Sunday, October 10, 2010

The death and rebirth of a laptop

My laptop died in February while I was using it to refer to a recipe for lemon-thyme cakes. The good news was that I was able to complete the lemon-thyme cakes even after my laptop died, and they were delicious.

Then I stashed the laptop in the hall closet for eight months and pulled it out for the first time this morning.

I took it to the Apple Store to see if a Genius could figure out what was wrong with it. I had already paid several hundred dollars to get this laptop fixed in college — don't fall asleep with your laptop open on your lap, kids — and I really didn't want to pay to fix it again.

Plus, the laptop was filled to capacity and slooow as all heck. I just wanted to see if I could somehow get my photos, music and other files off of it so I could transfer them to the new laptop I'll be purchasing soon.

This is a friendly reminder to back up your files on an external hard drive, kids.

Can I just say here that the University Village Apple Store is kind of scary? It's giant, first of all, and there are approximately a million people in there at all times. There are employees running around with their eyes glued to iPhones and iPads. There are children bouncing around on beanbags. There are dogs. Why are there dogs?

I took my seat at the Genius Bar with trepidation. My Genius did not offer me a vodka-soda with lime, which is when I decided that this was the lamest bar I'd ever been to. But he seemed friendly and didn't scoff at my dirty white laptop that had clearly seen better days (2005 — a good year), so I settled in for a nice, long computer chat that I probably wouldn't understand.

First, the Genius plugged his own power adapter into my laptop. Then he turned it on. Wait, he turned it on?

"So... what's the problem with your laptop again?"

The problem was that my power adapter was bent a teeny, tiny bit out of shape and wouldn't charge the laptop enough to turn it on. This was clearly evident by simply looking at the adapter and remembering the time that I fell asleep with the laptop in my lap and it fell to the ground and broke and also bent the adapter out of shape. (Don't do this! Don't do this!) The bent adapter had worked for a while — if you turned it juuust right, which I became an expert at doing — but it had finally had enough in February.

It shouldn't take a genius to figure this out. In this case, it did.

My Genius tweaked my adapter for about five seconds and got it to work again. He was a gentleman and didn't even call me a big freakin' idiot for not realizing how simple the solution was. Then he assured me that no matter which Apple laptop I choose to buy next, it will be a million, trillion, gazillion times better than this gangster one that I'm typing on right now, even if I buy it stock, because this one may as well have been cobbled together by cavemen shortly after the wheel.

(I'm still going to buy a new laptop. In February, my net worth was thousands of dollars in the negative zone, and I didn't have a spare penny to toss into a well and wish for a new laptop. Since then I've waited and saved and waited to be able to afford a new laptop, one that's smarter, better, faster, stronger, one that has enough memory to hold the musical stylings of Daft Punk and Kanye West. I'm excited.)

I love my Genius. I want to marry him, or any one of those other Geniuses I spotted at that bar. My mom has always told me that any guy I meet at a bar is sure to be trouble, and she's actually been completely right, up until today.

Geniuses make miracles happen. Geniuses save lives.

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