Years ago in a fresher time I’d hear women complain about feeling invisible and figured it was because of their obvious facial hair or general air of disintegration.
Darl, I thought, it’s time to embrace laser hair removal and lose the defeatist attitude.
Don’t get me wrong; I too have periodically disappeared. Before the first born, I would confidently stride through department stores in my lunch break commanding attendance via a complex circuit of electro magnetic force. This was generated by a combination of enormous self-regard and a polyester viscose power suit.
Out of my way elderly person with no life to speak of, for the love of Dynasty I am in dire need of skin serum redolent with fletan oil and allantoin lest my unlined dermis become as etched and desiccated as yours. *shudder.
Flourishing my wallet and looking impatiently at my watch – tick tock, tick tock – I would be served immediately and deferentially.
Post infant I crept into the same department stores wearing the harried and bewildered expression of a supremely unprepared first time mother. Clad in stretch pants and voluminous top I would wheel the pram over to the beauty counter and feel just like an eight year old; too short to be spotted and too insignificant to serve.
Fortunately my stock increased again when teenaged daughters and a store card accompanied me on shopping expeditions; another brief and powerful time in the retail sun.
So today, I needed to get the Apple TV doohickey fixed –
Doohickey? Where’d that come from? Obviously I meant to say thingamajig or thingamabob.
I began my quest for iService at the fashion capital. A line of apple staff-slash-bouncers lined the store frontage and I assumed my ‘assistance required now’ countenance.
Not entirely quick enough for mine, a young chap (for aren’t they all?) posed the inevitable, ‘can I help you?’ in a decidedly desultory manner.
My witty banter and winning ways were met with clinical detachment and far from solving the issue for me – as the on-line forum for bitching about Apple products had foreshadowed – he whipped out his iPad and made an appointment for me to see a technician in 5 days time. Not five minutes or a coffee/lunch/maybe some actual work five hours time – FIVE DAYS.
He was unmoved.
I went to another centre where the store was buzzing with energy. Dozens of blue polo shirt wearing Apple evangelists scurried about radiating geek in the way only dreamed about by the spotty Dungeons & Dragons loving boys of my youth. Ah yes, the days of a 4.77 Mega Hertz with 4 bit processor and a whole 2k of RAM – heady stuff, but not remotely attractive.
Explaining my Apple TV issue I was designated a time with a technician for some twenty minutes later. I wandered off to simulate work and grab a smoothie, popping back at the appointed time.
Propped up at the Genius Bar I waited for one of the Apple chaps to investigate my problem.
There was a lot of tough ass tech talk flying around me and every one of the diagnostic masters appeared to be called ‘dude.’
A tandoori blonde with sea anemone eyelashes and a cavernous cleavage appeared between me and another Apple day patient at the Genius Bar. Dudes from everywhere converged around her flexing their I.T muscles.
Apparently the team had been able to restore all her laptop settings and just needed to recover her photos. How long was it going to take to reinstate 30,000 selfies?
By now it was some thirty minutes of finger drumming and arranging my face from beguiling to infuriated; no amount of throat clearing and excuse me’s were effective in drawing attention to myself. I was invisible.
Eventually I slid off the stool and approached one of the green iPad bearing check in dudes. It only took one chinese burn and a head lock for him to acknowledge my vaguely hyperventilating presence and apologise.
I don’t know what happened. We’ll look at that right now. Dude! Help this lady!
Dude looked around. Green iPad pointed at me.
Oh, I’m so sorry Ma’am, I didn’t see you there. Have you been waiting long?
I didn’t trust myself to speak.
Magnificent. Love it.
Note to self. Jane uses lots of big words so you should save reading her posts for when you’re not drinking beers.
If I feel as though Apple employees are not meeting my needs (which is always), I remove G$ from his stroller, plug him with a quick hit of Dr. Pepper and let him loose.
Oh how I miss the secret toddler weapon! So handy for unsolicited off shore sales calls as well. Your blogs illicit simultaneous sentimentality for the days of little people and relief it’s over. I appreciate your commenting 😎
I can SO identify with you darl… if I need customer service these days, I make sure to go armed with one of my daughters. I ask the questions and they get told the answers, but at least its a result!
It was suggested I employ such tactics and send in my young ladies but I’m thinking of opting for disgraceful attention seeking outfits instead. Leopard print and pleather?
Thankfully I have little need to go to the shops, or little use for the otherwise unemployable pimpled face “dudes” masquerading as tech experts.
Well quite clearly you are in touch with your inner-Geek and can fix these things yourself…or you have become Amish and eschewed all forms of technology! Thanks for commenting x
I feel the same way! I feel like I need to spend an extra 20/30-something minutes attempting to pretty myself up just so I can get service at these type of places, bunnings included, just so I can ask my simple question of “where can I find … ?” So the way I see it, in order to spend less time in limbo waiting and wandering aimlessly, I have to spend extra time at home getting ‘dolled’ up!
Don’t really know if I’m actually ‘saving’ time in the end.. 😦
Michelle, given your youth and generally fabulous appearance, I cannot believe you are ever ignored but you can always pack your boxing gloves and deal someone a decent left hook should the occasion arise! Go girl 😁