People I Want To Punch In The Face: A Real "Genius"

It has been so long since I have vented in the form of People I Want To Punch In The Face.  It's time. Oh, yes it is time.

It came to me today as I sat in the Apple store with my busted IPhone. The screen shattered when I was on an emergency potty run with my three year old during my six year old's "soccer game." I put soccer game in quotations, because seriously, have you ever watched six year olds play soccer? It's a mix of excessive celebration combined with organized chaos and nose picking. Anyways, while coaxing my youngest child to go potty, my IPhone fell from my pocket and landed face down on the bathroom floor. The screen was shattered.  Long story short I made an appointment at the "Genius Bar." Really? Come on, as far as I can tell the employed "Geniuses" are bored pseudo techies punching a time clock. I don't remember the name of my "Genius" however he wore an official blue shirt, glasses and about a million electronic gadgets affixed to his belt. *HOT*. My Genius took one look at my phone shook his head and actually made a tutt, tutt, sound with his tongue, something I might expect of an 84 year old, but he couldn't have been over 25.

He placed my phone on the table and pressed here and there determining after 22 seconds that my phone was bent. He removed my case and noticed something "sticky" on the back of my phone, and snickered in disgust.  "What is that?" he questioned, eye brows raised and smirking. As my three year old sat beside me mindlessly pounding his chubby fingers on a sample Ipad, I looked him straight in the eye and said: "Have you ever seen inside a mommy's purse? How the hell do I know?"  He quickly announced that I would need a replacement. He picked up my phone and started fiddling around disabling icloud, and resetting passwords. He handed it back to me, informing me I needed to back my phone up and come back later to purchase the new phone. I sighed and texted my husband about the latest expense, and realized that most of my contacts had simply disappeared. Gone. Erased. I panicked. HOW AM I GOING TO REACH IAN'S DAD TO ARRANGE A PLAY DATE? HOW CAN I REACH THAT ONE BABYSITTER WE USED LAST YEAR? HOW WILL I REMEMBER WHO MY KID'S PEDIATRIC DENTIST IS??? Holy crisis.

I asked my Genius, what had just happened. He looked down at my phone in complete dismay, informing me he had no idea, and it was certainly nothing that he had done. Dude. One minute I held my trusty IPhone with all 170 contacts in place. The next after you put your genius hands all over it my contacts are gone.... you are telling me this is a coincidence?  "Miss, I don't know what you want me to do, they are gone." Um... hello.... aren't you called a Genius? This is Genius? Are you kidding me? No. No. Apparently he was not kidding me.  He handed me the work order and told me to return in a few days for a new phone and walked away. Leaving me....contactless.

I left the store, irate, my busted IPhone in my purse and my cranky three year old on my hip screaming for an Ipad and informing me that he had just had an "accident" which was now obvious to anyone within a two mile radius. As I walked my stinky child to the restroom I remembered to secure my phone now devoid of contacts in my purse, since this was in fact how I ended up at the "Genius Bar" in the first place.

So Public Service Announcement: Keep your phone tucked in a safe place when bent over your child in a public restroom, and never trust a genius with your contacts. You are welcome.