I don't usually hug people. Family and friends know this about me. And most coworkers have figured that out about me. But I almost went against my hug-resistance movement yesterday at the Apple store. Because I dropped my phone on the concrete a few days ago and severely cracked the screen, exactly 13 days after getting it for my birthday from my parents.
Side note - Mom, if you're reading this. I'm sorry I broke my iPhone. I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd be disappointed (parentspeak for "MAD"). You can probably figure out why I kept this from you. But don't worry, there's a happy ending to this story.
So I took my 13-day old phone to the Apple store and asked them what I could do about it. After making an appointment for 6 minutes later (complete with a confirmation email that I didn't get until I got home) and waiting for 5 minutes, I showed it to one of the workers at the Genius Bar. And she said it would normally cost $199 to get a new phone if the display is cracked.
And I'd like to say I turned on the charm and suavely convinced her to give me a discount. But I just frowned and fought back the tears. And she said that one word that hope dangles precariously from in such situations. She said, "But...."
And I just knew she was gonna tell me she could charge me half of that. But, even better than that, she said, "But... I can go ahead and replace it for free today. Merry Christmas."
And I'm not lying when I say I almost hugged her right there on the spot. I've never felt so much fondness for a complete stranger, except when I saw that 65-year old man do a handstand on a street corner in college. That was awesome. And yesterday was awesome too.