For nearly twenty years I’ve desired my own copy of the Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd edition. I finally bought a copy of it, on CD-ROM. I excitedly ordered version 4.0, the latest version, from an online retailer, and my excitement grew as I was notified that the order had shipped earlier this week. The twin entities of anticipation and excitement grew even greater when I arrived home from my day job yesterday and found the delivery had arrived. I couldn’t wait to install it, but was patient and waited until this morning when, refreshed, I was ready to begin the installation procedure on my Windows laptop. I read the installation guide to confirm that my system met all the requirements as documented. I checked before placing the order, but this was an integrity check to verify that nothing had changed from the online requirements to the printed list in the manual.
The documented install process is as typical as any installation procedure: Put the CD-ROM media in the DVD/CD drive, let it autorun and click through the defaults. Only, for this CD-ROM, it was taking a long time to read the media. The drive was spinning and I could hear moments when the optical lens was reading the disc, but the only thing that was happening was the wait. I waited and waited. And then I continued to wait. We had a conversation. “Hi, Wait,” I said. “Why ‘hello’ Walter,” Wait replied and added with a sneer, “You’re going to have to wait.” I attempted to start up the Windows Task Manager with the three-finger salute, “Control-Alt-Delete,” but to no avail, the Task Manager was taking its merry time to appear on the screen. Wait had me in his grip as he snickered and winked with a sarcastic glance.
I told myself I can beat him at his game and waited patiently. There’s no need to get upset with technology, we’re practically married to it these days and though our modern tools can be frustrating at times when they don’t do what we expect of them, I reminded myself that the program and computer was simply doing what we have told it, or in this case “programmed” it, to do. It’s a dumb machine. The genius is in the programming that was executed by us, humans.
I was slightly agitated, but nearly twenty years of excitement still kept me cheerful, and besides, I wasn’t going to give up.
I performed four attempts to bring up a Windows Task Manager and they all merely resulted in four separate instances of the Windows Task Manager appearing in the Taskbar Tray to the lower right of the desktop. I couldn’t bring any of them up to allow me to view the processes and programs that were running. I felt I was being mocked. “This was ridiculous,” I thought, that the installation program could hose up the whole operating system. I restarted the computer with a hard reset by holding down the power button for a few seconds.
Back to square one.
The CD-ROM was inserted again, and anticipation was hard to contain as I continued to think back on nearly two decades of waiting for this moment. I once considered buying the Compact OED, the one with the magnifying glass, but knew it would keep me wanting with the manner of manual search required in that media. I desired the software version, but over the years had read that the GUI was clunky, and the primary strike against it was that it did not run on Mac, until this latest version. My twin companions, anticipation and excitement, were quickly dashed once again when I was faced with a repeat of the initial installation process I just fought with for the last 15 minutes! Reboot. Don’t pass “Go,” don’t collect $213. (The price I paid for the application)
Third attempt.
Before inserting the CD-ROM in the drive, I brought up the Windows Task Manager and killed a bunch of iTunes processes, like iTunes Helper and iPod Service, that I never use and knew would not harm the system if they were no longer running around. And, who knows, perhaps they were causing some problems with the installation. You know, with the on-going strained relationship between Apple and Microsoft that’s existed since the two companies began competing during the prehistoric age of personal computing. Also known as the late 70s and early 80s. I then re-inserted the CD-ROM and once again it took a long time to read the media, but alas, this time it did begin the installation.
Hurray! My excitement was back in the game and was now standing on the bleachers cheering the team’s first home run of the season.
No, I stated that incorrectly. It’s not been merely an affection, but more of a decades-long driving desire for the coveted material, akin to the maniacal pursuit of fuel in George Miller’s Mad Max film franchise. Eventually, the contents of the “Data Disc” installed, and I was prompted to reboot Windows, to which I obliged.
The next step in the process, as stated in the manual, was to start the successfully installed OED application from the Start Menu. It clearly states that upon first running the application, it requires that the “Install Disc” be in the CD-ROM drive so that the installation program can perform the final step in the process, “Secure ROM” authentication. Fine by me, just let me get to the ultimate writer’s reference.
Windows restarted and I logged on. I was happy to see that an icon had installed itself on my desktop as a shortcut to start the OED application. Before clicking on this I inserted the first CD-ROM, the “Install Disc,” into the drive as instructed by the manual. I then checked the Start Menu in Windows Explorer to see if the program was put into the menu for “All Users.” This is important to me since I share my laptop with my spouse and we, of course, have separate accounts. Our accounts are “limited,” in terms of access rights and installation of software applications, and that’s the way I like it. A typical practice for me is to create an “Administrator” account on my computer systems that is used for system and application backups, adding users, and installing new software. Therefore, I was installing the OED with the “Administrator” account. I was surprised and disappointed that the OED program was no where to be found in the Start Menu for “All Users.” I scrolled up in the Windows Explorer window and found it under the Start Menu for “Administrator.” This means that only the “Adminstrator” account would be allowed to use the OED. Another strike, Oxford. Disappointment is building.
The problem, you see, is with licensing. Even though companies state that you are allowed to install the software on a single system, it’s not always completely true when you get down to brass tacks. As I mentioned, on my system I have three accounts: an Administrator with administrator privileges to install applications and perform essential system maintenance, and two user accounts with limited access privileges and no rights to install applications. That’s how I like to configure my computers. It goes back to the days I was a Unix Systems Administrator. You don’t use “root” as a standard user account. The user accounts, one for me and the other for my spouse, should be able to run any programs that the Administrator has installed on the system. At least in theory. Unfortunately, that ideal doesn’t always translate well into the real world where the rubber meets the road, or in this case where the bits and bytes meet the hard disk. The problem is that installing the OED with the Administrator account only allows the Administrator to access the program. This was apparent to me when I noticed in Windows Explorer that the OED was only available in the “Start Menu” for the “Administrator “account, and not in the “Start Menu” for “All Users.” I know this situation well and have encountered this beast and its spawn numerous times. Once with Movie Magic Screenwriter, and another time with DramaticaPro. To conquer the beast I have to log in as “Administrator” and under the User Accounts section of the Control Panel grant “administrator” privileges to my personal user account. I then log in with my personal account and install the software. Finally, I log in as “Administrator” and reset my personal account to be “limited” once again to ensure some security with the account accidentally performing an action that is harmful to the system and other accounts. Unfortunately, with this installation limitation the only account that is able to use the application is my personal user account. For the screenwriting applications, it’s not a big deal, as I’m the only one that uses them. But for something like the OED, it’s agonizing that only one account is able to access and use this wonderful resource. I’ll have to log in with “Walter, His Own Self” if my spouse wants to browse the OED. Why must it be this way? Now, I’ve logged in as “Administrator” and granted administration rights to my “Walter, His Own Self” account, logged out and logged in with my newly entitled personal user account. I’m going through the installation procedure again with my personal account and it’s the same story. Same rules. Same game. Disappointment, disappointment. Did I mention that disappointment arrived to kick anticipation and excitement’s asses?
At this point absurdity took over. I kept reminding myself, “it’s not the computer, it’s not the media, it’s not even Oxford University Press.” My next thought was, “It’s me!” Anticipation has left the bleachers and is on its way home in a rusted out 1970s Cadillac Coupe de Ville spewing clouds of carbon monoxide. And what of excitement? He’s been hit with a fistful of mud because it was two outs, two strikes and all the bases were loaded. We could have taken home the victory pennant with a home run hit into the stands, but our hopes were quickly dashed as the opposing team drove our boys into the ground with a stunning 9th inning upset. This ordeal was suddenly turning into the quest for the Holy Grail of the English language, only I was not allowed to play the role of one of King Arthur Pendragon’s Knights of the Round Table. Hell, I’m not even permitted the honor of a 2nd-rate page who was allowed to sit at the Servants’ Termite-Eaten Oblong Bench. I’m the traveling bard who, through circumstances beyond my control, arrived at the banquet late, and during my performance I realized that the King’s audience wasn’t laughing at my act, but was laughing at me. Where’s that Fisher King? I want to strangle his ass about now! Reading reviews of the product, I’ve discovered that Mac users have not encountered absurd difficulties with the installation. I’m (primarily) a Mac, but do use a Windows laptop for writing so that I can take my writing desk anywhere. It’s also there for the 10% of the time when I must run some application that’s not available (yet) on the Mac. So I’m installing the OED on our iMac. I’m sure I won’t have issues with the installation, or with multiple users accessing the application. It will be in the “Applications” folder and all any users must do is drag the application icon over to the Dock. Simplicity. Beauty. That’s what our tools should be like. There’s a reason the hammer has remained in the form it has for thousands of years. A hammer is a hammer, and it will always be a hammer. Subsequently, it’s not me. These tools are simply behaving in the manner we had decided they behave in. It really shouldn’t surprise us when it appears they are doing otherwise.
Let’s see now, it’s time to read the OED’s installation requirements for a Mac.
512MB of RAM.
Check!
1Gb free hard disk space.
Check!
Minimum monitor capability: 1024 x 768.
Check!
Local CD-ROM/DVD drive.
Check!
Intel Core Duo™ 2.13GHz or faster processor.
Check!
Check!
Oh wait, what did I just see?
Did I see that listed in the requirements?
No.
By now my twins, anticipation and excitement, are no longer in the stands. They’ve been dragged beneath the bleachers by disappointment and he and a fan of the opposing team have beaten them to a pulp.
Well, I feel as if it’s always crap shoot with software installation.
By the gods! I’m still the buffoon in the center of the King’s stage, taking a beating from technology!
Freelance writers have so few companions to support them!
Comments [0]