Rant Break

Whoever designed Best Buy's in-store customer service script is either a moron or an evil mastermind. In the span of ten minutes, I was ambushed by five different perky young men giving me the same two line spiel.

"Hi, how are you this evening?" and "Do you have any questions?"

Don't they realize that if people had questions, they'd actually ask them? Not like clerks are hard to find--the entire store is crawling with merrily pushy presonnel. Shudder. Especially the ones manning the video game racks. These guys are probably not hired, but bred in a secret underground lair. Which would explain why they can't read basic facial expressions, such as scowls, glares and snarls.

But they're nothing compared to the drone that lurks in the TV section. His programming is more complex. He waits until you're transfixed by the pretty pictures, then he springs on you from the shadows. And he doesn't let go. If it wouldn't hinder his performance, he would probably have theme music, like Jaws.

I kid not. There I am, in the dark and desolate depths of the home theatre section (yeah, that was my first mistake), when--poof!--a blue'n'khaki outfit containing what passes for a person materializes from behind a shelf. It wields a smile and a clipboard, and I begin to be afraid.

"Hi!" goes the outfit. "How are you this evening?"

"Fine." This is a dark mutter. Real people would know.

Not the outfit. "Do you have any questions?"

"No." Forget dark mutter. We're talking evil curse.

Except this is a machine. "Well, my name is Tim, and I'll be around."

Forget evil curses. Just back away slowly.

"I'll be happy to answer your questions."

Didn't I say I had no questions? Forget that. Make no eye contact and run. Which I do. I practically bolt when, at the exit to the TV section--poof!--there's Tim with his clipboard, beaming at me.

"Have a good evening."

I bare my teeth and glower.

"And come back soon!"

Is he kidding? The Uranium PU-36 Space Modulator wouldn't be strong enough to deal with his kind, and I'm not going to pat any of them down to find the off-switch. Besides, that would leave me open to asault from corporate lawyers, which are deadlier than any drone.

I just ran. Far enough to end up at the movie theatre, watching Sahara. And I detest Dirk Pitt.

But anything Clive Cussler is another rant.