Apple Customer Service

The tattoo across her wrist, I’m guessing, it was SOULKOS – Greek, asked, “means love to serve the lord,” and this was a typical Apple…

Three’s a charm, right? Tried a couple of days previous, no avail, the front guy gruffly explained I had to have the whole set, not just the single part I was trying to get replaced. iPad, iPhone, iMac, you would think a cheap but broken part could be exchanged with no problem. Manufacturing problem; defective thing.

First guy, Sunday afternoon, he was useless. Second time, earlier in the next day, I showed up with both parts, a camera connectivity kit, as it is styled, just two things to plug either a camera chip or a USB cord into an iPad, so the first person explains I need my iPad and the whole kit. Got the whole kit, and I could show her on the iPad she had in her hand, but no, since it was an out-of-box deal, had to have my own iPad — long walk back.

Felt like I was interrupting her answering an e-mail or something. Whatever’s happened to Apple’s excellence in customer service? That was the second time my problem was not understood.

Make an appointment for a Genius Bar chat. For no reason, but I don’t argue. This is one of those nightmare customer relations things about to happen.

There’s a train coming.

I had a Pretzel-Pepper Dog. That was two laps through the mall, one iced espresso, and two trips to the Apple Store with no satisfaction.

I’m sure that the dog had been on the warmer from some time in the previous day. Mystery meat wrapped with pretzel dough, baked and sprinkled with garlic and jalapeño strips. Almost good. But probably left over.

It’s hot outside but there’s a promise of rain, now. Food doesn’t palliate the rising bile, though, twice, the front person, that point of contact, twice, we’ve failed.

I wanted to exchange a product that was broken — out of the box. Broken when I got it, and no, I don’t have a receipt on me. Look, it’s an Apple part, it does not work, just exchange it.

How hard is this?

Third pass, the girl, woman, whatever, she’s a Mighty Leo.

We talk tattoo and birthday, first she asks what she can do, and I explain, “This is broken, needs to be replaced.” It’s the size of quarter, not much larger, was defective out of the box, but I’m only now getting around to it.

There’s a pair of Ben Franklin reading glasses perched on my head. She swoops off, “This is Armando,” he shakes my hand, “he’ll help.”

I pointed out, she said she could do it.

Back to the cashier table, the two exchange the parts for new ones, I whip out my camera chip, plug the new one into the iPad, and it all works. Like it was suppose to.

The Church of the Customer teaches that the littlest interaction can have the biggest impact. That Apple store almost pissed me off, in fact, they did. Twice.

Figure it was a Leo who saved the day. The Royal Leo.

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