For about a month Spotify hadn’t been working properly on my Samsung Focus. I couldn’t “search” for songs via my phone; I had to wait until I got onto my home computer. So last Saturday I finally decided to take matters into my own hands. Big mistake.

Uninstall? Click-click. Done: Spotify uninstalled. Easy-peasy.

Reinstall? Go to Spotify on the Web. Click “Download.” Easy—. Wait.

There was an error message saying that Spotify wasn’t compatible with my phone and that I needed an update. I went to my phone’s settings, but there were no new updates. I tried to login to my Spotify account manually, but it said my username and/or password were wrong, and that I needed to login via Facebook. So I went to FB and was told that it wasn’t compatible with the iE browser on my phone (which is weird, because I already have a FB app on my phone), so I tried to download Chrome, which stalled out and hung…!

I repeated this vicious cycle of attempting anything and everything I could think of to try to get Spotify back on my phone. (Because without tunes, how was I going to do my workout? Amiright?) I wished I could call one of my tech colleagues from Everon, but it was the weekend; I hated the idea of bugging them with work. By Saturday night I was dreading the thought of tackling a 35-minute powerwalk without Iggy Azalea telling me to “Work!”

A sick feeling began to develop in the pit of my stomach. I knew I was going to have to visit a phone store. Maybe the pros could fix what was wrong. Or maybe my 3 year-old Samsung Focus was just too old, too antiquated. Maybe I’d have to crack and change. I was facing the possibility of having to readjust my life to a new phone. Probably an Android.

The hot trend that stormed the market this month is the phablet—like Samsung’s Galaxy Note 4 (which pioneered phablets four years ago; Android), Apple’s iPhone 6 Plus (iOS), and Motorola’s Moto X (also Android). I’m not sure how I feel about handling the oversized devices or whether they would fit into my purse-pockets, but the idea of being able to write and text more easily is starting to grow on me.

However, I’m used to Windows, and I’m not a heavy-duty app user. I can organize my schedule and sync it with Outlook. I can take notes and upload my photos to OneDrive. I recently learned how to utilize the GPS-thingy so I can navigate to new places in Boulder. And I absolutely love my Spotify. But all of Microsoft’s latest bells and whistles, like Cortana (Microsoft’s Siri), and its forthcoming, universal Windows OS, are getting ready to be overhauled into the new Lumia (Microsoft is dropping the Nokia brand name) sometime in 2015. So I’d like to put off a purchase for as long as possible.

Sunday morning, shortly after the mall opened, I put on my game-face, strode past Old Navy, H&M, and even White House Black Market—without wavering—all the way to the AT&T store. (Yup: I didn’t stop. Didn’t even look at the storefronts. Music is that important.) Fortunately, my exposure to the funny, friendly techs here at Everon has rendered me uber-comfortable dealing with techs. It was pretty easy for me to hand my phone to the guy behind the counter, Alex, and explain the problem. Alex frowned, going through the same vicious cycle of error messages I’d been through earlier.

“Sorry this is taking me a while,” he apologized. “We don’t get a lot of Windows phones in here.” Yeah, I figured. I’m in a minority of cell phone owners. I’m sure my game-face morphed into reluctant resignation as I began glancing at the displays along the wall, wondering which one would be hard-sale-forced upon me.

Alex went to confer with a colleague. I wandered over to the wall and cradled the weird, curved shape of the LG Flex with its Android OS, the giant Samsung Galaxy Note 3 (the Note 4 won’t hit stores until October), and the Windows-based Nokia Lumia 1020, with a near-professional-grade camera and a hefty price tag. They all felt foreign in my palm. Alex came back; I returned to the counter.

“I know it’s really old,” I sighed, gesturing at my Focus. “I probably just need a new one.”

“But does this one work for you?” Alex asked.

“Well, aside from now, yes,” I shrugged.

“Well, then, that’s all that matters,” he said. “Let’s see if we can fix it.”

Wait—what?

I blinked. Yes, he’d just said that. He wasn’t going to hard-sell me on something I didn’t need; he was genuinely going to try to help me. Come to think of it, it’s the same attitude my guys maintain at work. Heck, it’s our motto: “People first, technology second.” Hope rose in my chest.

Alex proceeded to go to the Windows Marketplace on my phone and download Spotify from there. It worked, without error messages. From there, we had a bit of trouble trying to correctly login (for some reason it wanted my old username), but suddenly—voila—music!

He handed me back my phone. I gushed thank yous at him as he smiled, nodded, and turned to the next customer. It wasn’t until I’d practically danced out the door of the shop that I realized not only had I not had to buy a new phone, but I’d just had my phone fixed… for free… just because I have a monthly plan with AT&T.

Now I know what our Everon customers feel like when they rave about “dealing with true professionals” who fixed their machines. Ah, happy endings!