I had to go to the Apple Store. Again. Actually, the visit marked my third in 10 days because the original repair to my daughter’s phone lasted until we got home, and the second time I didn’t have four hours to wait for a Genius Bar opening. As I sat on a wooden cube resisting the siren call of Solitaire on my Samsung (yes, Chez Wilson is pro-Android, except for our one rebel child), I took a moment to observe my surroundings.
For starters, the millennials who work at Apple are enviably cool. They come in all shapes, sizes, races, ethnicities and represent a full spectrum of wardrobe preferences. From the detail-minded, shirt tucked-in, headphone-wearing floor manager to the laid-back, ripped-jeans, hipster-glasses sporting tech gurus, I found myself wanting to be 20 years younger and childless.
Then you’ve got the customers, who make the sport of people-watching truly entertaining. I saw baby boomers struggling through a clinic on simply “How to work your iPad” and a heavily bearded man wearing a T-shirt that didn’t quite cover his substantial gut ordering his toddler grandson to “Git over here!” The woman next to me had triple ear piercings and a nose ring, and across the room sat a fellow dance mom (Hi SL!). Not surprsinginly, there were scores of angsty teens and young professionals trying out the latest gadgets, but I also spotted a Colts player and several people, besides myself, on Samsungs. It’s still too soon to share my opinion of the gentleman behind me with a noticeable GI issue.
I definitely prefer my Samsung, but always intriguing to visit the Apple Store.