This column originally appeared in the Chicago Tribune and on Medium January 23, 2018
A recent trip to what remains of my local shopping mall left me with a range of emotions beginning with depression and ending on a euphoric high. Sort of like how I felt watching the 2016 presidential election returns. In reverse.
My mission on a cold snowy evening was two-fold: Return a set of mugs my wife vetoed on Christmas morning and purchase a replacement “get ’em while they last” $29 battery for my iPhone. Upon entering the mall, I passed the shuttered carcasses of several stores that had succumbed to diseases affecting so many retail establishments today: Slow sales, decreased foot traffic and Amazon. Teavana, a specialty tea store where I purchased the mugs, was among the victims; I arrived to find its shelves barren and its entrance locked.
Just across the aisle was the Apple Store, bustling, as always, with activity. Seemingly every mall visitor was inside this space, playing, chatting, texting or just waiting. Observing this freneticism, I thought, “I could work here.” For this was the exact type of environment I’d be seeking in my golden years. Why spend retirement playing golf and reading World War II novels in solitude when I could interact with people, solve their problems, and be part of a company that, I’m reasonably certain, will never end up like Teavana? At least not judging by Apple stock price.
While I waited in the Genius Bar cue, I surveyed the employees, imagining one of them interviewing me for my future position:
“Hello, Greg. Nice to meet you. I’ve read your application, well, I scanned the first two lines on my iPhone. Quick question. Is Greg your actual name?”
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
“No, it’s just that we prefer our male employees have more Gen Z, millennial-ish names. If we hired you, could we call you Noah?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Take all the time you want. It’s very important that our employees have a significant amount of facial hair. No need to trim it; just have it. Joshua over there hasn’t shaved since he was hired eight months ago.”
“So it appears.”
“Noah, what’s your waist size?”
“I’m a 34. And 32 length.”
“Length isn’t necessary. You will be expected to wear shorts. The baggier, the better.”
“But it’s 7 degrees outside.”
“And…?
“Nothing.”
“Number of body piercings and tattoos?”
“Uh, none?”
“That could be a problem. We’d like you to have at least four of each. We’re an E Triple O organization.”
“Excuse me?”
“Equal Opportunity Orifice Organization. Pierce anywhere you like. As for tattoos, your employee manual lists a few nearby parlors. All are open 24 hours. Remember our motto: ‘INK MAKES US THINK!”
“Got it.”
“Now, Noah, your duties would be pretty straightforward. You’ll check customers in by typing furiously on an iPad, making it appear you are intently concerned about their issues. Then you’ll give them the standard Apple Genius Bar line. What is it?”
“Wait here and someone will come to you.”
“Excellent. But please, try not to laugh when you say it.”
“What if there’s no place to wait? I mean, it’s pretty crowded here now.”
“There’s always a place to wait in the Apple Store. Cram a few customers in that gap between the iMac Pro and the Apple Watch displays. Encourage them to play with both. We want customers to be happy and curious when we tell them we don’t have any replacement batteries in stock.”
“But won’t that make them angry?”
“Temporarily, yes. But once they see their iPhones dying before their eyes, they’ll resort to begging. That’s when you suggest they upgrade to the iPhone X. Plenty of those in stock.”
“Got it.”
“Any other questions, Noah?”
“I don’t think so. When will I find out if I’ve been hired?”
“Wait here. Someone will come to you.”
