Break down (pt. 1)
The Apple story is busy, as usual. There are a lot of people walking around, and even more huddling by the equipment. They travel in packs, since I don't see singletons walking around.
Currently, I’m on a laptop at the front of the store, checking my e-mail. I haven’t been near a computer all day, and I’m sure my inbox is filling up. While clicking on the keyboard, trying to get the hotmail page to open, my cell phone begins to ring. Since I’m expecting a call from someone, I dig into my mitchel, pull it out, and press the talk button.
“Steven, where are you?” says the voice on the line.
“I’m on the phone.” I look at the display on the phone and it says private instead of showing an actual number.
“I tried calling two times and you’re not home.” It’s T. She does this all the time. She’ll call my place several times in a day just to see if I’m home and then stresses out if I don’t pick up the phone. Am I supposed to be sitting beside the phone, waiting for her to call?
“Well, it’s because I’m not at home.” I continue to look down at the laptop in front of me.
“Where are you? Toronto?” She says Toronto, like she’s fearful it’s going to eat her up, like the animal prints she adores to clothe herself with.
“Yes, I’m in Toronto.”
“Are you staying there overnight?”
What sort of question is that? And, why is it any of her business?
“How many times do I stay here overnight? And who am I going to stay with?”
“I don’t know. I just thought – “ I cut her off before she contiunes with her thought.
“What is it? Do you need anything? Do you need me to pick you up?” I look up and around me, with the phone cradled in the crook of my neck. There’s one girl standing in front of me, tapping away at another laptop.
“No, it’s not that. Steven, I’m getting a vision… I have a terrible feeling something is going to happen to you…”
Did she just say what I think she just said? A vision?
“I’m at the mall, surrounded by people. Nothing is going to happen to me.” I roll my eyes, taking a good look around the sterility of the store. White walls and a grey floor do not signify fun and futuristic as they do uninspired and unfinished.
“I have a feeling. Oh, I’m not feeling well. See, what you do to me? I was feeling better, but now I’m not feeling well. Something is going to happen to you. I can just feel it. You’re in great danger…”
“You know what? You’re just paranoid.” Not to mention, sounding crazier by the second. Why is it that I’m the one who gets these phone calls? Why is it that I’m the one who has to listen to her when her lucidity is lacking? “Nothing is going to happen to me. If you don’t need anything, I’ll see you later.”
“Take care of yourself!” she yells into her mouthpiece, her voice travelling into my phone and being heard by the other shoppers. “Don’t let anything happen to you!”
“Bye.” Click. I look up again, and see there are a couple of people looking at me. I must’ve been talking a little too loud. Either that, or T was talking loud. I give them a shrug, place the cell phone in my mitchel and continue checking my e-mail.
A few minutes later, when I log off the computer, I think of the first thing any rational person would do: call somebody and tell them what just happened.
Currently, I’m on a laptop at the front of the store, checking my e-mail. I haven’t been near a computer all day, and I’m sure my inbox is filling up. While clicking on the keyboard, trying to get the hotmail page to open, my cell phone begins to ring. Since I’m expecting a call from someone, I dig into my mitchel, pull it out, and press the talk button.
“Steven, where are you?” says the voice on the line.
“I’m on the phone.” I look at the display on the phone and it says private instead of showing an actual number.
“I tried calling two times and you’re not home.” It’s T. She does this all the time. She’ll call my place several times in a day just to see if I’m home and then stresses out if I don’t pick up the phone. Am I supposed to be sitting beside the phone, waiting for her to call?
“Well, it’s because I’m not at home.” I continue to look down at the laptop in front of me.
“Where are you? Toronto?” She says Toronto, like she’s fearful it’s going to eat her up, like the animal prints she adores to clothe herself with.
“Yes, I’m in Toronto.”
“Are you staying there overnight?”
What sort of question is that? And, why is it any of her business?
“How many times do I stay here overnight? And who am I going to stay with?”
“I don’t know. I just thought – “ I cut her off before she contiunes with her thought.
“What is it? Do you need anything? Do you need me to pick you up?” I look up and around me, with the phone cradled in the crook of my neck. There’s one girl standing in front of me, tapping away at another laptop.
“No, it’s not that. Steven, I’m getting a vision… I have a terrible feeling something is going to happen to you…”
Did she just say what I think she just said? A vision?
“I’m at the mall, surrounded by people. Nothing is going to happen to me.” I roll my eyes, taking a good look around the sterility of the store. White walls and a grey floor do not signify fun and futuristic as they do uninspired and unfinished.
“I have a feeling. Oh, I’m not feeling well. See, what you do to me? I was feeling better, but now I’m not feeling well. Something is going to happen to you. I can just feel it. You’re in great danger…”
“You know what? You’re just paranoid.” Not to mention, sounding crazier by the second. Why is it that I’m the one who gets these phone calls? Why is it that I’m the one who has to listen to her when her lucidity is lacking? “Nothing is going to happen to me. If you don’t need anything, I’ll see you later.”
“Take care of yourself!” she yells into her mouthpiece, her voice travelling into my phone and being heard by the other shoppers. “Don’t let anything happen to you!”
“Bye.” Click. I look up again, and see there are a couple of people looking at me. I must’ve been talking a little too loud. Either that, or T was talking loud. I give them a shrug, place the cell phone in my mitchel and continue checking my e-mail.
A few minutes later, when I log off the computer, I think of the first thing any rational person would do: call somebody and tell them what just happened.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
5 Comments:
In short: look both ways when crossing the street. And watch out for falling pianos.
Your mitchel? I must be thoroughly engrossed in the nothingness that is much of America to not know what a mitchel is. Your friend sounds awfully nervous, on edge. Sounds scary. Scary too for those around. Seems to always have those fingers of effect reaching out to even those that are around. Thinking about you......in a good way.
Actually, this T person sounds a lot like my sister: worried all the time and VERY nosey.
i thought u lived in Toronto, no?
of course, you blogged about it!
i'm not a huge apple store fan at all.
your friend is awesome. you should have used your speakerphone on the cell so everyone could have listened, and gotten a laugh.
Oh, I forgot... you have a crappy 1993 model of a cellphone. the one with the rotary dial.
:)
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