"Temporarily Out of Service"

At what point does it become more trouble than it's worth to own a computer? Or several? This is the question I've been asking myself after a rather hellish string of failures. In the space of a single week, my main computer checked out, my Sony CLIE fizzled, and my office Thinkpad came down with a bad case of Adware. In the process of restoring from these failures, I came dangerously close to the point of fundamentally questioning whether the investment of money, time and energy I put into these machines is really paying a worthwhile dividend.

Now consider. I have been a computer enthusiast for as long as I can remember. I have programmed computers for my entire adult life and my whole professional career. Not only do I have a lot of knowledge and experience regarding how to work around computer difficulties, I have also gained a certain level of immunity from computer frustration. Plus, I am fanatical about keeping my data backed up (and so far this week, I haven't lost any data), so I don't have any anxiety and frustration around that. But even with these provisions in place, the past week has been really trying. What do ordinary people do when they're faced with these issues?

I'm starting to think they just grin and bear it, until they can't take it anymore, and then they just bail. My father was so frustrated by the internet, for example, that he permanently disconnected from it, deciding that email and the web weren't worth the hassle of spam, viruses and pop-ups. He hasn't bailed on computers entirely, but I know that he is constantly experiencing inexplicable failures and weird behavior with his applications. He asks me about them –- a lot -– but he uses obscure programs which I am not familiar with (like Serif), and I rarely get a chance to sit down with him at his computer to see the behavior, so I can't help him much.

Another couple of friends of mine, after valiantly trying to make do in the Windows world, have decided to bail into the Macintosh world. Macs seem to cost more upfront, but apparently they are happier and less frustrated now. That's not really an option for me, not yet, but who knows? A couple more weeks like this one, and I might be tempted.

I thought my friends and my father were just outliers. I'm beginning to wonder about that now.

So what was my week like?

First to fail, naturally, was my main computer, the one I do most of my work at home with. I have a real love/hate relationship with this laptop, which I bought back in August 2004. When it works, it works great. It's fast, it's powerful, and it's very pretty. The trouble is that in the six months I've owned this machine, I have brought it back to the shop to be serviced four times, and it's been in the shop for a total of about a full month. The last time I brought it in, it was because I had plugged a USB device into the computer, only to watch it turn off like a light bulb. (No blue screen, no restarts, just –- pffft! -- dead.) It took the manufacturer a month to decide it wasn't worth repairing the motherboard, so they just sent me a new machine. This time, I plugged a USB device –- not the same device! -- into the computer, and promptly lost the use of all my USB ports. Granted, that's better, and less panic-inducing, than simply checking out, so that's an improvement. But it still puts a crimp in my ability to use the computer, because now I can't print, I can't use my mouse, I can't Hotsync. I couldn't even use the built-in flash card readers, because they're USB devices internally. So now, for the fourth time, I brought this computer down to the service department (which is an hour's drive from my home), to be fixed or replaced by, oh who knows? Let's just say, at some unknown date in the future. Maybe in another couple of weeks. When I complained to the service manager about the level of reliability of this machine, this is what he actually said:

"If you were to come into the store today, I would refuse sale of this machine to you. This machine is pressing the envelope of what's really possible in a laptop. You're the sort of customer that falls in love with the specs, and you don't have a realistic expectation of how reliable these machines really are."

See? I'm just being unrealistic. It's clearly unreasonable of me to pay $2500 for a computer and expect better than 80% uptime. It's just absurd of me to expect that when I plug a USB device into my computer, the machine continues to run. Who ever heard of such a thing?

It will probably take another two, or possibly three or four weeks for this machine to be replaced. They were nice enough to remove the main drive and put it into a nice USB drive enclosure for me, so I'm able to keep working. In the meantime, I've renamed this machine to "Hangar Queen". Fortunately, it's still under warranty, so it's only costing me a boatload of my time, and I have the last laptop I bought from these people, which is still running like a champ. (Ironically, I bought the new machine because I'd had such a good experience with this last computer.)

A couple of days after this failure, I put my handheld (a CLIE NX-70V) into its cradle to Hotsync with my work computer. Now this is something I have literally done about 500 times before without any trouble at all. This time, my CLIE decided to check out. In a fashion eerily similar to the experience I had with the laptop, this machine's screen went black, and it simply stopped working. It wouldn't react to a hard reset or any other action I could think of.

Well, I can make do without my laptop, especially since we have other computers in the house, but I was really put out by losing my handheld. I've had a Palm of some type ever since 1996, and I've got practically my entire life encoded on the thing. (Ever since my car got jacked in '95, with my Day-Timer in the trunk, I knew I needed a way to keep my data safe, and the original Palm Pilot fit the bill. Since then, I was hooked.) I didn't lose my Address Book, my Calendar, or my legendary To-Do List: I've got it all backed up Nine Ways To Tuesday. But I couldn't carry it with me without the CLIE.

I don't know if it was because of my computer dying earlier in the week, or because Sony has discontinued their whole PDA line, but I kind of panicked. Since they're no longer available in stores, I got on to eBay and immediately bought a replacement CLIE. This was the NX-70's big brother, the CLIE NX-80V, but I wasn't going to have it for another few days. Like I said, I was in a bit of a panic. I went down to the local Staples and I bought a brand-new Palm Tungsten T5.

"You did what?" said my wife. "We're about to have a baby, and I've been working hard for the past six months to save money on all the baby gear we have to buy, and you go and blow almost a grand on two new PDAs? I'm OK with you getting one to replace the one that broke. I know how much you rely on that thing. But two? No. You have to return one of them – and get the money back."

Well, that's what my wife would say if we were living in TV Land.

In real life, where my wife's understanding and patience are truly astounding, she said she would really, really like it if I would return one of the two units and get the money back. I told her that I would take a few days, try them both out, and let her know. So I spent about five hours laboriously reconstructing my life on the Tungsten, restoring files and settings from my backups, reinstalling software, and ensuring that everything was safe (It's about a 20-step process. I know that because I'm thorough. But it wasn't conceptually hard, just tedious). Then I spent a couple of days living my life out of the Tungsten, to see if I liked it. And so, when the CLIE arrived, I wasn't sure I wanted to try it. Suppose it was better than the Tungsten? Then I'd have wasted my time, and I'd have to go through the exercise of migrating my data all over again.

In the end, of course, that's what I did. I found a lot to like about the Tungsten, but in the end, I had to bring it back. It's a marvelous machine, but there's not much it does better than the CLIE, and the CLIE does quite a few things better than the Tungsten. Like, it has a camera. And a voice recorder. And Wi-Fi. And it's faster, even though it's running a "slower" processor. And I had all these CLIE peripherals around already. And I could put the CLIE into a real cradle. One thing the Tungsten had over the CLIE was that the newer OS5 apps were more polished, and did a few minor things better than the CLIE's versions. In the end, this didn't outweigh the value of the CLIE.

So now I had one new live CLIE, and I had one old dead CLIE, and I had just returned the Tungsten, and I was searching on the net for any information about CLIEs dying the way mine had a week ago. And just by accident, I found an article which recommended a procedure I hadn't tried before; in fact, I had never heard of it before: an "In-Cradle Reset". Since I had nothing to lose, I tried it on my old CLIE, and what do you know? It came up just fine. After all that time and money...

Finally, this past weekend. After all my computer woes, I was looking forward to a nice quiet weekend without any major failures. That's when my wife said:

"Honey? Can I surf the web using your work laptop?"

Isn't there a joke that starts this way?

I didn't think twice about it. What could go wrong? My wife is not a novice computer user. She knows her way around a machine and around the net. She reads the news and her favorite blogs.

So why, after only a few minutes of my wife's surfing, was my work machine crawling with popups, adware, and spyware?

When she asked me about it, I was surprised. I wasn't getting any pop-ups or spyware before my wife started surfing. "What did you do?" I asked her, perhaps with a little bit too much of an accusatory tone to my voice.

"Nothing! I was just surfing."

"With what browser?"

"Internet Explorer."

That told me pretty much everything I needed to know. See, I don't use IE on my work machine, except to access a few inhouse applications. For general web surfing on my work machine, I only use Firefox, and I manage the security on Firefox pretty well. Unfortunately, because I only use IE inside a well-protected network firewall, I don't manage the security there so well, and apparently it only takes a few minutes of surfing before malicious programs take advantage of a poorly-secured instance of IE, and my machine was badly infected. The adware had burrowed deep into the guts of Windows, and IE pop-ups were appearing even when I used Firefox to browse to a site!

The infestation proved to be very hardy and difficult to remove. When I used Spybot – Search and Destroy to clean out the infections, they managed to reinstall themselves by the next reboot. They were hardy little devils. When I used msconfig to disable Startup items which might be reinstalling these applications, I noticed that they were adding themselves back to the startup list! ("Who writes these things?" my wife asked. It's a good question.) A little bit of detective work actually yielded two Spyware items which had installed themselves just like normal applications, with their own folders, their own start menu entries, even their own uninstallers. One had a text file explaining itself:

"You downloaded Preview AdService from a Website that is able to offer its content for free because it shows the Preview AdService ActiveX popup. The Preview AdService program is installed only once the user has agreed on it by clicking on 'yes'. Through the ActiveX, the user can review the license terms and privacy policy before installing the software. Each and every distributor is carefully reviewed to make sure that their distribution techniques abide by a strict code of conduct."

See, that's total bullshit.

"I never downloaded anything or clicked on any license agreement," my wife told me, and I believe her. It's my work machine -– she wouldn't download anything on it. "All I did was surf to some sites and read."

It took me a while longer to finish fixing the problems with the pop-ups. In the end, I had to manually delete files from the Windows\System32 directory, which I do not recommend for the faint of heart. I kind of think I overdid it, in fact, because now I seem to be unable to connect to my company's VPN from home. However, otherwise, my work computer seems to be fine, which is a good thing, and the pop-ups have not afflicted it since. Total cost to me: practically the whole weekend. And I still wish I understood what I was doing better.

All three of these little tales of computer woe, different as they are, have a few things in common. In each case, a very large failure occurs for poorly understood reasons, each failure is followed by a tedious restoration to the status quo, and in each case, there is no good reason to expect that it won't happen again -- without warning.

People do not get a kick out of maintaining their computers. They do not derive enjoyment and life value from backing up, troubleshooting, and restoring their computers. They derive enjoyment and value from having access to their applications and data. When a computer fails, it often marks a profound downward shift in the value it represents to the owner. When the owner is someone like me, who has the time, patience, knowledge, experience, and cash to solve the problems, that's one thing. I'm just put out by my computers. But I think computers have gotten both so complex and so fragile, in such a short period of time, that nonspecialists have no good recourse when their machines fail. They either replace the machines –- if they can afford to -– or they simply stop using the machines. In either case, they usually lose whatever data they had on their machines.

A machine which is not reliable and unobtrusive, which calls attention to itself, which requires undue amounts of bother and care just to stay stable, is not a machine which is creating value. When snarky technicians claim that I'm being unreasonable for demanding an entirely appropriate level of service, they're not helping the problem.

I'm not sure what it is about my computers I fear more: their unreliability or their opacity. If I could count on my computers more, I wouldn't care so that they're black boxes. On the other hand, if I could understand my computer better, I wouldn't fear their failures so much. But I doubt I'm going to get either wish. The way we build computers, and the software that runs them, seems only to head in the direction of increased complexity, meaning increasingly unstable and insecure systems, exposing fewer clues about their inner state to the user. I wonder whether this will reach a point where it starts to turn off ordinary users, and whether they will turn away from what they view –- correctly, in my judgement -- as a hostile technology. I wonder whether that's already occurring. It almost happened to me this past week.