Mrs. Robbo’s iPhone developed some kind of internal problem and stopped working this morning.  Because of scheduling issues, it fell upon Self to toddle off to the Apple Store at the mall to see what could be done about it.  I took Youngest Gel along to act as guide and interpreter.  (She served as chauffer as well.)

Ol’ Robbo hasn’t been to the mall in ages for a very good reason:  I can’t stand them. Especially when, like today, they’re full of people milling about in random, entropic shoals and continually either bouncing off of one or blocking one’s path.  It brings out the misanthrope in me.

As for Apple, that place gives me the creeps just from the sheer volume of information they must be sucking in every time a customer brings a gadget to them.  Also from the long con on the technology they offer.  Even the Gel knows it:  “They rig iPhones to break just when the new models come out so you have to buy one, don’t they?”  she said.

Yes, yes they do.

Bringing the Gel along was an inspiration, by the bye, and was the only thing that let me succeed in getting Mrs. R’s  problem resolved:

Technician: “Okay, now go ahead and enter your Apple ID…”

Self: “My whu-?”

Gel: “Give me that..” [Types in relevant code]

She also showed me and explained in words of one syllable how to backup all of Mrs. R’s data into “the Cloud” and then bring it back once the phone was working again, something that would have been far beyond my own skills.

I bought her some complicated strawberry drink and a cup full of pretzel bites after we were done with genuine gratitude.