Into the Mac trap

For two years running, Steve Jobs spent more time during his Macworld Expo keynote talking up luxury car iPod sockets than he did his own server product line. If Apple won’t bother pitching Xserve and Xserve RAID to the value-conscious audience, then what’s up with the BMW, Mercedes, and Ferrari logos?

Well, the audience went nuts over them. I expect I’ll get the thumbs-up from Ferrari drivers every time they see my white earbuds.

But in reality, the luxury car logo slides allow Jobs to lift his veil

of everyman subtlety. They’re indicative of Apple’s marketing, sales, and customer retention strategy. And that strategy comes into focus best in The Apple Stores, hereafter known as “the Dealership.” The Dealerships don’t sell you anything. Whenever I’ve been in one, I’ve always had to ask for assistance. And when I get it, it’s emotionless.

After a quick (“This is it?”) tour around the first floor, where the polycarbonate-encased parts, software cables, and digital cameras were displayed, I was drawn to an intimidating, neo-mansion-like glass staircase leading to the second floor. All I could see from below was a dark and empty theater at the top; high walls blocked my view of everything else. Was I supposed to go up there? Oddly, there were no signs beckoning.

“Up there” is where the Dealership does its selling. Well-groomed young men and women of exceptionally good breeding introduce themselves with handshakes and business cards, each wearing an iPod in plain view. Once again, classy people do the iPod thing. These people will show you under the hood, talk about features, discuss software, and even go over financing.

The first floor/second floor setup is strikingly similar to the distinction between the used car office and the new car showroom at a luxury car dealership. People who walk from the door straight up to the second floor have a palpable attitude about it.

There were only two instances when an employee sought eye contact with me. The first was upstairs in the new car ... er, systems sales department, then once more, downstairs at checkout. That’s where the warmth finally comes through, but only after you approach and it’s clear you’re ready to buy. When I handed over my basket and credit card, a friendly sales clerk welcomed me to the club, although not in so many words. But the guy was no clerk. He was the first floor’s closer, but he wasn’t closing my pending sale. I was the merchandise and Apple Computer was the customer.

The combination of no pressure, the spooky quiet, and pristine white surroundings made this Apple Store feel like a mixture of a museum, a church, and the waiting room at the Mercedes-Benz dealership. I found the experience pleasant, if a bit sterile.

And they almost got me. I showed up intending to buy a logo pen or a set of headphones (both outrageously overpriced). About 90 minutes later, I was headed for the counter with $300 worth of stuff, all priced at full retail. Then I came to my senses, like a not-quite-addicted gambler who catches himself right before he’s about to go over his promised limit. I put all but $130 worth of merchandise back, and my two purchases are still in a bag in my office. If I had stayed just a little longer, I’d probably be making lease payments on a Power Mac G5 and wondering how I let myself do it.