My Compaq Presario 5476 arrived about a year ago. Dixons delivered it some days late, but it wasn't their fault - bad weather on the Irish Sea had held up the shipment. I got it out of the box, put the bits together, found a new home in the house for the other computer (which would have done me, really, but blame the consumer society) and off we went.
It was, and is, fast, spacious and lovely, far more than I needed, of course, but everything I wanted. And best of all, Compaq had kindly fitted all the software onto one disk.
Then, one day a couple of months later, I couldn't get into Microsoft Word any more. The files were there, but I couldn't get into them. The screen told me to go off and re-install the programme. I wasn't worried. I'm used to the notion that programs get cranky. So I got out my Compaq "Quick Restore" disk, stuck it in the machine, rooted around and found the Microsoft Word files. I started to copy them over and . . . was asked for a password. I didn't have a password, so I rang the Compaq helpline.
That was when I found out I was in trouble. The password, the helpline person told me "is known only to two people in England". If I want to re-install Word, I will have to re-install the original programs, a process which will wipe out everything on my hard disk prior to the new installation.
This was a new one on me. Every computer I'd bought up to then had come with software on CD or floppy disk from which I could re-install programs without doing any harm. Moreover, if I buy a piece of software, I expect to have it in a form in which I can replace the original installation if anything goes wrong - and I mean replace it without wiping out everything in sight. I could, of course, back everything up onto a vast number of floppy disks, but that just isn't practical. Compaq, it seemed to me, had taken away my control over my own property. So I sat down and wrote old-fashioned letters to Compaq, Microsoft and Dixons, demanding to be sent Microsoft Word and Windows 98 on CDs.
Microsoft rang to express empathy, which was nice of them. A second letter eventually resulted in a phone call from Dixons, who took the view that I had got what I had paid for and that was that. It did not help that the Dixons representative explained that in order to have the sort of control I want over the software I've bought, I might have to do something which would infringe Microsoft's copyright. Yeah, right, thanks guys.
Compaq eventually rang to say someone would be ringing me - but the someone didn't. Microsoft finally sent me a Microsoft Office CD - as a one-off thing on a non-liability basis - which includes Microsoft Word. I installed it, but, hey, my Compaq doesn't want to know. It will let me install Powerpoint and Excel and Outlook Express, but not Microsoft Word. The computer continues to insist I go back and re-install the progam from the original disk.
Further calls to the Compaq helpline brought the conclusion from a sympathetic support person that there was a problem somewhere in my Windows 98 program and I would have to, as he chillingly put it, "re-install the machine". So we're back to wiping everything out.
I am not happy. Other people in this world can re-install Windows and Microsoft Word to their heart's content without losing a kilobyte of information. But this arrangement between Microsoft and Compaq deprives me of that option.
When I started my letter-writing campaign, I decided that in January I would forget about it. In the journalism business, you come across enough people who allow small grievances to develop into corrosive obsessions to realise that you have to limit these things. Otherwise I'll end up going around from one newspaper office to another with plastic bags full of letters to Compaq, divorced and living in a hostel.
But next time I buy a computer, I will ask if the Microsoft programs come on a separate CD and can be re-installed without trauma. This means buying from a specialist computer outlet or doing research on the Net.
This is not just a Compaq thing or a computer thing. Numerous everyday goods are going beyond our control in various ways. I'd like the option of being able to wind my Fiat car windows up and down with a handle without relying on pressing a button, for instance. The other day, the window was frosted and the button didn't have the power to open it. I could have opened it with a handle. No big deal, maybe, but it's another bit of control gone - and I don't see why.
Right now, there is my Compaq Presario 5476. Hard disk as big as a barn, oodles of oomph and it didn't (as is usually the case) go out of date as soon as I opened the box.
But I remain Wordless, and if I ever need to reinstall Windows 98 . . . oh boy!