A is for Apple, B is for Best Buy, C is for Customer, D is for Defective . . .

I guess this just is not my year (or two) for laptops. My MacBook Pro went back to Best Buy for repair on June 22, 2010. It was returned from the depot twice without anything done to address the problems, the main one being the machine’s inability to load and read any optical media. Finally, on the 21st. of July I was called and told that the repairs were complete and that my laptop was available for pickup.

I went to BB and picked it up. However, the original system and application disks were not returned. I had declined to surrender these when I initially brought my machine in for service but the staff of Best Buy were adamant that they had to have them before my machine could be serviced (what kind of geeks were these?). So, I had to make another trip out to their store to deliver the disks. Now, the disks were missing. I am afraid that I was somewhat firm in my demands for the return of the missing disks.

I will not go through the entire encounter in detail. Suffice to say that at points I recalled to mind the famous “Dead Parrot” sketch from Monty Python. To give but one example, as I was clearly not about to leave without the disks, and since other clients were showing considerable interest in my exchanges with the service staff, I was offered “copies” of the missing disks. This lead to this exchange:

Me: “Wait a minute. Copies? You have copies of the system disks?”

Rep: “Well. . . no. But we can make some for you. If you care to wait.”

Me: “If you can make a copy of the system disc then why did you need mine?”

Rep: “It’s store policy.”

Me: “Policy? Let me tell you about my policy. When I drop off something to a service centre at their request I expect to get it back. If you can make copies then you must have the original disks. These are mine and I want them back.”

Rep: “No, those are not yours.”

Me: “How can you tell they are not mine?”

Rep: “We can’t find yours.”

Me: “Let me get this straight. You people required me to surrender my original system disks, over my objections, and now say that you cannot find them. At the same time you now admit to having said disks from which you can make a copy. Where did those disks come from?”

Rep: “I don’t know, but they are not yours.”

etc.

Eventually I left the store, with the original disks, but only after the passage of several HOURS and the involvement of two managers. However, the fuss over the disks had caused me to lose sight of the objective, which was to have a working computer.

When I returned home I was so tired and disgusted with the whole Mac World BS I put the MacBook aside and went to bed.

Two days later, I had regained sufficient composure to attempt to test the machine. I started it up on my kitchen table and installed Firefox. I then went to the online application whose graphics had triggered the half-black screen and system freeze problem. Bingo, the symptoms immediately evidenced themselves. So much for the repair shop’s efforts.

I looked at what version of the OS I had installed and it appeared to be the most current. Now, you may recall, if you have read my initial post on this matter, that the problem only evidenced itself after the most recent system software update. The reason that the machine had to go in for repair was that the optical drive would not load any media so that I could not restore the system to its previous state. This is my first Mac after all and I knew nothing about “Time Machine” when I set it up.

Getting out the original system disk I popped it into the DVD drive and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited. At last the disc ejected without mounting. Sigh . . .

Back to Best Buy. My son pointed out to me afterwards that he can always tell when I am really, really angry. Really? Yes, really. And how can you tell that? Well, you get very, very polite and very, very quiet. That is how I am when I am angry? Hmmmm, I thought that I was a little more expressive than that? You are when you are just angry. It is when you are really angry that you get quiet. Those guys were really worried.

Anyway, the most notable thing about this stay at the beautiful sunny service desk belonging to the Geek Squad was the abject refusal of the manager/supervisor/head-geek to accept the evidence of his own eyes. My MacBook was repaired. It said so on the job ticket. While said chief geek looked hither and yon for any CD or DVD that would load into my MacBook I went to the washroom to relieve myself in safety and decorum rather than giving material expression to the thoughts that were going through my head.

My son, who witnessed what happened while I was away, told me that the geek squad loaded in excess of some twelve CDs or DVDs without any being accepted by my laptop. When I returned, the geek commanding acknowledged that there seemed to be a problem.

Yes, I told him, the exact problem for which over one month ago this machine was brought into your store for repair. The exact problem that on various occasions since then I have been told by your staff either does not exist, cannot be reproduced or has been repaired, take your pick. The same problem that you, yourself, at this very desk denied was present not more than 30 minutes ago. That problem.

“I guess we will have to send it back, then”, says he. “What a novel idea”, says I.

. . . To get anything done in this country, you have to complain until you are blue in the mouth.

John Cleese