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Monday, August 26, 2002

OK, my wish for the day: that the people who design electronic equipment would be mandated to spend at least six months sitting in a locked room being hammered with the basic principles of usability/interface design. Or failing that, that they'd all just DIE DIE DIE.

Because they have caused me endless private aggravation and now public humiliation.

See, I finally took VCR #1 down to the good folks at East Lake TV/VCR Repair. (They are good folks in my book because once before, when I had a tape stuck in the machine, the guy whipped off the cover, extracted the tape, gave me a quick tutorial in how to handle such situations, did a little cleaning-up as long as he was in there, put the cover back on, and didn't charge me a dime. Whatta sweetie.)

Now this time, ever since I'd unhooked the VCR from the TV to move it to the computer, and then tried to reconnect it to the TV, it had been alternating between blue screen and short blasts of heavily distorted video. I had tried going through every option in the set-up menu; I'd pushed all the buttons on the remote, and then on the machine face; I'd changed around connections and cables in every possible configuration; I'd tried the "unhook everything, mutter anathema over the machine while making strange mystic gestures, reconnect and try again" method; nada. I explained this to the guy, and he took one look at the machine, asked "What channel do you have your TV on?" and when I said "Three," gently pointed out to me that the switch on the back of the VCR was set at four.

I said "Switch?? What switch??" He pointed it out to me -- a little teeny eeny bitsy switch, set right next to the stobs where the RF in and out cables connect, so that in the process of loosening/tightening the screw connection on the cables, one can hardly avoid nudging the goddamned thing with a finger.

And you know something -- even with my extra-magnifying close-focus glasses on, and a strong flashlight trained directly on the switch from a distance of two inches, I can just barely make out that one setting says "Ch 3" and the other says "Ch 4." But I guess that's how they gotta do it, eh? Because clearly putting that information in something other than 4-point black-on-black lettering would detract from the sleek design styling of the thing. (Which is so very important when it's on the freakin' back of the machine.)

But this is what I've noticed over and over in my recent adventures in hooking up electronics equipment; there seems to be absolutely no thought whatsoever given to making it easy (or even possible) for people to use the damn things. This goes way beyond badly-written manuals and so on; I'm talking about the fundamental idiocy of labelling all inputs/outputs in tiny raised black lettering on a black background, for example.

Granted I'm a dope when it comes to electronics, but I'm probably less of a dope than your average VCR user. I mean, lord knows what it must be like for an elderly person with worse eyesight than me, and a higher level of anxiety about plugging and unplugging stuff.

The repair guy was extremely kind; he did not point at me and guffaw, as he'd have had every right to do. I hauled the machine home, rehooked it yet again, rechecked the eentsy teensy switch (with aid of strong flashlight), and turned the thing on. Works like a dream. I am such an idiot; but by god, so are the design staff at Sony, and they're getting paid to do this stuff.

Posted @ 07:15 PM CST [Link]6 comments

Sunday, August 25, 2002

The last night of my summer vacation. And oh man, am I bummed.

I knew I shouldn't have typed in all that bliss-ninny crap a couple of weeks ago about how I'd gotten past my low moods. But back then I was still in full denial mode of "Hey, I can still get all kinds of stuff accomplished! Because I have so much time still!"

Well, time's up, I'm looking at my list of the gazillion things I planned to accomplish over the last six weeks, and I'm frantically thinking -- rewind! REWIND, dammit! But no. The moving finger writes, and having writ, etc. etc.

Even without the massive list of stuff-I-did-not-get-done to brood over, end of summer vacation is always a bad time. Nothing like it to make me channel my inner twelve-year-old, the wretched kid who felt, at the approach of school starting, as an escapee might feel being hauled back to Sing Sing.

And both my VCRs have developed mysterious malfunctions; and even though Carol told me "When you use Premiere, save often," did I listen to her excellent advice? oh hell no, so I lost a big wad of clips I'd captured; and I never did finish my con report and would feel like an idiot posting blither about an event a week old; and I am going into my third or fourth year of failing to do anything to get my broken-down junker car hauled out of my garage; and I never did go in to unpack my office after the move, so not only do I have back-to-back-to-back student appointments tomorrow, but also everything I need for work, up to and including pens and paper clips, is in boxes still; and god-damned tech services still hasn't installed my new computer, which they were going to do in July; and let's not even get started on the God. Damned. story, which I am about ready to burn, and . . .

OK, shutting up now. Going to bed, all snivelly and petulant and morose. Will endeavor to slap some sense into self in the morning.

Posted @ 09:29 PM CST [Link]5 comments