It’s the same old story

You know the one: boy meets girl, boy laboriously taps out love poem to girl on his iPhone, iPhone goes into brick mode.

And this is why the service counter at the Apple store is called the Genius Bar:

“I have some good news and some bad news,” he said. “First the good news. I have fixed your iPhone and have recovered your poem.”

“That’s great!” I announced. “So, what’s the bad news?”

“I read the poem.”

For the implications of this, you’ll have to read the whole thing.


  1. fillyjonk »

    19 September 2011 · 8:32 am

    Trust me, I’d rather receive an earnest poem, no matter how “bad” by the literary standards of the guy at the genius bar, than what he actually suggested sending in the end.

    (I’m sure the whole exchange was tongue-in-cheek, but still: it seems a metaphor for what our society has become.)

  2. Tatyana »

    19 September 2011 · 8:57 am

    Makes me reevaluate my dislike of IPhone. It did the right thing…although, knowing the owner, the heroic self-sacrifice of IPhone was probably for nothing.
    So, I’m out of the loop: what happened to a “lovely” Sophia (read: vulgar, ugly, hag with a mouth of a port whore)?

  3. CGHill »

    19 September 2011 · 9:08 am

    She and Neil appear to be going their separate ways.

  4. Tatyana »

    19 September 2011 · 10:12 am

    Too bad, they suited each other so well

  5. nightfly »

    19 September 2011 · 11:58 am

    Tatyana, that insult was well-nigh Shakespearean in its brutal efficiency. Bravissima.

    I’m still trying to fathom old hipster Genius “boy” in his 30’s and still a grad student in the Columbia Writer’s Program. I hope that he’s either older-looking than his age, or else taking it slow because he’s working full-time at the Genius Bar. Otherwise, he’s pretty much straight from Stereotype Central.

  6. CGHill »

    19 September 2011 · 12:20 pm

    Or maybe it’s just that when he emerges with that MFA degree, at least he’ll have some measure of seniority somewhere and may never have to work on his delivery of the decidedly-prosaic phrase “You want fries with that?”

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