The Life Lessonbook is not usually an angry site. I do not write controversial things about politics or social issues or child discipline.

Today, this is an angry site.

That’s because last week, I met a genius.

It all started about a month ago when my iPhone began randomly heating up to a million degrees and burning through half the battery in 20 minutes. I was a little alarmed the first time my phone turned into a small fireball inside my pocket, but because I am kind of a lazy person, I didn’t do anything about it.

After it happened a few times, I tried resetting it, restoring it and deleting a few apps with no success. Last week, after it happened again, I plugged it into my MacBook Pro at work to recharge it, then a very bad thing happened.

My computer shut off. And not in a “Haha, looks like that last paragraph didn’t save” way. It was more like, “This machine will never work again.” The power button wouldn’t do anything and the charger light went ominously dim.

I immediately took it to Andy at my work, who can fix anything. “Don’t worry, I can fix anything,” Andy said. After a few minutes of fiddling, he looked up. “Yeah, it’s fried.”

With no computer and no options, I realized my only remaining course of action would be to spend the rest of my day with the smuggest people on earth.

I called the Apple Store.

Because the Apple Store (retailer of the world’s most popular phone) is too good for phones, nobody answered my call. Instead, they played a recorded message telling me to set up an appointment online or through their special app. I nearly burned myself with my phone downloading the app, only to find that the Apple Store was so busy servicing their flawless products that they did not have an open slot for three days.

I finally found a very-far-away Apple Store that had a slot open for me. I booked my spot and mentally prepared myself to meet a genius.

If you are unfamiliar with the way Apple customer service works, you go to their glass cube store and meet a 20-year-old on a stool with an iPad. You tell the 20-year-old that you are there to see the Wizard.

The 20-year-old asks if you have an appointment. If you do not, you will be told to return in a week. If you do, the 20-year-old will fiddle with the iPad for five minutes. During this time, you will notice his or her finger mustache tattoo. If you are lucky, you will be granted access to the Genius Bar.

The Genius Bar is a lot like Best Buy’s Geek Squad, except they would combust if you ever mentioned this to them. They provide the same helpful advice (“Did you try turning it off an on?”), have the same favorite phrase (“I’m sorry, the warranty is expired”), charge the same prices ($1 million/hour) and wear the same clothes (The geniuses just wear theirs ironically). The only difference is the Genius Bar is sure of two things: they are superior to you and they are farrrrrr superior to the Geek Squad.

The Genius Bar is sure of two things: they are superior to you and they are farrrrrr superior to the Geek Squad.

I made it past the stool guy back to the Genius Bar, which was swarming with hipsters. One of them finally stopped to learn about my computer problem. He nodded understandingly as I explained it and took my computer to the back. Ten minutes later, he emerged with a working laptop. He explained that the battery just needed to be taken out and put back it.

It’s important to note that Andy at my work was about to take this step, but removing the battery would inexplicably void the warranty, and geniuses are very particular about their warranty. I breathed a sigh of relief and mentioned that the cause was probably my fireball phone. He nodded and pointed me toward the mobile geniuses.

As I sat at the Mobile Genius Bar, I overheard a few of the dumb things geniuses deal with every day. One older lady, for example, wanted to know why her iPhone wouldn’t play through the speakers in her Ford Focus. Mobile Genius TJ found that her Bluetooth was working perfectly.

“Your Bluetooth works great. So what that tells me is that your phone isn’t broken, you just need to pair it to your car.”

She started to panic.

“How do I do that?”

“You have to follow the instructions that came with your car.”

“I don’t know about any of that! Can you do it?”

“You should probably call their customer service. I don’t work for Ford.”

“But you work for my phone!”

I started to feel sorry for the geniuses. Maybe they weren’t so bad after all. One of them had actually fixed my computer, while the other had to deal with nincompoops all day. Maybe they’re just misunderstood geniuses.

TJ moved onto his next customer, a large woman with angry eyes. “And what can I help you with?”

“THIS APP WON’T WORK RIGHT ON MY IPAD.”

“Is everything else working?”

“THIS APP WON’T WORK.”

“Everything else is working, so what that tells me is something probably wrong with the app.”

“FIX IT.”

“I didn’t make the app, so I don’t know…”

“YOU SAID THINGS WOULD WORK WHEN YOU SOLD ME THE IPAD. FIX IT.”

Poor, misunderstood TJ.

I was up next, so I started to review my goals for the meeting. This might be a good time to mention that one time in college, I took a personality test that told me I was a “Golden Retriever.” As a golden retriever, my goals for customer service interactions might be a little unusual and slightly counterproductive. They are:

1. Make sure the customer service representative likes me.
2. Get my problem fixed.

In that order.

So when TJ wrapped up his conversation and turned his attention to me, I gave him a look that said, “These people are crazy, right? Fortunately for you, I know what I am talking about. We can have a real geeky conversation about a real problem, and we will probably become fast friends.”

Unfortunately, that is a lot to say with a one-second look, and a few of my points may have gotten lost in translation.

“What can I help you with?”

I explained my fireball problem, and TJ tested my phone.

“Hmmmmm, everything looks normal.”

“Right, but there’s for sure a problem.”

More fiddling. “Oh, I’ve got it. Look, you’ve got a lot of apps open.”

I may be on the same side of the Genius Bar as CAPS LOCK lady, but I am no dummy. And if you try to tell me that my phone could iron clothes because I’ve got Facebook, Twitter and email open at the same time, we’ve got a problem.

I may be on the same side of the Genius Bar as CAPS LOCK lady, but I am no dummy.

“I don’t think that’s it.”

“I think that’s definitely it.”

“I’ve been using my phone the same way for nine months, and you’re telling me that it just decided two weeks ago that eight apps open in the background was a problem?”

“Yes.”

Well, we moved past goal #1 in a hurry.

I repeated my case. He nodded understandingly. “The diagnostics look good, so what that tells me…”

He started using all the same language and voice inflections he’d been using with the two crazy people before me, which made me soooooooo mad. I’m not a crazy person! YOU’RE A CRAZY PERSON!

I STARTED SPEAKING IN CAPS LOCK.

I kept arguing and arguing because so help me if I have to drive 40 minutes to this stupid glass cube again just because TJ the Genius with his stupid ironic glasses couldn’t do anything besides one stupid test on my phone.

Finally after 45 minutes, TJ did the equivalent of turning my phone off and on and sent me on my way. By this time, my face was as hot as my phone’s battery.

No sooner had I reached my car than my phone started heating up again. I turned right around and marched up to Stool Guy.

“I need to see a Genius now.”

“OK, uhhhh,” he started fiddling with his iPad. “Well we have a lot of appointments…” That’s when he looked up at me and saw my face. “Actually, why don’t you just go back there now.”

I met Genius Heather who listened to my explanation and looked at my phone. After seven seconds, she said, “Oh yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with the hardware here. Look, this error log is a mile long. Let’s get you a new phone.”

I smiled and breathed for the first time in an hour.

“Actually,” she said. “Let me show this to TJ so he knows for the future.”

I cannot adequately express how satisfying it was to watch Heather set TJ straight. When he looked up, I grinned and shot him a look that said, “Still think you’re smart? You may be wearing a blue shirt, TJ, but you are no genius. Also, I hope you are jealous of the friendship that Heather and I have.”

It was a complicated message, but I think he got the idea.

LIFE LESSON #28

If your customer services representatives are 20-year-old hipsters who don’t know how to fix phones, maybe don’t call them “Geniuses.”