Just before Christmas, the Boston Globe ran a story ["Where old-fashioned customer service meets edgy technology," Dec. 20, 2009, by D.C. Denison] that might be considered a puff piece for the bright, white, and translucent Apple Stores. But I found some insight in the article for why Apple technology tools have become a big part of my life.
The story recounts the development of Apple Stores. I've been a fan of the stores since visiting my first, in Indianapolis, about a year before I switched from PCs to Macs in 2006. The stores are an embodiment of the John Naesbitt "high tech/high touch" futurist call for successful businesses, which is also pretty much also the point of the Globe headline. Apple Stores are full of interesting people (and by this, I mean the staff, not the customers) who seemingly just want to help. They are empowered to give answers or get answers. They know their stuff.
When I visit Apple Stores for purchases, for browsing, for training, and especially for in-person technical support from the "geniuses" at the "Genius Bar," I feel like people give me credit for knowing a thing or two. I don't feel as if I'm being put down, and I don't feel as if the staff is so undertrained — as is often the case at other stores — that they are operating several rungs below me.
I also like making reservations for a Genius Bar time slot from my computer at home or inside the Apple Store.
But the true reason why I am an Apple Mac and iPhone fan, including hardware and software, comes at the end of the Globe's piece. It's all one system, one experience.
[A]t the Genius Bar, ... architect Dave Schatzle sat down for a session he was hoping would pay off short-term, as in immediately."It's a long story," Schatzle said as he presented his iPhone to Apple "genius" Nick Foh, "but let's just say that a cup of coffee fell off a shelf and splashed all over it."
A faint constellation of tiny, brown speckles gleamed from inside the display. The main controller was no longer responsive, Schatzle said.
Foh took the unit to a backroom workshop.
"It's in pretty bad shape on the inside," he said when he returned a few minutes later.
That was the bad news. The good news was that the information of his coffee-crippled phone could be transferred to a new unit, and since the phone was less than 3 months old, the store would replace it at no charge.
Schatzle looked surprised and relieved.
"The iPhone is cool, but this is really cool," he said, waving an arm in the direction of the Genius Bar.
"If this store wasn't here," Schatzle added, "then this iPhone wouldn't be that good. When you think about it, it's all one product."
I've had a dozen experiences just like this — without a newspaper reporter around. I think architect Dave Schatzle has it right: "It's all one product." And a good one at that.
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