Of Apples and Pampers
File this post under “I’m Not Fucking Kidding” and “Even My Twisted Brain Couldn’t Have Thought of This.”
Perhaps I need a new category called “I Shit You Not.”
Hello my little wannabe negativists. Today I regale you with a tale that illustrates, without question, why I am the all-time Guru of Negativity. If you have the mental wherewithal, step inside my head and see what it’s like to be in my shoes.
The story begins last Friday…
Friday after work I picked up my iMac from the local authorized Apple factory repair shop. Lo and behold, the thing was finally fixed, and only after 15 business days. Three full weeks.
There was a new problem. The fan now ran at full speed and the covenant of a super-quiet computer had been broken. The thing sounded like a vacuum cleaner.
I would have asked, “Why me?” but I don’t much care for asking questions where I already know the answer.
So Monday morning I schlepped the thing back into the shop.
That’s when this conversation took place:
Me: This thing has already been here 15 business days. Will you escalate this for a fast turn around time?
Employee #1: This sort of thing shouldn’t take long.
Employee #2: I can escalate you to some Pampers.
Me: Eh? Er, what???
Employee #2: Some poopy Pampers I just found in the parking lot. Seriously, can you believe people??
You’re preaching to the fucking choir, lady. But, more importantly…
WHAT IN THE MOTHERFUCKING HELL??????
These are the people that Apple hires to provide my warranty repair?
I am not making this up!!! That was the conversation. Verbatim. No embellishment. No artistic license. No lie.
At times, like when shit like this happens to me, I seriously doubt that I’m alive. I figure this reality must be some kind of mind fuck and I’m already dead and gone and shipped to Hell. And part of that Hell is that I don’t get to know it. Makes it so much more delicious and sublime, eh?
So yeah, neither employee bothered to actually answer my question. At this point, I had fucking had it. I decided to be more proactive about my repair.
I called them Monday at 1pm. “Is this Tom?” they asked. They were beginning to recognize the sound of my voice. Good!
“It might be ready today,” I was told. Yeah, I’ve heard that happy crappy before. Lies.
I waited all afternoon for the call that never came.
Then I did something brilliant. I got off work and drove directly to the shop. I walked in and they said, “Here ya go! All fixed.”
Fuck. Were you ever going to let me know that? Assholes. Thanks for the call.
“The piece of tape must have come loose. I re-taped it.”
That’s it? That’s an all-repair for you motherfuckers? And what’s this about a “piece of tape?” The fate of my iMac hangs in the balance over a piece of fucking tape? Jesus Christ!!!
Conclusion: The thing seems fixed. But I know I can’t trust my own senses. We’ll see. And that shop was one of the worst things to ever happen to me in my whole life. The hate in me in swelling.
This is the sort of shit that happens to me. Hopefully you can now begin to see how I reached Guru status.
This post written with a Mac.
Breaking the poop barrier
ZOMG. Yesterday we went to [gasp] Wal-Mart. Again.
My wife was invited to her cousin’s baby shower. Apparently there was a gift registry at Wal-Mart. My wife wanted to go, so we went.
Not to give away too much of the plot behind this post, but after about five minutes in the store, my wife was overheard to say, “The hell with this fucking place!”
Oh yeah. Now I’m interested. 🙂
The wife had it in her head to get cloth diapers. So to the baby section we went. It was the second time I’d set foot in that area of the store in my life. The first, of course, was the last time she needed baby shower gifts.
She searched and searched and searched and could not find cloth diapers. It was futile. I even helped her. The quest for cloth diapers was epic fail. However, I slowly became aware that there was a shitload of diaper styles to choose from, if you’ll excuse the pun.
Some of them that caught my eye included (and none of these are made up):
- Baby Dry – Erm. Isn’t that the purpose of all diapers? These ones were apparently for “newborns.”
- Natural Fit – Yeah, don’t bother with the unnatural fit diapers. What are you? Some kind of loser? Your baby wants comfort!
- Snug and Dry – Snug sounds good.
- Little Snugglers – More for the newborn!
- Ultra Leakguards – Um, yeah! Forget dryness. I don’t want pee on me!
- Little Movers – Apparently for babies on the go.
- Supreme Little Movers – For upper class babies on the go?
- Little Movers Jeans – For those delicate times you need your diapers to look like blue jeans.
- Swaddlers Sensitive – Helping a sensitive tushy sounds noble, but where is the snug, dry, blowout, leakguard protection?
- Extra Protection – This one comes with a secret compartment for your handgun.
- Premium Stretch – Your baby must be fat or a descendant of the Fantastic 4
- Boys Underpants – It’s still a diaper but you feel so much more sophisticated and older.
- Ultratrim – Lets air through, presumably to carry smells to innocent passerby.
- Ultratrim Baby-Shaped – OK, who’s the dumb ass that would ever buy the other kind?
- Cruisers Dry Max – Because nothing should say “chicks” like a diaper.
- Overnites – Apparently all of the others can only be worn in the day time.
- Preemies – Gentle umbilical cord care – need we say more? For those who just can’t wait.
- Pure and Natural – That refers to the diaper, not the baby. It’s not easy being green.
- Stages Swaddlers – Start at level 1, gain experience and work your way up!
Note: To keep this list from getting unnecessarily long, all diapers for dogs have been omitted.
Just how many frickin’ kinds of diapers do we need? There was jumbo, chlorine free, touch of aloe, super absorbent, super dry, sensitive, different stages, hugflex, soft and cozy, non-woven tapes, clothlike backsheets, cotton, breathable, gauze-weave fabric, caterpillar-flex, ultra-skin guard liner, mild cosmetic ingredients, super-stretchy closure tabs, and much much more. Just mix and match these terms and you can design your own new line of diapers fit for an American baby, the best babies on earth.
Any idea why the only thing we couldn’t find in the friggin’ story was disposable diapers? My gut tells me it has a little something to do with wanting you to keep coming back again and again for more. If you bought cloth diapers they’d sell much less of them. We must consume and dispose, consume and dispose. Nothing else will do!