Why I Drink Beer

So, a couple of weeks ago, I go to visit MK in her new digs. As part of the reward for visiting, she hands me down her old iMac, since she has the latest screaming desktop at work and a near-equal laptop for home.

This iMac is a thing of beauty. Remember the buzz about "wait for the Indigo!" just a few short years ago?

As it happened, in the intervening time, Apple came out with OS X.

Unix under the hood! I can stop calling them MacIntoys!

So I was delighted to get this present. As it came to me, it had OS 9 on it, and so I looked into upgrading to OS X. Go to apple.com . . . clickety-clickety-click . . . hmmm . . . just need some more RAM, it looks like . . . oh, and I have to buy the new OS, too . . . okay . . .

I call the local Mac store to find out about memory upgrade options, discover that it's not too expensive, and that they'll put the new chips in without charging me for labor.

Cool, I think. Putting memory chips in isn't at all hard, but why not let them take the one in a million chance of a static electricity gremlin coming in to bite? Let's do it.

It turned out to be a bit more of a hassle than I had hoped. (Crack beer for continuation.)

First, a week or so ago, they told me that they could upgrade me to 1 GB of RAM for about $250. Then, when I brought the computer in, they told me that 1 GB wasn't available any longer, for the iMac, and offered me half that, 512 MB, for a lower price of about $160. So I said OK.

Then I got a call today: "The salesperson quoted you the wrong price. Sorry. Do you want 512 MB for $250?"

"What the hell," I said. "Yes."

"OK. Then it's ready. Come down and get it!"

Sheesh.

Jumped in the Passat and found a parking space near Yes. Went in, dealt with apologies, asked about the OS X distribution package.

"Right there on the shelf."

"Good."

"Add it on to the invoice?"

"Yes, please."

The same guy who took like nine eternities to fill out my original invoice for the RAM upgrade then took another seventeen to modify it for the OS X purchase. I walked away from him when I felt a bubbling urge to grab him by the throat and say, "Buy some fucking glasses, would you please? I'm tired of looking at your lame ass squinting at your giant Mac."

Eventually, the new invoice was printed out, and the box containing OS X was handed to me. Since it seems to take as long to operate a cash register as it does a computer in that store, I started reading the box, just to stifle the afore-mentioned bubbling urges.

"Wait a minute," I say. "This is a DVD. I don't have a DVD drive in the iMac. Can I get this on CDs?"

Deer-in-the-headlights looks from cashier and tech guy Dave. Third person jumps in.

"I think that's a special order from Apple. No, wait. Josh can burn this DVD to a CD. No, wait. Is Josh still here?"

More deer, more headlights.

Finally, tech guy Dave speaks up. "Uh, yeah, we can do that. It's only like another ten bucks or something."

In the words of Clarice Starling, that was just about e-goddamn-nuff.

"Hey, Dave," I say. "Here's a chance to do a little Customer Service thing. How about you just give me the CDs, since the memory turned out to be so much more?"

Tech guy Dave looks strangely relieved, maybe at the chance to finally do something right. "OK!"

More cash register interfacing.

"This receipt is almost done printing," says the cashier. For the fifth time.

Meanwhile, tech guy Dave is standing at the door, holding my computer, trying to look like a helpful sort, and I'm thinking he's gonna drop the thing on the floor any second.

Finally get the receipt. Turns out no one is sure whether I've actually paid yet, but I resist the temptation, and hand over my plastic.

Finally get out the door.

Currently afraid to turn computer on, let alone install new OS.