Dear Microsoft,
To me, a left-brain logic-head who found his artistic, intuitive right-brain side, you are like an ex-girlfriend. I miss you sometimes and we even hook up for the occasional “rebooty” call - but then I remember why we broke up in the first place.
I know you are trying. I really do. I see it – the clean, minimalistic Windows 10 splash screens; the reassuring upgrade messages and sleek the type-to-search feature – you’re working hard, and have no doubt evolved, as we all do. But under the surface, I kept having a deep suspicion that once the smooching is over, I’ll find that it is still you.
Today, I was proven right.
I’ll explain. I might be dating a Mac now, but when it comes to getting an office job done – you’re the best. Nothing can replace your positive Outlook, your Word can be trusted, you Excel at what you do and Powerfully get right to the Point… OK, OK, I’ll stop with the silly puns. Button line, I kept Office 365 as my productivity suite even after biting the Apple (couldn’t resist!).
And so today I finally had a moment to respond to your courting suggestions and said yes to a quickie upgrade to Office 365. And Quickie it was – you definitely got the technique down, that’s for sure. I was really impressed.
That is, until I launched the first Application.
It was just last night you seduced me into upgrading our relationship. It’s now the morning after, and I launch outlook in a frantic need to review an important email. Oh, right! Last night’s shenanigans. How quickly I forgot. A splash screen welcomes me. It wants something. SIGH. And I thought it was just a one-night thing… I guess you still need my attention. OK, OK – let’s see what you want. What is that? An import? Of what? My data? What the fuck do you mean, MY DATA? Why do I need to import my data? I thought it was just an quickie upgrade, not a joint move to a new home. What data are you talking about? What’s STD??! Oh, you mean PST. What’s a PST file? Who?? Why??... You promised the quickie would be quickie clean, and now you’re playing dirty!
Deep breath. Long gone are the days in which I was able to summon the patience – or technical skills – for this kind of a morning-after conversation. All I wanted was to check out your new look… a quick job done. Oh, here’s a smaller button – it says “import later”. Oh, good. For now, I just need to see that one important email. CLICK.
AAHHHHHH!
The inbox is blank, no are emails are to be found. You sink into a protesting silence. It was a trick answer! Import Later? you say - No problem - emails later. The Outlook is no longer positive! No happy ending for me in sight, either.
You know what, GO TO HELL. Who needs you, anyway? I’ll just find the email ON MY IPHONE. Look, my new, shiny, AWESOME IPHONE. How do you like that, ha?
24 later, I launch outlook again, the aftermath of our previous interaction completely forgotten. The blank screen welcomes me with a cold, silent stare. She forgets nothing, the bitch. Another deep sigh.
Oh well. At least I am not so much in a hurry now. I dig down in the memory cells and coax her back to interact with me by reconnecting her to my hosted Exchange account. Emails are starting to synch. Oh good, she is speaking to me now. Poor are those bastards who did not use to date you, Microsoft - I whisper quietly, not to upset her. They would have been shooting themselves right now, thinking all their emails are gone forever. I’m lucky I used to be a techie.
Yes, it is still you, Microsoft. I recognize you still, hiding under the slick dialog boxes and the smoothly finished fonts. You are giving it away with your act – same lady, different hat. Still nerdy, your system messages are cryptic and crude; still pushy, seeking commitment by tricking me into storing my stuff in your OneDrive closet. I am not fooled! I’m not leaving, either – you are good at what you do, I’ll give you that. But I ain’t smiling, you hear? and I’ll think twice next time you’ll promise me you have changed yet again, and offer me a quickie upgrade.
Oh, and by the way – no matter the outfit, you’ll always be lookin’ like the geekie, dorky, late to the party wonnabe - at least as long as you keep insisting calling yourself MICROSOFT. At least outside of the server-room, that is. Sorry… but someone had to say it. Better it comes from an ex-lover, who deep down still loves you. might hurt less.
xxoo, Ovadya