McCarla

Some days, I like my job. People are friendly and understanding, even when they’re having some sort of trouble. Needing an appointment to speak to someone at the Genius Bar really isn’t the end of the world, and coming back at a later time (or date, even) is perfectly acceptable. And then there are days like today. People are rude and impatient, even when I’m doing my very best to help them. Needing an appointment to speak to a technician is absurd, and it’s perfectly reasonable to throw a hissy because I can’t get you seen ahead of people who have appointments.

By the end of my 9am-5pm shift, I was ready to leave the Apple store for good. I didn’t know what had finally pushed me over the edge—maybe the woman crying over the accidentally damaged screen of her white MacBook, or maybe the belligerent Russian man with the imaginary iPhone problem—but by noon, I was counting the seconds until the end of my workday. When I left, it had just begun pouring rain, and I was drenched by the time I got to my car. Finally, I pulled away from the mall and onto the interstate…which was at a stand-still. My trip home should have taken approximately eight minutes. In reality, it took closer to forty-five.

By the time I began maneuvering the slick backroads near my apartment, the rain had slacked considerably. In fact, visibility had improved so much that I was able to see a freshly killed chipmunk in the road. Seeing its tiny little body, surprisingly unmangled, made me profoundly sad.

Finally home, I tossed my keys onto the kitchen counter with a too much force. They slid across the counter and onto the floor. I left them there.