CPR’s expertly trained service technicians can fix the Nano or “repair the Pinkie” no matter how tough the troubleshooting gets.
It wasn’t long ago when the first iPod Nano knockoffs were brought naked into our unsuspecting repair shops, one after the other. They came from China, maybe Taiwan, maybe the mainland. Who actually manufactured them and sold them to gullible but thrifty Americans in the United States is anybody’s guess. One prominent distributor being mentioned was a bizarro referred to only cryptically as ‘Nanohead.’ He looked a little like ‘Eraserhead’ from that classic film of the same name, circa 1980, but this is innuendo, since no CPR employee has ever actually seen him.
An iPod Nano is constructed with several capacities, but the worst of the Nano nonos are these: 512MB, 1GB, and 2GB. Each is ugly as sine, as in critical function, a gadget reeking of cheap construction with little attention paid to detail. On the iPod Nano’s dial, this knockoff is made to resemble a genuine Apple, one suspects, until one of CPR’s observant technicians happened to notice that instead of “Menu,” a Nano customer has to settle for an “M,” while the gadget’s “play” button is in the center of the dial, gazing back at you like a Cyclops arrived fresh from the junker heaps in Hades. Greek mythology aside, volume is controlled at the dial’s bottom, why, no one really knows, unless it has something to do with a spanking. With that instruction in mind, sometimes a CPR technician’s well-placed little tap made the Nano “M” hum again.
Another fake iPod got their start as part of a U.S. government giveaway program. A group called “Voice for Humanity” began passing out customized digital audio players that looked like the trendy iPods, only they were pink—the hue having something to do with the gadgets intended as literacy tools for Afghan women inhabiting remote villages. Several of these “pinkies,” as they came to be called by our clever service technicians always at the ready, made their way through the doors of selected CPR storefronts.
We were as adept at fixing these as we’d been at repairing the Nanos, even if our service technicians instinctively recoiled from their litany of National Public Radio-like sounds, primarily public service messages on topics including human rights, women’s rights, Afghanistan’s elections, and reproductive health, in other words – what went on under the burka. Fortunately, these too were relatively easy to fix.