about this web log
Some things I know; others I guess; the rest I make up.

Richard C. Conner, P.E.

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Mac vs Windows: Enjoying your Windows computer

I am a big fan of Sony cameras going all the way back to the Mavica (and its horrible floppy disk drive). I just bought a new one (model DSC-H5) in preparation for an overseas vacation. In reading the instructions (well, OK, just skimming them), I found the following heading for the section that describes how to connect the camera to a computer:

• The Windows user requires external instruction in how to enjoy his computer (presumbably because this isn't self-evident), while the Mac user must be grasped by the arm and told how to use his computer (i.e., stop playing with the swelling dock icons and do something useful with it).
• The manual writers at Sony had to hold out the promise of enjoyment to the Windows user as an inducement to get him to go through the lengthy setup procedure for the Sony software.
• While the Windows users are assiduously following the instructions on how to enjoy themselves, we Mac users (being intuitive and creative types) are already pulling our first choice shots off the memory stick and into Photoshop.

I might feel slighted because the CD-ROM supplied with the camera contains nothing at all of use to Mac users, were it not for the fact that new Macs already have all the software required (iPhoto, GraphicConverter) to get images off the camera, and to organize and edit them. No new USB drivers or software apps are required.

posted 22:22 Thu, 06 Jul 2006
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"Have you ever been here before?"

I really don't care for chain restaurants. Whenever I'm traveling on business (which turns out to be quite a lot just now), I paradoxically tend to feel more at home in a neighborhood joint I've never heard of, than in a local branch of some Humongous Food Chain.

It isn't that the food is bad at chain restaurants -- likely as not, it is just fine (or at least not septic) -- its rather the tense and creepy atmosphere, some sort of admixture of deja-vu (on my part) and smugness (on the part of the staff). It can all be summed up in a question that the wait staff in such places seems to be trained to ask:

Some meathead corporate MBA somewhare probably got himself a corner office for dreaming up this bit of locution. As for me, I'm at a complete loss to know what the purpose of such a question is other than to put the poor customer completely on the defensive.

Are you supposed to say "no" and thereby endure a 20-minute review of the T.J. Fuddleberry's Mission Statement? Should you lie and say "yes" and thereby miss out on the critical instructions to remove your necktie lest the chef cut it off with his butcher knife? Is "yes, I've been here before" the appropriate response if you haven't been to this particular shop, but you have been to another one three exits up the Interstate?

Tonight, I dined at a branch of an upscale restaurant chain, whose name I won't mention here (well, OK, I'll give a link to them). Over comes the waiter with a tray full of condiments and The Inevitable Question. I answered "yes" to cut him off, but he continued anyway; rather than leave the stuff on the table for me, he insisted on asking how I would like "our special sauce" prepared. Jeez, folks, it's just chili paste, sesame oil, and soy sauce -- I think I can manage. God, if I'd let him keep going, I imagine he'd have brought over a coloring book, one crayon, and a bib.

Here are some random responses I've worked up for the next time I'm asked this question (although I'm far too chickenhearted to actually use any of them):

• No, I'm so sorry, please forgive me.
• No, and I'm not even here right now.
• No, my lawyers told me to stay out pending the litigation.
• No, but I'm too far away from a good place to eat.
• No, I couldn't bring myself to come in here before now because my grandma was violently murdered in front of one of these places.
• No, I haven't been able to get on the work-release program until now.
• No, but I think I understand the protocol: I pick out some items from this menu, you bring them to me, I eat them, then I pay you. That about right?"

Or, to take the affirmative:

• Yes, I've been here before, have you?
• Yes, I was the dine-and-dash last Tuesday.
• Yes, the health department gives me a good expense account.

posted 21:41 Wed, 26 Apr 2006
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Please no talking when the blue light is on.

There are a lot of people around these parts who are now wearing headsets for their cell phones. And no, not the small, discreet wired jobs, but the big ovoid Bluetooth-powered wireless ear leeches that look like something that The Borg tried to pop-rivet onto Jean-Luc Picard.

Yes, I suppose that wireless headsets are probably safer than wired ones (no wires to snag, although one wonders about the offsetting danger from "junk band" UHF radio waves being drilled into one's brain), and the fact that these things are big and garish may actually serve a useful purpose (as we'll see). Yet, these things somehow disturb me at a rather visceral level, and I'm not the only one. I've figured out that this may be due to uncertainty as to how to act around people wearing these things -- that is, the lack of a protocol.

Back before Alex Bell's invention in the 1870s, if you saw someone standing off to himself, talking animatedly to no one in the vicinity (with occasional pauses as if hearing replies), you would have been fully justified in calling for the net to be dropped forthwith on that spot. Nowadays, however, we've all learned to relax in the presence of such behavior as long as we see the person holding a chunk of plastic up to the side of his face. Even now, when the chunk of plastic has lost its tethering wires and has shrunk to a size barely larger than the hand that holds it, we still know that we should leave the chattering person in peace unless we have some really important reason to interrupt his call (such as to tell him that he's just yelled out his Amex account number to everyone on the train). In other words, we've worked out a protocol for dealing with people using the telephone, a protocol that's worked pretty darned well up to now even in the mobile age.

Consider, then, the guy who's wearing one of those Bluetooth doohickeys on his ear. He's standing nearby talking and staring into space. Is he talking to you? Is he talking to the woman next to him? Is he talking to the cashier in front of him? Is he talking to mothership? Who knows? Are you allowed to talk to him? Can't say for sure. With both of his hands free and unecumbered to scan the WSJ or thumb-type stuff into his Crackberry, he gives us no clue.

As it happens, most of these devices have little blinking lights on them, and the color and blink rate of the lights can tell other folks what's going on (but not the guy wearing the gizmo, he can't see the lights). Here is a bit of the manual for one of these devices, explaining the signaling scheme.

Great! Problem solved! All we have to do is carry around about 20 reference charts, figure out which one to use, and then we can determine that he's actually on a call and is not to be disturbed -- unless perhaps we see that he's about to walk in front of a moving bus.

More to follow...

posted 23:53 Fri, 21 Apr 2006
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