I knew my iMac was in trouble when the screen offered more snow than straight. Every time I booted up, it flickered, stayed flickering, until I nodded it up and down a few times. Sometimes that helped, sometimes not. Sometimes iMac didn’t start at all, and I had to prepare sacrifices for Baal. Eventually, it always started, stubbornly.

I arrived at the Genius Bar ten minutes early. To my surprise, I was seated and pleading my case four minutes before my scheduled time. An auspicious beginning.

It didn’t last.

Genius Bar tried to power up, twice. Both times, Baal toyed with me. Genius Bar had seen enough. My LCD screen needed to be replaced, and a stubborn little wire probably did too. New LCD: $744. Service: $185. Stubborn cable: $23 and change.

Of course, Genius Bar tells me, if the cable isn’t a problem, we won’t replace it, and we won’t charge you.

Of course.

You know, Genius Bar continued, at this cost, it would make more sense to buy a new iMac for $1199 than replacing a four+ year old model.

Of course. This is how Apple operates. Three months after my Apple Care expires, LCD busts. Of course.

My option isn’t really an option. New iMac is five times faster, which is important for my line of work. It has a lot of other new sparkly features I’ll never use, but Genius Bar thinks I’ll enjoy them. I ask if I can store my old computer there—I was en route to teach, and had expected to leave it for repairs. No, no, not an Apple policy.

(Genius Bar is very nice and great to talk with. No blame is with him.)

I tell him I’ll lug it to the studio, and buy New Sparkly iMac tomorrow. I still wanted to salvage my hard drive. It had been backed up—three times—but reinstalling all those programs was more of a hassle than lugging around Dying iMac for a few hours. Four years is enough time to get attached.

We can do a Data Transfer here, you know, Genius Bar says. It’s the least we can do. Takes 24-48 hours, tops.

Great. I sign off, he walks me downstairs to Seller, calls me friend. Twice. Explains briefly my situation. Leaves Dying iMac by our feet. Seller listens; Genius Bar leaves. Seller asks what’s going on, as he didn’t understand what Genius Bar had just said. I repeat. He goes over to Conduit. Conduit disappears. Seller returns.

What, I ask Seller, do you all wear different colored t-shirts so you know who does what? Yeah, he responds. Orange runs around leading people from people to people. Dark Blue fixes things. Light Blue—us—sell things. So you wanted a 24” iMac?

No, the 20” will do, like the one I had.

OK. Do you want wireless or wired? Wireless is $50 more. I tell him that I already have a wireless set-up, so no need. Seller pulls out his iPhone, punches some stuff, goes away. He returns with New Sparkly iMac. I want him to set it down away from Dying iMac, so his feelings won’t get hurt. He doesn’t listen. He leads me to Cashier, who wears a black shirt.

New 20” iMac and Apple Care. That’s $1,489.41 that you don’t have, but Mastercard does. Is that all? I tell Cashier about Data Transfer. He tells me that will cost $99. I have to purchase One-To-One. (Actually a great new program: you buy a new computer, and for a flat fee of $99 you get as many one-to-one hour sessions with a Mac “expert” on using your computer as you want. How that relates to Data Transfer, I’m clueless.) I tell Cashier that Genius Bar said they’ll do it for free. He looks at Seller, who runs upstairs.

Cashier and I make small talk, which I’m horrible at. In the silent spaces, he tries to look nonchalant as he ogles me like I’m dinner. Seller has quick feet, thankfully.

Yeah, they’ll just do it, Seller says. Bye Cashier.

We return upstairs. Two computers in tow. Seller signs me into Quick Drop-Off. Genius Bar II appears. Seller explains what’s going on, and that he doesn’t really know what’s going on. New regulations regarding Data Transfer are confusing everyone. Genius Bar II says that yes, I have to purchase One-To-One for $99, and then Data Transfer is $50. $149. That I have to process downstairs.

We lug two computers downstairs, carefully (if you’ve ever been to Soho Apple, you get it), which is really hurting Dying iMac’s feelings. He doesn’t want to be reminded.

Ms. Genius Bar is down there. Seller explains what’s going on, and that he doesn’t know what’s going on. Ms. Genius Bar goes through Secret Door. Seller explains to me how the same thing happened to his iMac last year, and he had to buy a new one, before he started working at the store. He was pissed, too.

Ms. Genius Bar returns. I have options. I can buy One-To-One for $99, and then pay $85 for Data Transfer. Or, I could pay $184 for Data Transfer: $99 for Hardware, $85 for Software. I nod my head, having no idea what the hell that means, or why it’s even an option. Ms. Genius Bar tells me I might as well buy One-To-One, because then I can use it.

Of course.

I’m not making any of this up. I’m not capable of making any of this up.

Ms. Genius Bar walks away. Seller is dumbfounded. I tell him that I have to leave to get to work in five minutes. Actually, I had a half-hour buffer, but if I gave him that much time, he would use it. Seller goes into Slight Panic Mode. He tells me a data transfer takes fifteen minutes—can I wait? No. Firm but polite. I have to get to work.

Ok, we have to go upstairs to process this. Dying iMac is crying.

We return to Quick Drop Off. Genius Bar II appears. Hey man, why are you still here? Seller explains the charges. They both shake their heads, as does Genius Bar when he walks over. He’s apologizing profusely. I’d been there over an hour. Funny thing is, I’m enjoying this. Watching the process. Thus far, every one of them has been nothing but nice and accommodating. They were just confused, because all of these ridiculous policies are confusing, not to mention absurd. It reminded me of the two years that I worked for the Discovery Channel, when my job amounted to bringing one stack of paperwork from one place to another.

Genius Bar is helping a guy with three times as many tattoos as myself (which is saying a lot), so Genius Bar II takes control. Seller is off the hook and runs as fast as possible. Genius Bar II tells me that he has to charge me $85 for Data Transfer, but he’s dropping the $99 charge. I’ll get in trouble for this, Genius Bar II says, but I don’t care. What they’re telling you isn’t right.

A human being appears in the pile of paperwork.

You can pay when you pick it up, Genius Bar II says. Thanks, I reply. That’s one or two days, right? Two or three, he replies.

Of course.

I grab my paperwork, say goodbye to Genius Bar, who is still apologizing. He was very helpful, I say, truthfully. I walk don’t run out of the store. Somehow, none of it bothered me. I couldn’t let it. It’s absurd, but it’s real, and it’s what we’ve become. Letting all that fester inside of you is the worst choice of many.

En route to the subway, I stop into Balthazar’s for an almond croissant. We’re all out, Croissant Woman tells me. That always happens, I say. You should have called ahead, she replies with a smile. I just happened to be in the neighborhood, I say, laughing, and order a plain croissant. At that moment, it tasted just right.