Expressions you don't want to hear:
-"Are you really going to wear that tonight?"
-"I don't mean to be an I-told-you-so, but…"
-"There's no easy way to say this…"
For me, a computer jockey, add "upgrade your system." "Upgrades" might be necessities — but so might colonoscopies be at times. You get the metaphor, right?
I'm a Mac user, and — at the risk of boasting — am quite proficient with it; being "the guy" others call when they can't get their own Macs to perform correctly. However, I've been using an operating system that's three versions outdated; basically, because one of my go-to apps isn't supported with the latest system and, although I'm willing to spend the money to buy the newest version of said app, it's no longer an option. Adobe has changed to subscription-based software.
If you are unfamiliar with that expression, add it to the above list. Instead of paying for a software license outright for one (ridiculously overpriced) fee, you fork out a (ridiculously overpriced) recurring subscription. Although the monthly charge is less, the overall price of the software is higher as the payment continues until Hell freezes over.
Conversely, two of my other go-to apps have now released improved versions which require the latest system to function at all. So, two apps beat one, and — since my eyes were dilated yesterday (unrelated story) and I couldn't work — I took the time to "upgrade" to the latest OS, a six-hour process made all the more pleasurable by having trouble focusing.
No Johnny-come-lately to computers, having worked with them since the late seventies, I knew to expect a few hiccoughs along the way; but what can I say? Hope springs eternal in an older man's breast.
After downloading all the latest updates, I, one by one, opened each of my more common apps, deciding to postpone the main one to the end. Photoshop, Word, Excel, and even Sim City, all went without a hitch. A few of my minor utilities went the way of all flesh, but no biggie. I decided to take the acid test and open the "Big One."
The icon bounced cheerily in the dock, showing it was loading. Status messages flew across the screen until — Voila! — the workspace appeared on my monitor with the menu bar welcoming me. Sing hallelujah; rejoice; praise the computer gods!
Alas, sadly 'twas a tease. Upon moving my mouse, a dialog box told me there was a "catastrophic license failure" (another expression to add to the list at the beginning of this column). Granted, "catastrophic license failure" seems a bit self-important and hyperbolic; I'll give you that, but – even though I kinda, sorta expected it – it sure felt that way.
My first reaction? Swear at the screen. "You're kidding me! Really?!" Sure, that helps. Next, panic. "I won't be able to work! My clients will leave me! I'll be living in a box on the streets!" Third, lump developers in a category with muggers, thieves, and the Mob.
Finally, rationality re-entered. "Scott, you knew this might happen. You were prepared for it. The software is ten years old; that's like a 150 in computer-years. Quitcher bellyachin' and get out your credit card."
Isn't it odd how often our default setting is "Indignant," "Angry," or "Fearful"? Putting it in perspective, this definitely falls in the category of a "first-world problem." I reminded myself that some folks don't have $20 a month for food, let alone software, and I'm going all cranky pants over the luxury of a new software license. That implies I have the money for a computer, internet, and a house in which to keep them. I'm fortunate.
This reminds me of another expression no one likes to hear, "Get over yourself." However, sometimes you need to hear what you don't want.
About the author: Scott "Q" Marcus coaches individuals and consults with companies on how to implement and handle change. He can be reached at scottq@scottqmarcus.com or his motivational Facebook page: Intentions Affirmations Manifestations.
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