I’m not a big ranter. Well, not online anyhow; I feel that most rants, like kisses, chocolates, and cheques from Publishers’ Weekly, should be delivered in person, rather that broadcast far and wide like radio programs and sneezes.
However, the last couple of days I’m sorely tempted. But I can’t decide which would be the better subject of a rant: the Apple Store (which I visited for the very first time the other day) or my horrible insurance company which won’t send out a claims adjuster until next Tuesday to inspect the results of today’s basement flood.
The Apple Store, for someone who has never been inside it before, is like an experiment in android anthropology. If you don’t already know the rules about where to line up, then not only will nobody tell you, but all the employees studiously look elsewhere when you try to catch their attention. Nothing short of standing in someone’s way will get you an answer — which turns out to be that if you don’t already have an appointment (made with the Apple Store App, natch) then you can make one for tomorrow. That’s right — I went to an electronics store to get service on a non-functioning piece of electronics, and had no success because I didn’t have an appointment.
Love my iPad (except for its problem with wifi); hate the Apple.
I guess the insurance company story is simpler. They’re just evil. At least they’re not pretentious about it.
Still, Chrissie and I saw the newest Woody Allen last night, To Rome with Love. Despite neither of us being Allen fans, we were delighted.
Even flooded, life is wonderful.