It was 11:47 PM when Leo’s elbow found his iPhone 15 Pro Max exactly where it shouldn’t have been: screen-down on the bathroom tile. The crack was that awful, final sound—like stepping on a frozen puddle. When he turned the phone over, a beautiful abstract spiderweb now decorated the display, with a black void blooming at its center.
“Hi,” the man said, exhausted. “I need a screen repair. No AppleCare.”
He clicked “Schedule.”
“Cracked screen with AppleCare+?” she asked, not even looking at the phone yet.
His memory snapped into focus. Six months ago, when he’d bought the phone, the Apple Store employee had given him the pitch. Leo had said no. Then the employee said, “You have 60 days to add it online. Just don’t forget.” He’d added it the next day during a boring meeting, mostly to stop the reminder emails.
Leo blinked. Twenty-nine dollars. He’d heard numbers like $329, $379, even $429 for the Pro Max. Twenty-nine dollars felt like a typo. He clicked “Schedule,” found a 9:00 AM slot at the Apple Store near the airport, and almost cried with relief. The next morning, he walked past the snaking line of walk-in customers—the ones with standard warranties, the ones who’d said “I’ll be careful.” A Genius named Tara took him in at exactly 9:00.
He opened the Apple Support app, heart still racing. The chatbot, “Annie,” greeted him with suspicious cheerfulness.
He sighed, opened the Apple Support app, and saw the words: “AppleCare+ covers unlimited incidents of accidental damage. Each incident: $29 for screen/back glass, $99 for other damage.”
It was 11:47 PM when Leo’s elbow found his iPhone 15 Pro Max exactly where it shouldn’t have been: screen-down on the bathroom tile. The crack was that awful, final sound—like stepping on a frozen puddle. When he turned the phone over, a beautiful abstract spiderweb now decorated the display, with a black void blooming at its center.
“Hi,” the man said, exhausted. “I need a screen repair. No AppleCare.”
He clicked “Schedule.”
“Cracked screen with AppleCare+?” she asked, not even looking at the phone yet.
His memory snapped into focus. Six months ago, when he’d bought the phone, the Apple Store employee had given him the pitch. Leo had said no. Then the employee said, “You have 60 days to add it online. Just don’t forget.” He’d added it the next day during a boring meeting, mostly to stop the reminder emails.
Leo blinked. Twenty-nine dollars. He’d heard numbers like $329, $379, even $429 for the Pro Max. Twenty-nine dollars felt like a typo. He clicked “Schedule,” found a 9:00 AM slot at the Apple Store near the airport, and almost cried with relief. The next morning, he walked past the snaking line of walk-in customers—the ones with standard warranties, the ones who’d said “I’ll be careful.” A Genius named Tara took him in at exactly 9:00.
He opened the Apple Support app, heart still racing. The chatbot, “Annie,” greeted him with suspicious cheerfulness.
He sighed, opened the Apple Support app, and saw the words: “AppleCare+ covers unlimited incidents of accidental damage. Each incident: $29 for screen/back glass, $99 for other damage.”
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