by CKR
Well, that was easy. I think. I’ve installed all my programs (applications?), set up my e-mail, and everything seems to be working. I’ve uploaded some photos from my camera. The 20-inch screen is lovely, and the computer is noticeably faster than the old one.
The 29 July Economist celebrates the twenty-fifth anniversary of the pc. But computers have come a longer way than that. I first learned to program on an IBM 650. No, not that one, the one before, the one with a magnetic drum memory. [Oh, dear, I do love the internet! That link is to Columbia University, whose IBM 650 was the one I programmed. SOAP (Symbolic Optimal Assembly Program, one step up from machine language) and all!]
Then I had a Tandy TRS-80. I was ahead of the crowd most of the time, you see. Green letters on a black background, no graphics. After using typewriters, word processing was a luxury: no errors! Losing the tactility of the typewriter was disappointing, no more keys or ball springing toward the paper to deposit a letter. I grew up with typewriters. My father was an IBM customer engineer, a guy who went to the offices to fix the typewriters. He developed his own business, and I became his first mechanic. Minimum wage at ten years old isn’t bad, let me tell you! I still have a couple of typewriters around, but I really miss his antique Blickensderfer. It was in a nice leather carrying case.
Anyhow, I then proceeded through Macs (preferred by my employer) to pcs (a necessary switch if I wanted to share Word files with my collaborators). Program installation was always a nightmare. I said “I think” above because I feel I must keep my fingers crossed. I can’t recall if it was the last computer or the one before, but the programs seemed to install only up to a point, and then the installation program got stuck. I removed the disk, rebooted, and the programs seemed to work, but I had an uneasy feeling the whole computer lifetime.
They’ve made the plugs simpler too (remember those ribbons of many, many wires and plugs of many, many pins?) and color-coded, so that you can get them right the first time. (Almost. There was an adapter for the monitor connection that I missed the first time around. Fortunately, the computer gave me a polite message that I had chosen the wrong option on the installation instructions.) And the programs install without fuss. Thank you, whoever did that.
Engineers have been improving the art of pouring liquids, too. Or it might have been someone with common sense.
The latest jug of maple syrup I bought has a nice red spout inside the cover, with a hole beside it. At first, I thought it was an airhole, but if you needed an airhole with that spout, you’d be wading in maple syrup. Then I realized: it’s like those spouts on detergent bottles.
Drips on bottles of liquids are like programs that don’t install properly. They require constant worrying and frequent cleaning up. We’ve been living with those inconveniences for a long time.
But in the past few years, a new design has appeared. The spout is inside the cover, with a well below it to catch the drips, and a hole to guide them back into the bottle. It’s mostly been on laundry products, but olive oil bottles are trying to catch up, and there is this lovely maple syrup jug. The maple syrup spout is made of plastic that maple syrup doesn’t wet. So the well and hole are almost superfluous, although as I use it, the spout does seem to be becoming more susceptible to gunking up.
Not all the laundry spouts work well. Some wells are too shallow, so the screw cap pushes the liquid up and over into drips. Sticking a knife through the well in a couple of places to allow better drainage seems to help.
So thanks to those who design computers and bottles. Every little bit of annoyance removed helps.
Photos from the nearby links.