When I was considering buying a Mac, I heard from everybody, and they all said the same two or three things. “You’ll love it,” they chorused. “It’s so intuitive.” The script never changed; it was almost creepy.
So when I got my big shiny iMac, I set it up (pull out of box: plug in) and sat in front of it, and waited for it to demonstrate some of its vaunted intuition. We stared at each other for a while. We were both very quiet. Sometimes it would snap a picture of me. I thought a truly intuitive machine would size me up and then rumble, “You look like a person who’d like to type a blog post. Let me show you around,” but it didn’t. It didn’t really know the first thing about me, which is that I do not like my picture taken.
At some point I recognized that the machine itself, contrary to popular wisdom, is not intuitive, but that I personally will find it easy to operate, because it would work just the way I think it should. My friends, in assuming I will have sound ideas, give me far more credit for clarity than I deserve. In fact, I have a very convoluted method of thinking that only works for me because I don’t much care if I get the right answer.
A while back, Dave watched in disbelief as I tried to put together one of those spatial-puzzle toys, something that was supposed to be a wooden cube when solved. I was at it for at least five minutes and making no headway at all. Finally he seized it from me and snapped it into place in three or four quick movements. “What were you doing,”–he was incredulous–“just banging it together until it came around?” Well, yeah. That was the plan.
It’s worse when I’m under some kind of stress, such as, for instance, when I’m running, an activity I used to loathe four times a week. I would run up the path on Terwilliger Boulevard, with its distance-markers every .2 mile, and try to distract myself from my wretchedness by calculating my miles per hour.
I’d pass by the marker that said “1.4 miles,” glance at my watch and attempt to come up with elapsed time, summon up the latitude and angle of the sun, and then, once I’d assembled a quorum of data, I would begin to calculate. I would wonder if this gazinta that, or if that gazinta this, and what goes on top and what goes on the bottom, and whether it was really kilometers after all, which would make me instantly over twice as fast, or maybe it’s half. If you listened carefully, you could hear me banging abacuses together in my brain. Ultimately I would conclude, as I finished the loop and bent over, huffing miserably, that I was running at a pace of 42.6 miles per hour, which I thought was pretty dang good. It would not occur to me for hours, if at all, that I may have introduced a flaw.
So this is the sort of logic that my new computer is expected to understand. The machines are, indeed, different in their approaches. Take the little issue of putting a document to bed. With my old PCs, I would ask if it could put my file away.
“This file here?” it would query. Yes.
“You want to put it away?” Yes.
“Hum. Hum. Hum. What do you want to call it?” Gosh, I don’t care. What do you suggest?
“We could take the first sentence and whack it down the middle and call it that. That would be a nice name. I just need something to sew in its underwear so it doesn’t get lost. Okay with you?” Sure, sure, whatever.
“So where do you want it?” I don’t know. Where do you suggest?
“We could put it here, here, here, or way over here where you don’t have anything at all. It’s all the same to me. I have a lovely little location in a cul-de-sac over here where it will be really, really safe. You’ll probably never find it again. Ha! Ha! Whaddya say?” Sure. As long as it’s safe.
“All righty then. Click click. Thump thump. Braaaaa-aaaaap. Gone!” Bring it back. I just thought of something.
“Okay. Where’d we put it?” Shit, I don’t know. You just had it.
“I’ve got a cute little search puppy. We could send him after it.”
The new Mac, on the other hand, has a different approach. You just take the document, pick it up by the scruff of the neck, and haul it over to where you want it to go. I will admit this is much simpler. But it is not intuitive. How was I expected to figure that out?
🙂 Wonderful. & I love the photo!
Praise Heaven that my computer doesn't take my picture. Let's just say I don't exactly get dressed up to sit in front of the thing. You'd see more than a scowl I fear.
My computer laughed and loved the idea that your computer was taking pictures of you. I now fear that my computer will start doing the same thing, at the times I least want it to.
Effing spacial puzzle toys, they exist to vex me.
I know, barb. Everything's an IQ test and I don't always do that well. And I discovered the button I'm hitting to get my picture tooken, so maybe I shall be able to exert some control.
Our daughter has a Mac, and each time we face the prospect of buying a new computer, she says–buy a Mac, buy a Mac.
Well, thus far we have bought two new computers (you know, one for me, one for my husband) and we have resisted the siren call.
Since I have PCs mostly figured out, why would I go and challenge my aging brain like that? If I want to challenge my brain, I'll do the Times crossword puzzle.
I sympathize.
How is an old graphic artist like me supposed to understand that "cut/paste" is now called "copy/paste"? Unless you install a browser that now calls it "cut/paste?"
And that copious tears could somehow mess up the electronics?
Um…yeah. Right. Intuitive means "taking pictures of its new owner moments after being switched on."
Jeez, YOU think I'M a good writer? Listen to the pot calling the kettle black. You have a rather engaging, humorous style…nay, infectious. I got a delightful mental image of files being grabbed by the scruff of the neck and dragged between USB drives and file folders.
Good writing (and photo, too).
Murr, Thank you for the comment on my blog. I like your style! I have not jumped into the world of MAC yet (mostly due to finiancial restraints), but I am fascinated with them. I play with my friends' MACs every chance I get!
I would like to follow your blog, and would appreciate if you would follow me. Thanks again!
~Ivy
I'm not sure why I strolled through some of my posts from recent past. But my efforts were rewarded by finding an unread note from you. Thank you.
I halfway…quarter-way understand my PC. Good Lord, I don't need anything new to scare me. I salute you for your bravery and for sitting through unintended photos. Does it really do that? I'm sure that there is a logical reason for it, but I can't figure it out.
I enjoyed this.
I used a Mac for a week or so at my daughter's place but decided to stick with Windows when it was time for a new computer. I didn't find the Mac particularly intuitive. I think Mac users buy into a certain cachet. Often, I think they trade in an old, clunky and cheap Windows machine for an expensive Mac. If they spent the same amount on a new Windows machine, I think they'd be just as pleased. But maybe I'm wrong. It happens frequently.
The mac lasts longer, /without/ accumulating a bunch of junk from old deleted programs that you don't know if you're allowed to delete. =)
The mac lasts longer, /without/ accumulating a bunch of junk from old deleted programs that you don't know if you're allowed to delete. =)
Murr, Thank you for the comment on my blog. I like your style! I have not jumped into the world of MAC yet (mostly due to finiancial restraints), but I am fascinated with them. I play with my friends' MACs every chance I get!
I would like to follow your blog, and would appreciate if you would follow me. Thanks again!
~Ivy