Potty Day at The Apple Store

I promise I did not throw my old 5s phone in the toilet just to get a new phone for if I did I would have done it on a day I had seven free hours to replace it or even better on a day when Russ was home, but I am just not that smart. Instead I made an idiot move and had my phone fall out of my back pocket into the potty for the second time in my life. To make matters worse, not only did I disable my communication device but also Russ’s in the transaction of trying to replace mine.
As soon as I heard the plop in the water I knew my day had changed dramatically. Russ is in Colorado on a big week away so I had no tech department to lean on to help me fix the mess I had made. I quickly dropped my phone in a bag of rice, which really did nothing and drove down to the Apple Store, which really is more like a nursing home these days with people old enough to be my grandparents trying to understand their devices.
After waiting almost an hour to see a tech I was told despite having Apple Care I would not be able to get a new phone for five days since my “old model” was not in stock. This is a brilliant marketing move to sell me a new upgraded model. I was passed from a tech to a salesman who asked me virtually no questions and had a new model in my hands within moments. Also too good to be true.
After credit card exchanges and contracts to sign I was passed off to an install specialist who walked me through downloading my info from the cloud. Thank goodness for the cloud, but the walk through was a crawl that took an hour and I finally had to walk out before all my apps had been loaded, but my tech promised me I was well on my way.
I called Carter as my test call. Of course she was in class and could not answer, so I left a message, confident that the phone worked. As I was walking back to my car she returned my call with the question, “Why did Daddy’s name and number come up on the voicemail with your voice?” This was a technical question to me, so I just thought it was because he was the account holder. WRONG!
I got to lunch and as my friend Shelayne arrived she asked me if I got her text. No. “I got a text from you from a strange number,” she told me. I looked at her phone and discovered the text I sent her was attached to Russ’ phone number and that the Apple Store had not ported my phone number over to the new phone, but had changed Russ’. S%#* T. Then I got a text that was meant for Russ. DOUBLE S&#T!

I sent Russ an email alerting him that his calls and texts were coming to me and promised I would fix it, but of course I had no idea if that was possible. After a quick lunch it was back to the Apple Store where I told the first victim, I mean employee, that I might wreck the store. He quickly recognized the error of the store’s way and got me Ricky, a person trained in hostage negotiations, to help fix my problem.
Turns out once they made this mistake they could not restore Russ ‘ phone at all. It would take his going to get a whole new SIM card somewhere out in the wild wild west between important and back to back meetings. Right!  
Apple could restore my number to my new phone and it only involved returning the current phone and repurchasing it and giving me a new SIM card. After an hour of that Ricky was on the way to restoring my apps and he discovered that the new phone I was sold was the wrong storage size by 300%. TRIPPLE S#%T!
Return the phone again and get the right one and download everything from the cloud again, check it, wipe the old phone clean and return it. Seven hours in total at the Apple Store. I got in my car and discovered that my new phone did not pair with my car, nor my watch and many of my apps needed passwords I am too old to remember. QUADRUPLE S#%T! Only appropriate since this all started by dropping my phone in the toilet.