I just got back from the DMV, i.e. The Worst Place On Earth.
Actually, I experienced another place this weekend that would rival the DMV for that title: Micro Center.
I took my fritzy Macbook to the Apple Store on Saturday, and the self-assuredly dubbed Apple Genius told me that yes, I needed a new hard drive, and no, I should not have it replaced in house. I appreciated his honesty, since his recommendation wound up saving me a couple hundred bucks.
But still. He sent me to Micro Center.
What is Micro Center? This horrible, horrible store full of electronics and screaming children. It’s located in a terribly depressing section of Denver called the Tech Center – a place where every building looks the same, and the only signs of life are a 7-11, a Mexican restaurant, and, well, Micro Center. They had what seemed like 75 employees, all walking around doing “things,” but I still had to wait in line for close to an hour. Eventually, I made it out – with a new hard drive, and a desperation for flora, fauna, chipmunks – anything but technology.
I spent most of my weekend coaxing my Macbook back to life. Just like an episode of “Rescue 911,” the process was harrowing – touch-and-go – and there was that crucial point when the music got solemn and uncertain, and I didn’t know if resuscitation was going to be possible. But as of today, thanks to my trusty backed-up files, we are back in business. My iPod overfloweth with Lady Gaga and Ke$ha.
I know. Just… I know.
Because I hadn’t quite gotten my fill of spending a lot of money on things that aren’t fun to spend money on, and I am also quite fond of torture and anguish, I headed to the DMV this morning on the frozen roads. $21 later, I am in possession of a wimpy piece of paper that doubles as my “temporary license.” Next up: Colorado plates.
Few things are as joyless as doling out sweet cash for things that bring you no happiness whatsoever.