As Linda’s iPhone was over the hill (and a couple miles down the road), we decided to head to the Apple Store last Friday to get a new one. I called Arlo’s favorite uncle, Gary, to see if he could come by and minister to him around noon but got his voice mail.
When I finally got a call back from Gary, it was through his sidekick, Marianne, because he was driving. They were on their way Memphis to visit family with their dog, Birdy, in the back seat.
No problem, the Labradorian loves to ride in the car, so I packed a rawhide chew, his ‘Taste of the Wild High Prairie’ lunch, water jug and bowl in the back of the Pathfinder for the trip. When we told Arlo we were going on a ride together in the car, he immediately started barking, whimpering and wagging his way back and forth from the kitchen to the backdoor. “Come on! I’m ready! What’s the hold up?”
We headed north in a slow drizzle as Arlo vocalized like a chimpanzee from the back seat, “Oh boy! Oh boy! I love this!”
When we made a pit stop at Pleasanton, he got out, whizzed, and hurried back to the car, as if to say, “Don’t leave here without me!”
At the Apple Store on 119th Street in Leawood, I parked, Linda went inside, and I took Arlo for a walk. Again, after he did is business, he anxiously hurried back to the Pathfinder.
When I walked into the store it wasn’t long before a man in a black shirt with an Apple logo asked, “Can I help you?”
“I’m searching for a good-looking brunette — my wife.”
“What’s her name. I could shout it out,” he replied with smile.
“Hell, I can do that,” I smiled back as I spied her over his shoulder. “There she is.”
This exchange was reflective of what I was soon to learn is the Apple Store business model; fill your chrome, glass and blonde wood store with congenial, tech-savvy clerks that are readily available — but not pushy — and seductively display watches, laptops, desktops and phones that people can walk up and try out at will.
Linda had left her old phone in the car, so I handed it to her and she introduced me to Larry, the affable tech who, it turned out was a former educator — started out teaching band and moved to technology before retiring and moving on to Apple.
One of the first things he told Linda about her old phone was, “Man, I can’t believe this thing’s still working.”
As they were deep in the selection and content transfer process, I went over to a new desktop Mac and signed on to check my email and surf a little. No difference, that I could see, from the 2017 reconditioned Mac in my office back home (that I bought at a third of the price of a new one last year).
After a while I drifted back to Linda and Larry and found he specifically taught marching band and percussion. Admitted that he was something of a ‘Band Nazi’ (up until the time he had his first child and began reflecting on his technique). Once taped a drum stick to a girl’s hand to show her how to hold it in the right position at morning practice. Later that day got a call from an upset principal asking about it. Turned out he’d been so emphatic that the girl thought (wrongly) she was supposed to keep it taped to her hand all day long.
The three of us went on to visit and exchange stories about teaching and creating as we waited for everything to sync up. Linda also got a new Dick Tracey, two-way iPhone wristwatch to communicate with headquarters (Arlo and me) when her phone’s not handy.
At one point Larry said, “I have to show you this.” and scrolled through his iPhone to a site that read “New Cannabis and Natural Medicinals major approved at Truman State University.” Then laughed as he related that his son, who’d attended Truman State, was upset the Cannabis major was created after his graduation.
My first reaction was, “I bet no one skips lab.” Also found myself wondering if, when greeting one another on campus, instead of “Hi, how are you?” students and faculty now say, “How high are you?”
I next thought about all the students at Truman State — and other colleges across the country — from the mid-1960s onward, who majored in marijuana (and natural medicinals) but never got credit on their transcripts. Some who undoubtedly earned a ‘Bachelor of Weed’ degree.
Phone and watch purchased, we left Apple, grabbed a Philly steak sandwich, and headed south, Arlo hanging his head out the window until we reached 50 mph.
Once home, Arlo headed for his dog bed, Linda started fiddling with her new phone and I sat down at my writing desk.
Before long, I was chuckling to myself as new Truman State University recruitment slogans started popping in my head, i.e., “College at Truman State is a joint venture“ and “Truman State — we offer a higher education”.
J.T. Knoll is a writer, speaker, historian and eulogist. He also operates Knoll Training & Consulting Services in Pittsburg. He can be reached at 620-704-1309 or [email protected]
