“Extra details like this add even more tension by mimicking the way brains process peak moments of stress. When we realise our car is about to crash, say, the brain needs to temporarily increase its ability to control the world. Its processing power surges and we become aware of more features in our environment, which has the effect of making time seem to slow down. In exactly this way, storytellers stretch time, and thereby build suspense, by packing in extra saccadic moments and detail.” (Will Storr, The Science of Storytelling)
I used to be one of those people who’d eagerly check the “Today at Apple” schedule at my local Apple Store. There was something magical about walking into that sleek, glass-walled space and knowing I was about to learn something new—something creative. Whether it was a deep dive into photo editing on the iPad, a music production workshop with GarageBand, or even a coding session with Swift Playgrounds, these courses felt like a gateway to unlocking the full potential of Apple’s tools. They weren’t just tutorials; they were experiences that left you inspired, with skills you could actually use.
That was before Covid hit. Like so many things, “Today at Apple” had to adapt, and I get it—health and safety first. But what started as a necessary pivot to online sessions has, over time, turned into something else entirely. The program I once loved has been stripped down to the basics, and honestly, it’s disappointing.
The Golden Days of “Today at Apple”
Let me take you back. Picture this: It’s 2019, and I’m sitting in an Apple Store, surrounded by other curious minds, as an instructor walks us through advanced storytelling techniques using Final Cut Pro. We’re not just learning how to trim clips; we’re learning how to craft a narrative, how to use pacing and sound to evoke emotion. By the end of the session, I felt like I’d leveled up—not just in software proficiency, but in creativity. That was the beauty of “Today at Apple” back then. It wasn’t about teaching you the bare minimum; it was about pushing you to explore what was possible.
And it wasn’t just me. I’d see people of all ages—kids, professionals, retirees—engaging with these courses, each walking away with something valuable. The program had depth. It had variety. It had soul.
The Post-Covid Shift
Then came 2020. The world shut down, and so did the in-store “Today at Apple” program. When the program finally returned in person, it wasn’t the same. Gone were the advanced courses that challenged you to think differently. Instead, the curriculum now feels like a series of “Intro to [Insert Apple Product Here]” sessions.
Take the photography workshops, for example. Pre-Covid, you could attend a course on mastering manual camera settings or creating a photo essay. Now? It’s “How to Take a Great Photo with Your iPhone”—a session that, while useful for beginners, barely scratches the surface for anyone who’s spent more than five minutes with the Camera app. It’s like going from a masterclass to a quick-start guide.
Why This Matters
I know what you’re thinking: “It’s just a free course at an Apple Store. What did you expect?” Fair point. But here’s the thing—Apple has always positioned itself as a company that champions creativity. Their entire brand is built on the idea that their tools can help you “think different” and create something extraordinary. “Today at Apple” was a tangible extension of that ethos. It was a way for Apple to say, “Hey, we’re not just selling you a device; we’re giving you the skills to make something amazing with it.”
Now, it feels like they’re just checking a box. The courses are still there, but the heart is gone. It’s as if Apple has decided that most users only need the basics, and that’s a shame. Because the people who showed up to those advanced sessions? They were the ones pushing the boundaries, the ones who saw Apple’s tools as more than just gadgets—they saw them as instruments of creation.
A Plea to Apple
So, Apple, here’s my plea: Bring back the depth. Bring back the courses that challenge us, that inspire us to go beyond the basics. You’ve got the resources, the talent, and the audience. Don’t let “Today at Apple” remain a relic of what it once was.
In the meantime, I’ll keep my old course notes and screenshots from those pre-Covid sessions. They’re a reminder of a time when walking into an Apple Store meant more than just buying the latest iPhone—it meant learning how to make something beautiful with it at the intersection of technology and liberal arts.
Note: this post was crafted by me with writing help from Grok by xAI.
Way back in 2016 when I was contemplating my retirement, I found myself pondering what projects might keep me engaged once my long-standing career in payments consulting came to an end. One compelling idea that emerged during this reflective period was the prospect of writing another book. This time, I envisioned the topic focusing on the intriguing story behind Interstate 280, often referred to as “the world’s most beautiful freeway.”
Our family’s migration from the Midwest to California took place in the early 1960s, a time when the interstate highway system in the San Francisco Bay Area was still a work in progress. At that point, I-280 had not yet been completed. As I approached the age of obtaining my driver’s license and gained the freedom that came with access to a car, I remember setting off on explorative drives down the peninsula. During those excursions, I gradually became aware of the ongoing construction and development involved in building this iconic road.
Eventually, after years of planning and labor, I-280 was completed in the early 1970s. At that time, I was working for IBM and was engaged in a project that took me down to an IBM lab facility located on Sand Hill Road—a place that has since vanished. Driving along I-280 during those initial years was an absolute delight, with the smooth asphalt feeling fresh and new under my tires. The experience of traversing a well-constructed highway surrounded by natural beauty was euphoric.
Sidenote: that IBM lab on Sand Hill Road was where Gene Amdahl was working on what turned out to be his last project working for IBM. That project was abruptly terminated one day and Amdahl left to found what became Amdahl Computer, developer of the first of the serious IBM mainframe “clone” threats.
In stark contrast to other freeways that meander through urban landscapes or feature monotonous views, 280’s route is distinguished by its breathtaking scenery. The rolling hills, lush vegetation, and stunning vistas create a picturesque drive that sparkles in comparison to its sibling highway, US 101, which navigates through the more densely populated areas closer to San Francisco Bay.
As I brainstormed the possibility of transforming my interest in I-280 into a full-fledged book project, I realized there must be an abundance of fascinating stories to uncover regarding the history of this highway—particularly pertaining to how the route was established and agreed upon. To delve deeper into this narrative, I invested considerable time gathering a wealth of documents. A few hours of dedicated Google searches yielded a treasure trove of information, which I organized into a folder for easy access. However, I soon found myself lacking a clear methodology for effectively utilizing these documents to craft an engaging narrative.
Recently, I have begun experimenting with Google’s NotebookLM, which appears to be tailored precisely to meet my needs. This innovative tool allows me to input numerous documents and then facilitates various inquiries about the collected material. I can explore whether there are any captivating and compelling stories waiting to be told. As I embark on this new journey of exploration, I am filled with a sense of excitement and renewed vigor for my little project. While it remains uncertain whether a full-fledged book will emerge from this endeavor, I am intrigued by the possibilities and look forward to seeing how this story unfolds. Perhaps this exploration will not only breathe life into my ideas but also provide a narrative worth sharing with others. We shall see!
In his latest book, The Infernal Machine: A True Story of Dynamite, Terror, and the Rise of the Modern Detective, Steven Johnson explores a fascinating paradox: Alfred Nobel, the inventor of dynamite and founder of the Nobel Peace Prize, unwittingly provided a weapon for radical anarchists. Nobel, seeking a safe way to harness the power of nitroglycerin for infrastructure projects, unleashed a destructive force that could be wielded by a single individual.
The chaos caused by anarchist bombings sparked a national outcry for a more sophisticated federal response to crime.Enter a young J. Edgar Hoover, who at the time was a rising star in the Bureau of Investigation (BOI), a precursor to the FBI. Hoover, with his keen eye for organization and ambition, saw the anarchist threat as an opportunity to transform the BOI into a powerful national agency. Johnson explores how the BOI’s pursuit of anarchists under Hoover’s leadership laid the groundwork for the FBI’s methods and tactics. While effective in capturing some dangerous criminals, these tactics also foreshadowed the FBI’s later controversies surrounding surveillance and civil liberties.
The chilling irony is that the fight against anarchists fueled by dynamite led to the very surveillance methods we grapple with today, a legacy with both significant benefits and sometimes serious drawbacks.
Johnson, a master storyteller, weaves these narratives together in a way that reminds me of another historical connector,James Burke, and his classic series “Connections.” Both shine a light on the unexpected ways seemingly unrelated events can be deeply intertwined.
Over the weekend, I started reading Cal Newport’s latest book, Slow Productivity, and was very pleasantly surprised.
As someone who’s grown jaded from reading too many formulaic productivity books, I expected more of the same. Instead, I found a refreshing departure from the norm.
Given my bias, I initially skipped ahead to the third major topic, “Obsess Over Quality.” But Newport’s engaging storytelling drew me in, and I was hooked. He uses the singer-songwriter Jewel’s story to illustrate the importance of prioritizing quality over quick returns. Jewel’s motto, “hardwood grows slowly,” resonated deeply with me, and I found myself invested in learning more about her journey.
Newport’s storytelling is excellent, and I enjoyed Jewel’s story so much that I went back to the beginning of the book and started reading again from the start. What a delightful experience! Instead of a formulaic productivity book, Newport uses storytelling to great effect, developing and explaining his key points in a compelling and relatable way.
Highly recommended!
Note: also check out this edition of Mike Schmitz’s Bookworm podcast for a review of Slow Productivity where he rates it 5.0 out of 5.0.
I was recently reminded of the old adage that we are often separated by a common language!…
Over the weekend, I listened to an episode of Paul Miller’s podcast “The Pathless Path,” featuring Billy Oppenheimer. Billy works as assistant to Ryan Holiday and he shared valuable insights on extracting compelling stories from research, a skill he and Ryan have honed. I thoroughly enjoyed the conversation!
During the discussion, Paul asked Billy about his time in Western Australia, prompting a delightful anecdote. Soon after arriving in Australia, Billy struck up a conversation with a stranger over drinks and asked the usual question: “What do you do?” The stranger’s response was both surprising and enlightening: “Oh, you’re American!” It turns out that asking someone about their occupation isn’t as common in Australia as it is in the US.
This story highlights the cultural nuances of communication and the importance of being aware of them. Sometimes, we must try and learn from our mistakes when our use of a common language doesn’t quite translate.
Bonus:
Billy publishes a weekly newsletter, “Six at 6,” every Sunday evening, featuring six fascinating stories. If you enjoy reading interesting stories, his newsletter is a treat!
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