"Hi.  This is my laptop.  The touchpad works fine, but the click button will not acknowledge any actual clicks.  Can you fix it?”

The nice man clicks the click button.

“I see.  Yes, the system is non-responsive.”

“Um, well, yes.  But that is probably because my computer is not actually turned on at the moment.  Should I turn it on?”

The nice man notices my laptop’s bent corner from when Peter some unknown person dropped it a year ago.

“Oh, wow.  See this?” He points to the bent case.  “This is probably the problem.”

“No, actually.  The computer has been fine.  I brought it in before and the corner was bent and no one noticed it.  The click button problem started three days ago.”

“Oh.  wow.  See, your logic board is undoubtedly damaged from the fall.  Apple Care isn’t going to cover any of this.” He taps the click button some more.  “Yeah, it’s the logic board.  It’s damaged from the kind of force it took to make this kind of dent.  You’ll need a new one.”

I put my palms flat against the sleek partition of glass and steel that seperates us.  I lean forward.

“I find it hard to believe any of that.” My words are one long exhalation.  “Since you diagnosed the problem without even turning on the computer.”

The nice man blinks and takes a step back. 

“Apple Care will cover this,” I say. 

“Errrr.”

“Would you like to turn on the computer before I leave?”

He says nothing and types something into a consol in front of him.  I leave with a receipt saying that I owe them no money.  For now. 

“Genius bar.” Genius.  I do not think this word means what they think it means.