Have a fear of heights? Spiders? Crowds? They’re all fairly common. I find them fascinating. But I’ve developed a unique disorder psychologists perhaps haven’t considered.

The fear of Apple.

Not the fruit. That’s Malusdomesticaphobia. No, this is far worse. I fear the Apple Store.

Try walking in on a Saturday. It’s Studio 54 in there. Music pumping, the room teeming with people mixing, laughing, imbibing. (Okay, not imbibing. But it’s a veritable phone-fest.)

Only somewhat easing my intimidation, I’m immediately greeted by an engaging twenty-something who, if I could only hear him behind his mask, was certainly articulating something important. After several requests to repeat it, I finally understood his muted message. “Two-hour wait.”

My heavy sigh was drowned out by the din, he noticed my disappointment. With what appeared to be muffled sympathy, through his cloth filter he probed, “Looking to upgrade?”

My prepared statement: “Just a repair.” He quickly summoned his cohort, who intuitively explained, (also through a stylish face covering) how my situation was ultimately hopeless. The only remedy? A new phone. And what the luck. There’s a special today.

He spoke circles around me, dizzying me with his vast technical lexicon. I found myself nodding. Smiling. Perhaps drooling. I can’t be sure. I blacked out for a minute. But I liked him. I don’t know what it was. But he won me over.

I was inches from signing when a little voice whispered, “Wait.” The Holy Spirit? Perhaps. I muttered something. I think it was “Let me go ask my wife.”

His demeanor shifted and, maintaining his bearded professionalism, admonished me to come back today to take advantage of this amazing offer. “I will,” I lied. I got out of there faster than a monkey in a Buick. (a monkey in a Buick???)

I stumbled out the door, a little sad, feeling like I just broke up with my phone guy. I’d only known him for three minutes. But it felt like four.

As I exited, other Apple-ites wished me farewell. “Thanks for stopping by.” “Come back and see us.” “Nice pants.” They sure know how to flatter a guy.

I got in my car, a little light-headed, but fully resolved to overcome my Apple-Phobia. I said a quick prayer and decided to see a counselor regularly.

Her name is Lois.