Stuff Hipsters Hate

Jan 06
Working at the Apple Genius Bar It’s one of the biggest cliches about hipsters on the record books (quaintly known as “blogs”) — that they are drawn like so many ill-fated flies to that most drone-like of workplaces, the Genius Bar. Well, dear readers, it’s time to strike that fallacy from the zeitgeist. Yes, many hipsters, not to mention literally hundreds of millions of contemporary human beings, own Apple products. But a hipster would sooner work at a Starbucks than stoop to don a blue polo and entomb himself in the whited sepulcher that is the Apple Store. First of all, the Apple Store represents a kind of rabid fan boy-ism that hipsters just don’t truck with: Rampant consumerism that impels one to wait in long, winding lines for the chance to stroke the white plastic casing of mass-produced opulence? The reverent manner with which true believers greet the periodic intoning of one Steve Jobs, booming words that seem to come from the very heavens, foretelling riches untold? Nah, they’ll save that fevered, before-the-oracle prostration for this year’s SXSW lineup. (But they’re actually kind of over that fest, anyway, come to think of it.) Secondly, those who are inclined toward the technical realm would much rather work at one of the smaller shops catering to those who bash and smash and dump Tecate on their keyboards. Shops that recall simpler days of yore, when one worked as a humble apprentice to a true master. Shops sandwiched between the dusty storefronts of ancient Russian cobblers and Polish pharmacies — shops where the proprietors take pride in their trade and value hard work and knowledge above the latest foolhardy gadgetry. And — bonus — such proprietors don’t really give a fuck if you kick off for an hour to smoke a joint in the alley, thereby forgetting to finish fixing that logic board (and possibly damaging it further after accidentally spilling loose tobacco into its coiling innards). (Photo) 

Working at the Apple Genius Bar

It’s one of the biggest cliches about hipsters on the record books (quaintly known as “blogs”) — that they are drawn like so many ill-fated flies to that most drone-like of workplaces, the Genius Bar.

Well, dear readers, it’s time to strike that fallacy from the zeitgeist. Yes, many hipsters, not to mention literally hundreds of millions of contemporary human beings, own Apple products. But a hipster would sooner work at a Starbucks than stoop to don a blue polo and entomb himself in the whited sepulcher that is the Apple Store.

First of all, the Apple Store represents a kind of rabid fan boy-ism that hipsters just don’t truck with: Rampant consumerism that impels one to wait in long, winding lines for the chance to stroke the white plastic casing of mass-produced opulence? The reverent manner with which true believers greet the periodic intoning of one Steve Jobs, booming words that seem to come from the very heavens, foretelling riches untold? Nah, they’ll save that fevered, before-the-oracle prostration for this year’s SXSW lineup. (But they’re actually kind of over that fest, anyway, come to think of it.)

Secondly, those who are inclined toward the technical realm would much rather work at one of the smaller shops catering to those who bash and smash and dump Tecate on their keyboards. Shops that recall simpler days of yore, when one worked as a humble apprentice to a true master. Shops sandwiched between the dusty storefronts of ancient Russian cobblers and Polish pharmacies — shops where the proprietors take pride in their trade and value hard work and knowledge above the latest foolhardy gadgetry.

And — bonus — such proprietors don’t really give a fuck if you kick off for an hour to smoke a joint in the alley, thereby forgetting to finish fixing that logic board (and possibly damaging it further after accidentally spilling loose tobacco into its coiling innards).

(Photo) 

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