Our surveys show us that of any one single occupational group, AutoSpeed readers are dominated by IT professionals. People who, more often than not, have grown up with computers and have loved them so much that they have adopted them as their career choice. For them, the complexities of software installation, hardware conflicts, Windows and DOS are all just grist for the daily mill.
But - perhaps surprisingly for someone interested in technical gadgets - I loathe computers with a vengeance. Compared with most writers, I delayed and delayed even buying a PC, preferring instead to use a word processing typewriter. To me, the whole PC industry seemed to be not about providing a capable tool, but providing a sort of DIY hobby kit. And when I did finally upgrade, the transaction of money to Messrs Toshiba and Gates was done totally on the basis of, "Here are the dollars, now please give me a completely working laptop." The dealer did just that, and I started struggling with simultaneously learning how to use a PC, Windows, word processing programs and spreadsheets. Of course, it wasn't very long before the software was outdated and so I turned to a trusted friend - Paul Baishont - and said "Here's some money; do what is required." He upgraded the software, made the PC run a bit faster, and installed a host of utilities that I never even looked at, let alone understood their function.
That little laptop finally ended up being used as the sole computer of the editor of a national paper magazine.
But then something happened which changed forever my perspective on the use of home computers - the Web arrived. Here was a revolution in information exchange that I believed was to alter the world. In fact probably nothing less would have persuaded me to farewell the Toshiba. Again Paul did all the work, as he did for subsequent upgrades. All I specified was the new monitor - a 17-inch Sony. From years of looking through camera viewfinders, I have a thing about image sharpness - nothing less than the Sony was good enough to my eyes. Again, it wasn't long before further upgrades were needed. In fact, some of my new computers consisted of Paul's old gear - the benefit to me was that he did all of the software installation and configuration as part of the deal. He knew that losing any Word files would be disastrous; his care meant that every data file I'd ever done on a PC remained accessible, something very important when I wrote my book, 21st Century Performance.
But I started doubting Paul's motives in palming off to me his old gear when in just one six month period, the 3.5 inch floppy drive, sound card and then - finally - hard drive all died of old age. Plus, Paul had long since moved interstate, making maintenance a bit difficult. Mmmmm, time to find a local supplier. Maybe a nearby computer shop?
Now I need to stress that I know absolutely nothing about hard drive gigabytes, clock speeds, RAM or any of that stuff. (The web production side of AutoSpeed is geographically, intellectually, culturally, socially and anthropologically separate from the editorial side of things!) And to be honest, the tech stuff of computers just doesn't interest me. I love reading but I don't know much about the printing presses on which books are produced; when I watch TV I don't want to know about the electron guns in the picture tube. So when I approached my local computer store, I was truly in their hands. They asked me what I used the machine for, then sold me another box (don't ask me what was in it). This one was quicker than the last (as the one before that had been before the one before that, etc), and didn't crash. Things were fine... ah yes, I do remember one thing about it - it had Windows 98 installed.
In this desultory time tale we're now up to last week. And last week I made a very silly decision.
"Mmmm," I said to my lady. "Windows ME is out now."
"What does that have on it?" she (an even greater computer illiterate) asked.
"Oh, new stuff - things like a better media player, and, er, other things. It's only a hundred bucks to upgrade from Windows 98," I added.
So, gentle IT-aware reader, brace yourself. Last Saturday I went off to The Officeworks and bought Windows ME. "For users of Windows 98," it said on the box. Yep, that's me, I thought.
Now perhaps I should background something before I go on. I normally collate the weekly AutoSpeed Performance News on Sunday night, ready for layout by the team in Melbourne and scheduled for the issue launched at midnight each Monday. The Newsletter I normally write on Sunday night or Monday morning - I like to have seen the whole issue proofed before I write about what's in it. All the other feature articles for the issue have been completed and laid out by this time - it's the News and Newsletter which are the late-coming 'uns.
And in all the 100 issues of AutoSpeed, we have never missed a content deadline.
Mmmm, so back to the PC story. It was Saturday at 3pm when I inserted the Windows ME disc into the CD tray. At 3pm plus 5 seconds, the system crashed.
The mouse was gone, and the screen was in low colour and low res. And nothing that I could do could change that. I loaded and unloaded Windows ME. I loaded and unloaded Windows 98. I bravely ventured into the Systems folder and found that the mouse had disappeared because a file called vmouse.vxd could not be loaded. The PC may as well have been telling me that its silicon chips had been cooked in too much oil for all the help that was to me.
I spent all of the rest of Saturday night trying to bumble my way to a fix.
Sunday morning I rang Boss Brendan - h-e-l-p! He directed me to our computer guru Ed, who - and I'm sure he was happy doing this without warning first thing Sunday morning - guided me through a huge number of potential fixes. Into DOS, out of DOS. Into Systems, out of Systems. And lots of other stuff which I didn't have any understanding of at all. Pity he was in Melbourne and I'm in Adelaide - and all of this was being done on the phone...
The computer remained sick - no mouse, no screen res.
That night I rang Paul. A single man, I figured that his luck was in (and mine out) when an attractive female voice answered the phone. Oh well - what was bloody more important here? I think he compromised - "I'll call you back in an hour," he said, and - rather breathlessly - he was back on the phone again an hour later.
It was now Sunday night, and the PC still had no mouse and a poor screen. By now I should have done the News and Newsletter, but nothing had been achieved. Paul's final comments were, "Do a de-frag and disc check, then try loading it all again." At 2 o'clock Monday morning I was still doing this....
Eight o'clock the next morning, after I'd had five hours sleep, Ed was on the phone again. "Got some potential fixes," he said. We spent even more hours trying different things, and I feel I wasn't at my best when typing in long lines of DOS as he dictated down the line. Why do I feel this? Let's just say that Ed's usually very relaxed voice sometimes developed a noticeable edge... But the end result was that zilch, zero and nothing was achieved.
It was time to take the computer back to the shop from which I had bought it. (Not much point in taking it back to Officeworks and complaining of the Windows ME, was there?). It is an enormously frustrating feeling when a deadline is racing past and you're bumbling around, trying to fix a computer that there is only one person to blame for its demise - you. I unplugged all of the cables from the box - wondering whether I'd ever be able to plug them back correctly even if the computer was fixed - and put the box into the boot of the Audi. I felt like throwing the car bodily around every roundabout on the way to the local shops - that would at least make me feel better - and when I saw the empty computer shop with the For Lease sign, I nearly did just that.
Oh shit - what now? Midday had now come and gone - with the daylight saving and longitudinal time difference, the issue was to be launched at 10.30 pm my time. So, giving the team in Melbourne enough time to do the layout, I had about 9 hours left. And remember, I hadn't even started either the News or Newsletter - a process that can take up to four hours. Aaaaagh! I grabbed the Yellow Pages - oh, what a great way of finding a trustworthy, informed, intelligent, able, professional, careful, and diligent person to whom I was to entrust my complete working tool... I mean, nothing like using a pin to pick, is there? I rang one company, explaining that my machine was being used for business and that a fix was absolutely urgent.
"Oh yair?" said the laconic voice. "Well, we can look at it on Wednesday...." Wednesday was about 50 hours too late. "You know, you've got to be careful loading new operating system software," he confided.
I bit back my "Thanks for nothing, jerk!" and asked if he could recommend another shop in the area.
It was now 1pm; time was happily fleeing past as I talked to morons....
"Oh, you could try Morphett Vale Computers," he said.
I found the number (08 8326 4591) in the Yellow Pages and called. I explained the situation, finding with abstract interest that my voice had now reached the stage of pleading. Yes, they could look at it immediately. No promises as to a fix, though - bring all of your software. All of it.
But y'see, I am moving house - and much of the software is buried in the forty or fifty cardboard boxes already packed...
Aaaaaagh.
I grabbed what I could and charged off to the store, noting in one part of my mind the grip and the power of the S4 when it's being driven very hard through urban roundabouts....
It looked like Mom and Pop store located in a lower socio-economic suburb. It looked that way because it was. Everywhere were posted signs, "No responsibility taken for lost data files". I felt stressed, exhausted (have I said that most of the previous week I was in bed with the flu?) and fatalistic. What was going to happen was going to happen - at least now it was all going to happen fast. The manager booted up my computer and started typing in stuff. What he was inputting I have no idea - not only would I have not understood it, but I was prevented from entering the back half of the shop by a white rope and a "Customers not past this point" sign. So all of my data was going to be lost while I spectatored from a distance. What would be, would be...
About half an hour later the Manager - from the business card on the counter, Garry Shuttleworth - had finished fiddling. There was apparently nothing for it but to wipe the C drive and start again. "And what data would you like kept?" he added casually. I went through the listing, remembering only at the last minute the 'in', 'deleted' and 'sent' email files.
"When do you want to see me again?" I asked.
"Oh, about Christmas," he replied - obviously a standing joke with customers. I bared my teeth at him (I think that 'smiling' is too positive a term) and he changed it rapidly to, "Give me a call about 3.30 pm."
At 3.30 I was on the phone, to be told that things were going smoothly and that I should come in. At 3.35 I was there (the Audi was getting faster and faster; never before has the LCD fuel consumption readout average 14 litres/100 kays for a single day....) but the software reload was still ongoing. Too tired to stand up in the shop, I strode straight past the white rope and slumped into a swivel desk chair positioned in the sacrosanct area. At 6 pm I was still slumped - Garry hadn't expected the Mail files to contain over 10,000 entries.... Darkness grew outside, the rest of the staff left... and I started wondering how much this was all going to cost.
They'd dropped their other customers to work on my machine and it was now 7 pm - hours past closing time. Mmmm, say $60 an hour... plus the inconvenience and the extended hours - perhaps $400? I'd brought my company chequebook - I didn't think that my credit card had enough dough left in it....
At just after seven o'clock, the software reload had finished. All my data files remained intact, the web worked, the mouse worked, the screen colours and res were fine.
Now for that bill.
"Ohhhhh..." said Garry, "how does $64 sound?"
I gaped wordlessly, then blurted out a positive.
Five minutes later I was running to the car; another 45 minutes later I was on-line and trying to collate the News. Boss Brendan was sitting in the Melbourne office, waiting for my emailed attachments - when they came, the layouts were very rapidly formed. At midnight Eastern Australian Daylight Saving Time, Issue #101 launched as normal - complete with the News, and with Newsletters being emailed out simultaneously.
So, if you feel like it, you might like to have another look at last week's News and Newsletter, and consider some of what went into getting that to you...
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