language you understand. If you’re a businessman shopping for a
word-processing computer, a good salesman can tell you how many
double-spaced pages each of your floppy disks will be able to hold. Of
course, ideally, you’ll walk into the store knowing the basics of
computers. But there are bound to be gaps in your knowledge somewhere
along the line; even writers for computer magazines argue with each
other over some supposedly clear-cut technical matters.
EIGHT
Can anyone go with you to the store, especially on the day when you want
to firm up the purchase?
You may at least enjoy a psychological advantage over the sales rep if
there are two of you asking well-coordinated questions.
Who should accompany you? Perhaps the person in your office who would
use the machine the most; what better source of questions for the sales
rep? Obviously, too, it’s good labor relations. Employees who helped
choose a machine will be less likely to complain about screens or
keyboards.
NINE
What programs will do the jobs you need done?
Don’t just consider costs of the programs; consider their costs versus
the cost of _not_ owning particular ones.
I don’t regret spending $250 for a word-processing program to replace
the cumbersome software with which my machine came. With the “free”
program it would have taken perhaps 40 percent longer to write this
book.
TEN
How easy are the programs to learn? How easy are they to use? Some of
the easiest to learn are the hardest to _use_.
ELEVEN
Do the programs include good instruction manuals? You still may want
them if they don’t—as long as you can buy readable books about them.
TWELVE
What machines will run those programs? And how well will they run them?
Take WordStar. Many machines can run this popular word-processing
program; but not all will let you use the cursor keys—the arrowlike
ones—to move from place to place on your screen. With some computers you
must simultaneously tap on two keys, not just one, to move the arrow.
You could have WordStar customized for your machine; but why not instead
buy a computer that works well with it from the start?
You also want to consider the operating system that a machine uses. By
now, the most widely used operating system is MS-DOS, which has become a
de facto standard because of IBM’s endorsement of it. It has supplanted
CP/M. Rival machines may not run _every_ program that the IBM computers
can. Some, like the Compaq portable, come close. But if a computer
exactly duplicated all the IBM’s functions, Big Blue’s legal staff would
crush the maker.
The widely used Apples have their own operating systems—one for the
Apple II series and another for the Macintosh.
There’s also UNIX. Ma Bell developed it originally, AT&T Information
Systems now supports it, and Microsoft sells a microcomputer version
called XENIX. The gurus say UNIX could be the operation system of the
future. With it programmers can more easily write software for machines
of different brands and sizes and “port” their programs from one
computer to another. UNIX may also be good for micros with many people
using them at once. The negative is that the nonexperts sometimes have
more trouble using UNIX than they do good ole CP/M and MS-DOS.
So much for the mainstream and soon-to-be-mainstream formats. What,
however, if the program you need comes only in an oddball one? Think
hard. Do you need this software—hence, this computer—immediately? Or can
you wait until the wonderful program or an equivalent is available for
other machines?
By the way, the word “format” doesn’t refer just to the general style
like CP/M or MS-DOS. It can also mean specific machines within CP/M and
so on. Different makes of CP/M-style computers, for instance, may not
read each other’s disks because their exact formats are different.
THIRTEEN
Is the machine 8 bits or 16 bits; and how big is the random-access
memory? Remember, 8 bits may be fine for word processing and light-duty
accounting, but 16 bits might be better for complicated spreadsheets and
is a definite advantage in data-base applications.
At the very least in the business world, you want 64K of RAM for word
processing and 256K or even more for intimidating calculations.
You may find that a micro just isn’t powerful enough to handle a mailing
list in the tens of thousands or process the payroll of Exxon. They’d be
uses fit for a mainframe or at least a mini.
FOURTEEN
What about =mass storage=—in other words, devices like disk drives? Can
they hold enough information for your business?
If you need to juggle around great masses of material in a hurry, you
may want a hard disk, which is more expensive than the floppies.
Remember—one character equals one byte and you can squeeze most numbers
into one or two bytes. Estimate your needs by calculating how many pages
by how many bytes per page, etc., then double your result to allow for
growth and the unforeseen.
Don’t just consider storage capacity. Think about the ease of making
electronic copies of information you squeeze into your computer. A hard
disk capable of holding the equivalent of five thousand typewriter pages
is nice. But you still must contend with floppies for backup if the hard
disk fails. You must either make backup copies as you go along or else,
every so often, hold a long, tedious copying session.
Fortunately, the price of hard disks is dropping quickly enough that in
the future you might be able to afford a second hard disk to back up the
one in the machine. Some micros can back up on a standard videocassette
recorder—a good four-hour tape will hold 100 megabytes. Besides,
there’ll eventually be cheap, reliable, roomy memories without any
moving parts.
Even then, however, you’ll still want copies of some kind, especially if
failures would zap thousands of pages of hard-won information.
FIFTEEN
Must your computer system accommodate more than one user? Will it work
well with people tapping into it from different terminals—those machines
with the keyboard and screens but little or no computing power of their
own?
Computer makers ballyhoo many micro systems as being “multiuser,” but
often there are hitches.
These machines may let one person do accounting and the other do word
processing at once but might not allow two people to run the accounting
program simultaneously. And what about data bases and electronic file
cabinets? Can more than one person simultaneously update inventory
records, for instance? And will the computer slow down much if too many
people use it at once?
Still, properly chosen, a multiuser system is a great way to share
information with many people and not have to jockey floppy disks around
all the time. Then there’s the cost. A multiuser system for twenty or
thirty persons may cost less than half of what individual desktop
computers _might_.
Instead of a multiuser system, however, you might still go with
full-blown computers—but _network_ them.
Networking is basically what it sounds: tying together machines to help
them share letters, reports, data bases, and other electronic files.
(See Chapter 13, “Net Gain$,” for a fuller explanation.)
SIXTEEN
Can you expand your computer system without difficulty, adding more
storage, for instance, or devices like a modem to help you communicate
over the phone lines?
SEVENTEEN
Will the sales rep show you that the computer will work well with the
printer or other accessories you have in mind?
He or she might not be able to demonstrate this compatibility, simply
because he doesn’t have the peripherals in stock; but you should at
least obtain a clear written promise saying that everything will work
_well_ together. Be sure that his obligation to make it work is clear
_before_ you sign the check.
The same idea naturally applies to software.
EIGHTEEN
How clear is the computer’s instruction manual?
In computerese, you want “good documentation”—something that’s “user
friendly.” If the manual doesn’t include it, then does a book from an
outside publisher? Ideally, the book won’t focus just on the machine but
also on the software that comes with it.
NINETEEN
How long has the manufacturer been in business? How prosperous is the
company?
Buy from a new company if the technology looks far enough ahead of the
pack. But be careful. You don’t want to buy from a computer maker likely
to perish soon in the silicon jungle—not when you’ll need spare parts
and technical assistance.
TWENTY
Are any users groups around—organizations of people owning the machine?
Ask your dealer or call the manufacturer for the name of the group near
you. If there isn’t such a group, that’s a blow against the machine then
and there. You still might buy it, but you’ll have less technical advice
than you might otherwise get.
Another beauty of good user groups is that they work closely with
dealers and manufacturers without compromising their own independence.
With fellow owners just a quick phone call away, you’ll be less at the
mercy of know-nothing hucksters.
Obviously, too, before buying the machine, you’ll find that the user
groups can be just the ticket for learning the quirks of the dealers and
the machines. Ask discreet questions after the meetings. Which machines
and dealers are winners? Which are gobblers?
Don’t forget, of course, that the owners would like to think of
themselves as having spent their thousands of dollars the right way.
I try to remember that when a computer shopper at a Kaypro meeting asks
me about my machine,I say I like it. Then I go out of my way to tick off
the Kaypro’s flaws so I won’t have it on my conscience that I offered a
bum steer.
TWENTY-ONE
What about maintenance?
You can solve many of your repair problems ahead of time by buying a
computer easy to service.
That’s one reason I got the Kaypro rather than the Osborne.
You also want to find out how often the machines break down. Try—whether
it’s a computer or a printer—to get an MTBF figure. That stands for
“mean time between failures.”
_Failures?_ That sounds fatalistic. But face it. Neither people nor
machines go on forever.
MTBF figures are like political polls and deodorant-commercial
statistics—subject to gross manipulation. But they’re a start.
Also, consider if you want to pay for regular maintenance, which, in one
year, might cost more than a tenth the price of the computer?
Or should you gamble without a maintenance contract?
Here’s a rule of thumb. Don’t gamble if (a) your system is large and
complicated or (b) you’ll be up the creek without a paddle if the
computer is out of service too long. The second condition is
particularly true if one or more of these conditions prevail:
a. If you own just one machine.
b. If it’s an oddball machine—not a commodity like an IBM or Kaypro.
c. If your business grinds to a halt without it.
I gambled for a while and seemed to be losing. During the first year I
spent perhaps $150 on replacing a printed circuit board in the Kaypro
and $300 on printer repairs. Considering the Kaypro’s dramatic effect on
my output, I won’t gripe too loudly. Nevertheless, I appreciated the
need for a service contract for even a well-made computer in constant
use. And within a few weeks it paid off. A disk drive failed, and the
computer shop didn’t charge me a cent for several hundred dollars in
repairs. The man worked while I waited at the public library down the
street. The shop had promised, before I forked over my $250 yearly
payment, that it would at least try to fix up my machine within
twenty-four hours.
If possible, negotiate for financial penalties if repairmen don’t do
their job—at your location or theirs—within a certain amount of time.
The contract might be with anyone from a national service organization
to a good, honest man operating out of a garage who’s been in business a
while and has convincing references—and substitutes for the times he’s
on vacation. (See Chapter 8, “People,” for rules to consider in avoiding
turkeys.) Count on spending 1–1½ percent per month of the hardware costs
if you’re dealing with a national service organization.
Of course you _might_ be better off without a service contract. Just
make sure you can limp along briefly without a computer, which, alas, I
can’t.
If you do try to wing it without a maintenance contract, you’d better be
prepared to know as soon as possible if you’ve bought a lemon. That’s
not such a bad idea even _with_ a contract.
Theoretically, you should smell the juice within the first few months
before the warranty expires. But that’s not how it always works—or
doesn’t work. As a novice, you may not be putting the machine through
all its paces. So why not invite a more advanced computer owner or a
consultant—someone you trust—to tinker around with the computer in ways
that you’ll eventually be doing? The sooner the “test drive,” the
better. Your tester should do basics like copying disks, transferring
electronic files from one disk to another, erasing files, and renaming
files. See if there’s a program available to test the disk drives and
related circuitry. Often those parts are the ones that fail first, since
(a) the drives are mechanical as well as electronic and (b) they get
some of the heaviest workouts during the computer’s operation. As soon
as you get your machine, you might leave it running twenty-four hours a
day for a week or two. Any component that will fail from heat buildup,
for instance, will probably quit then—while your warranty is still
fresh. Power consumption is typically no more than a light bulb’s.
Whether you have a maintenance contract or not, remember a basic rule:
It isn’t the shop’s diagnostic tests that count. It’s how your newly
repaired machine will run _your_ programs.
After I took my computer into a shop for disk-drive work, the repairman
said the drives just needed a little cleaning and were now testing fine.
The computer, however, flubbed when I tried one of my regular programs.
Result: I forced the repairman to install the new disk drive that my
machine needed.
Moral: always keep on hand some _good_ backup copies of important
programs that you can take with you to the repair shop to make certain
that the people there have done the job right.
■ ■ ■
Rothman’s Law of Computer Trouble-Shooting (Cribbed From an Old Rule
for Fliers)
1. If your computer messes up, remember the very last thing you did,
whether in hardware or software.
2. See if that isn’t the answer to your problem.
■ ■ ■
TWENTY-TWO
When will the new machine be available?
Be especially wary in buying recently introduced computers—even from
giants like Xerox.
Maybe you should go ahead because they deliver more value; but don’t
commit yourself even to a partial payment if you can’t pin the store
down to a delivery date. Why not negotiate the right to withdraw your
money any time you want before you formally accept the computer?
TWENTY-THREE
Will the store deliver your computer system and install it?
For a small portable, obviously, that matters less than it would with a
major office system.
Remember, too, that you probably want your software all set to go. Even
popular programs like WordStar may be too scary for you to _install_
yourself. The word “install” in this case refers to tinkering with
software so it runs right on your machine for your use.
TWENTY-FOUR
If the store or other supplier is supplying the equipment over a period
of time, can you break the contract into segments?
That way, if the store or systems house doesn’t perform in the early
stages, you’ve retained some leverage.
TWENTY-FIVE
What references can the store provide before you purchase a major
system?
Buying a computer isn’t that different from hiring a consultant or any
other professional.
Since you probably can’t fully understand the product, you at least have
a right to know the reputation of the people offering it.
In at least one case, in fact, a court ruled that the computer dealer in
effect was functioning as a consultant and had more responsibilities to
the buyer than he would have had if he had been selling a less
complicated product. It’s an interesting ruling. And that’s it. Don’t
count on it to protect you.
TWENTY-SIX
Will the store owner himself sign the contract? Remember, your trusty
sales rep may be on his way out of town.
■ ■ ■
Rules for Buying a Used Computer
1. Know your prices. Study the want ads of the local papers. There’s
even a _Computer Classified Bluebook_ that rates micros for value in
various areas (such as dependability) and offers possible prices.
It’s available from _Computer Classified_, P.O. Box 3395, Reno,
Nevada 89505 ($30 a single copy). Micro prices can change faster
than a guide can keep up with them, but the _Computer Classified
Bluebook_ might be a good start if the local newspaper doesn’t carry
many want ads for your particular machine. Obviously, too, you’ll
want to ask around user groups and read the classified sections of
their newsletters.
2. Pay attention to the machine’s physical condition. A banged-up
case—or a chipped one—might suggest that the innards have been
roughed around, too.
3. Find out how your pet programs run. If you don’t have any available
that work on the machine you’re considering, see if you can borrow
some from a friend and have him or her accompany you. Make sure your
friend has backup copies in case the programs are damaged by a
sloppy drive in machine you’re considering.
Remember that in the secondhand market the buyer normally doesn’t
have much recourse if later he finds that the merchandise is
defective.
4. As with a car, ask why the seller is selling.
5. Find out what generation of equipment it is. Does it include all
the wrinkles of new models advertised.
6. Learn where you stand legally if you’re buying software with the
used machine. Some companies may require you to register yourself as
the new owner; software manuals or accompanying literature may have
this information. If you’re on good terms with the software company,
there’s more of a chance its people will answer questions. The
company may require you to give the serial number of your disk
before it will respond.
7. Call up commercial auctioneers and find out if they’re holding any
auctions offering the equipment you’re interested in.
Don’t buy equipment at an auction unless you’ve been around the
computer for a while or have a friend who can watch out for you.
Very possibly you won’t get a chance to give a machine a good test.
Don’t buy unless the price is low enough so you’ll still be okay
even if you must spend 25 percent of the auction price on repairs.
8. Obviously you’ll want to consider a maintenance agreement with a
local dealer or repair shop if you need the machine for your work.
You may, of course, have to pay for an inspection.
BACKUP II ❑ A Few Grouchy Words on Printers
I sold my =daisy wheel=—a printer that prints like a high-priced
electric typewriter—and replaced it with a plebeian =dot matrix
machine=.
Why? Because all printers, especially my 1975-vintage daisy, are a
series of lousy trade-offs.
And one of the trade-offs was about to be my solvency.
The old daisy wheel cost a mere $650 used—quite a bargain for a machine
whose latest models go for several thousand dollars—and Anderson
Jacobson didn’t charge for minor adjustments if I lugged in the bulky
printer myself. AJ, however, kept after me to get a $450-a-year service
contract.
Then, one day, a printed circuit board conked out, and the replacement
board and some other work came to $300.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I told the crew at Anderson Jacobson. “Three
hundred dollars for a printer that cost me $675 originally?”
No, Anderson Jacobson wasn’t out to gyp me. Quite honestly, the people
there had intended to make their money off me through the service
contract; and that would have been fine for a company that needed a
heavy-duty, industrial-quality printer to pound away, day after day,
around the clock, without stopping. But for a lone free-lance writer?
However fast I typed, I could never give them the amount of business for
which its makers had designed it.
So like destitute parents searching for the right foster home for their
children, I looked for better, more affluent surroundings for my
printer.
I asked for, and got, $650 for the printer with a =tractor feed= thrown
in for free—it lets you use big stacks of perforated computer paper
without stuffing in new sheets when you reach the end of the page. The
new owner, a Washington consultant, _understood_. He wasn’t just buying
a printer; he was buying his right to an Anderson Jacobson service
contract.
My AJ’s successor was the Microprism Model 480, a sleek, plastic-covered
machine that took up less space on my tabletop than some typewriters.
In a dot-matrix printer like the 480, little pins hit the ribbon, making
impressions on the paper. An “A” is one series of pins, a “B” another,
and so on. The quality normally isn’t any match for the daisy wheel’s,
even though the price may be much lower than a daisy going the same
speed. “Prints like a daisy, costs like a matrix!” Integral Data Systems
touted the Model 480. That was stretching matters.
The letters from my next printer, a Panasonic KX-P1092, could _almost_
pass for a typewriter’s. It sold discounted at a local store for $489,
just a few dollars more than Anderson Jacobson wanted for its one-year
maintenance contract.
Here’s what else I could have chosen—rightly or not:
1. Another daisy wheel machine. The daisy wheel is plastic or metal and
looks vaguely like some flowers, with many strokes radiating from the
center. The spokes contain letters and numbers, and your computer
tells what spoke the printer should strike—which it does with a little
hammer. Run a noisy daisy wheel at one in the morning in a thin-walled
apartment with an early-rising neighbor on the other side and you may
get a not-so-friendly visit from the police or zoning department.
2. A =laser printer=. Typically, it works a bit like some copying
machines, with your computer controlling the printed image rather than
a document you put in front of a mirror. This wasn’t the choice for
me; laser printers at the time went for several thousand dollars up.
By now, however, the price may be much lower. Political fund-raisers
love the nice quality that lasers can add to slick letters saying how
badly they need your money.
3. A =thermal-transfer printer=. This uses patterns of heat to arrange
the images on special paper; it’s _quiet_. Normally, the paper can be
expensive, and the printing quality is poor; so thermal printers were
also out of the running for me. Later, however, IBM introduced its
Quietwriter printer, which prints beautifully on ordinary paper.
4. An =ink-jet printer=. This kind literally squirts ink against the
paper in patterns forming letters and numbers; and the noise level is
low, maybe 50 decibels, compared to 65 or more that a daisy wheel
might inflict. What a boon to apartment dwellers and people in
already-noisy offices.
While I was shopping for the Anderson Jacobson’s replacement, I didn’t
take ink jets very seriously because of the broken-up letters that came
from them. A year later, however, I talked to Richard Sugden, a Wyoming
M.D., the owner of a PT-88 ink-jet from Siemens, selling in the $900
range, who may have had a limited solution.
He used the 88 with a special printing program called Fancy Font and
high-quality paper that soaked up the ink neatly.
The program slowed his printer down to a fraction of the usual 160
characters per second but greatly improved his print even if it still
couldn’t pass for a daisy wheel’s. You can also team up Fancy Font with
some dot-matrix machines, especially those from Epson. Then you can
print in a number of sizes and styles, including “olde English.” Don’t
overdo. “Fancy,” as its makers joke in a printing sample, “may either
kill or cure.”
In printer shopping for myself, I used these criteria:
SPEED
Yes, actually I could have afforded a new daisy—one of those $450-$1,000
models.
The problem was that most crept along at less than 20 characters per
second. That sounds fast, maybe 200 words a minute; it isn’t. You must
redo an entire page if you want perfect typing but wish to make one
change in material already printed; you can’t just white out the wrong
word and stick in the correct one as you can with a typewriter. Often,
after completing a supposedly final version, I see _many_ changes I
should have made on-screen. Somehow my editing eyes are sharper with
paper.