Yesterday I noticed that there was a Geek Squad truck in the neighborhood. I should have realized that one was nearby, because the very air crackled with geekiness and several people were lying comatose by the roadway after having received needlessly technical explanations from Geek Squad members.
I like the Geek Squad idea, and I bet it works well for Best Buy. After all, everyone — even the biggest frat guy or stud athlete, who would otherwise sneer at the citizens of geekdom — knows that there are times when you really need a geek. Installing a home theater system, as this Geek Squad was doing, is one such instance. And pretty much anything that requires you to talk about a “router” or “portals” also makes meaningful geek participation mandatory.
After I saw the truck, I realized that I have never seen a member of the Geek Squad. They must be elusive, moving from one geek crisis to another with no waste motion, filled with geek excitement at the looming technological challenge.
I found myself wondering what the uniform of the Geek Squad might be. I concluded it probably involved horn-rimmed glasses taped together at the nose bridge, a faded paisley short-sleeve shirt buttoned up to the neck, green pants worn at flood tide length, white socks, and black shoes. Then I realized I had just described my appearance in my seventh-grade class picture.