Apple Genius

Since graduating with a degree in computer science, I have found that there are certain advantages that only someone with my skills can enjoy. I can set up a wireless router, complete with 128-bit encrypted WEP, to thwart ignorant - or sneaky - neighborhood internet thieves. I can build webpages without the need for WYSIWYG web publishing applications (although they can come in handy). I can set up my TiVo with my eyes closed. I know how to set up a wireless print server (WPS) so I can print from across the house, if I so choose.

Or not.

After successfully hooking up the WPS back in March 05, it was with much dismay that I discovered that the $100 printer that came with the purchase of my new Powerbook, the very same one that came with a $100 rebate that I forgot to mail in, still refused to print a single page. Back then I spent entire evenings at a time reading manuals, downloading Mac drivers, attempting to print test pages... anything that would validate my technical prowess. My one small win finally came in the form of one garbage-filled sheet of test paper. (There is a signal! At least I got the WPS right!) Sadly, determining that the problem lay with my computer was as far as I got before giving up. Several weeks later even A, my official technology guru, was at a loss. It didn't help that when he tried printing from his Windows PC the Epson sprang to life within nanoseconds, as if it had already known it would be summoned to complete such a noble task.

For the next year, my "free" printer sat in the corner of my bedroom, shunned from the otherwise high-tech life that I led. For a while I considered selling the damned thing, but doing so would have confirmed my failure. And my therapy sessions of last fall clearly highlighted my issues in that department...

So when it came time for me to move back home, I boxed up the printer and lugged it with me. I had just about resigned myself to a life of emailing myself attachments to print from other, more worthy machines, when I experienced a life-changing event.

Yesterday, after stopping at the post office to mail HP audiobooks 1-6 to Sars, I decided to linger in Southlake's highly overrated, I mean pretentious, I mean acclaimed Town Square. Yes, it's superficial and obnoxiously ostentatious, but it IS good for quality shopping. I was on my way to J. Crew when I saw the brand new Apple Store with a parallel parking spot waiting for me right at the entrance. Anyone who knows me is well aware that such rock-star parking cannot be passed up. Upon entering I was greeted by Hank, an Apple expert, who asked me if there was anything with which he could help. And somehow the awful details of my printer woes came pouring out.

I walked him through the steps I had taken to try to solve the problem, hoping to prove that I really had exhausted my resources and wasn't as inept as he might have first thought. It seemed to work, as he finally realized that I had already tried everything he could think of. Still, Hank wasn't an Apple Genius, so there were still others in the store who might be able to help. Rather than pay an ungodly sum by bringing my unwarrantied Mac to the store, however, he suggested that I purchase the 12 month ProCare plan for $99, schedule an hour long 1-on-1 appointment with a Genius, and get assistance under the guise of wanting to "learn more about printing digital photos."

And he said he wasn't an Apple Genius.

So I did just that. This morning, after my shiny new ProCare account number had been activated, I went online and scheduled an appointment for Tuesday night. A few hours later, I looked at the Epson printer box warily and decided to give it one last try before admitting total defeat.

Fifteen minutes later, I WAS PRINTING.

True, the evidence was pretty lacking - the print cartridges had lain dormant for so long that ink had crusted over all but a few nozzle holes, resulting in a very streaky test page. But I could tell it wasn't just another sheet of computer garbage. There, in poorly-spaced lines of bluish-green and black, was the undeniable shape of a woman with an afro.

For the life of me, I cannot figure out what I did differently. But I've been around long enough to know that you just don't question these things. And I'm still going to my Mac appointment on Tuesday - if nothing else to gloat about my victory. Maybe we can still squeeze in some digital printing tips with the 10 minutes we have left.

MotorPooUSA

Since I put my MINI up for sale, I have received very few calls. A few, but nothing serious. After posting to AutoTrader.com about a month ago, however, I received an unsolicited call from someone at MotorZooUSA. They left a message asking me to call back if I was interested in selling my car at $2000 above the asking price.

Well who wouldn't? I called back and left a message asking for more information.

A couple of weeks went by - nothing.* Just 15 minutes ago, I received a call from Mikhail at MotorZooUSA, touting their unique webpages custom tailored to each vehicle and advanced search engine listings. How they work with Capital One to help buyers finance their purchases. How when buyers go through financing they are much more willing to pay more for a vehicle b/c they are only focused on the monthly payments. (my skepti-radar perked up at this) How all advertisements are run until the car is sold. How they don't even make money off the sale of my car, that they profit off of the financing costs. Mikhail said all I would have to do is cover some minor advertisement costs.

I was then transferred to Jerry for an estimate on how much these advertising costs would be. "Well, for an '04 MINI Cooper that will run about $800. Now of course we wouldn't ask you to pay that much... *chuckle* ... instead you would be responsible for $400 of that. How does that sound?"

I said that sounded pretty darned high. Jerry said we could list my car at $2400 above the asking price, to recoup advertising costs. (Now who in their right mind would pay that much for my car when they can buy a brand new MINI for about that much?) I said I needed some time to think about this and find out more about the company. Jerry remained cordial, but I could definitely hear the frustration in his voice.

After the call, I did some research. First of all, their website is very basic and unimpressive. The information on their website is optimistic and vague. So I googled them and was rewarded with a very insightful consumer review. Apparently this company has been scamming people since 2004. Similar stories, most from people less fortunate than I. Yes, there appear to be a lot of legal loopholes that allow this business to stay afloat (B, maybe you can investigate during your free time?), but that doesn't make them an honest business. Long story short, I think I'll let others be suckered into paying for inflated salaries, aHEM, I mean advertisement costs. BEWARE!!


* Unfortunately for MotorPoo, during that time I began reading Influence - Science and Practice, which described the many ways in which salespeople can manipulate future customers. My heightened awareness of these practices undoubtedly kept me from talking to them for longer than necessary. I advise anyone interested in NOT being suckered to read this. It's not just another boring self-help book, I swear.

obsession

So the real reason behind my cyber-scarceness isn't entirely due to the fact that I spent the better part of last week in Austin scoping out my new digs. Or that I have been researching an upcoming European vacation. Although, yes, that is partially to blame.

The truth is, I've been having an affair.

A short while back I was able to come to terms with my infidelity to A, and so did he. In fact, I think he's come to accept my indiscretions as one of my many endearing charms.

The new infatuation in my life? Harry Potter.

For the past decade or so, I've constantly strived not to fall victim to formulaic young adult literature. This goal has not been that hard to accomplish - since the Babysitters' Club series there really hasn't been a collection of easy reading that could hold a candle. That and I've lately taken a liking to political biographies.

My fall from grace can be blamed entirely on the allure of getting a great deal. Of sticking it to the man. You see, my coworker recently invested in the HP series 1-6 on CD, unabridged and in all of its glory. In total, she probably spent a few hundred bucks on the collection - an unusually good deal for 1,380 audio files, or 3.9 consecutive days of pure, uninterrupted literary escape. So when she offered to let me borrow - ahem - convert them to iPod-friendly files, I couldn't possibly turn her down. Hell, I would burn a copy of I Am the Cheese narrated by Ben Stein if someone was giving it away. I have always been a sucker for free shit.

Even so, I never expected to get sucked in the way I did. And at first, I didn't. I had seen the first 2 movies and thought they were moderately entertaining. I had even tried to read The Sorcerer's Stone a while back, but could never get into it. After the second book, however, I started to enjoy my drives to and from work a little more (all hail the almighty auxiliary input). Something about Jim Dale's voice made the story much more engaging than reading or watching it. By The Prisoner of Azkaban, I was completely immersed in the story. How could I stop listening with all that character development??

Despite that the Half-Blood Prince was 18.5 hours (17 discs!) long, I finished it in about a week. I listened to it as I got ready for work in the morning. I listened on my way to work. I listened during lunch at my desk. I listened on the way home. I let my TiVo do its job as I headed to bed early, preferring the company of HP and friends over 24's broody Jack Bauer. By the end, I was spent, emotionally and physically, having stayed up into the wee hours night after night.

And then the questions. Who is RAB? (I think I know.) Why did JKR have to kill off so many key characters? Who will die in the end?

Good thing there's only one book left. With any luck it will be released during an extended school vacation.

And I'm not talking about one of those sissy 3-day weekends.