Genealogy Leads to Spending Spree

...Sort of. On February 27, 2008, I began doing genealogical research for Mrs. Y. She and her husband own the investment/tax agency in which I worked until April 14. I was supposed to do this research at work and only whenever I had some free time. However, as usually happens in life, I was suddenly inundated with work at nearly the same moment that she handed me her "starter" info. It soon became clear that I was going to remain inundated for the foreseeable future, so I decided to do her genealogy at home. I did this because I wanted to have something to hand to her in the end. Besides, I was eager to get started.

Most other people either play solitaire, do crossword puzzles, put jigsaw puzzles together, play computer games, remodel bathrooms, knit handkerchiefs or drink dry martinis while watching old episodes of Gilligan's Island to keep themselves distracted ;-). I find that genealogy easily beats all of those pursuits, hands down (except drinking dry martinis, which, of course, you can do while searching the internet for your 5th cousin, three times removed ;-). Plus, you actually produce something valuable and rewarding for all of your trouble (not that knitting a handkerchief or remodeling bathroom isn't rewarding, but I added those two pursuits after I wrote that sentence ;-).

I told Mrs. Y that all I needed in order to get started are the names of her parents and grandparents, and maybe her great-grandparents, as well as their birth dates and birth places. I always set this limit because, like a professional psychic, I like to start with as little information as possible. That way, it's more of a challenge for me and more impressive to the recipient when she or he sees what I've discovered.

To Make a Long Story Short (yes, how unlike me)...

In slightly over two weeks, and using only sources on the internet, I was able to add 505 names to Mrs. Y's family tree (counting the few names she had given to me to get me started). Mrs. Y had never known anything about her father's side of the family, so that is where I concentrated most of my work. Unlike the vast majority of people, she is lucky enough to be descended from and related to some prominent people on her father's side, including several state-level politicians (in three different states, no less), many wealthy businessmen, several rich land owners, lots of lawyers and judges, several Civil War veterans (on both sides of the conflict) and even a wealthy World War I flying ace whose plane was shot down over France just before the war ended. Last, but not least, she is descended from a signer of the Declaration of Independence. The various ancestors on her father's side came from Maine, New York, Illinois, New Jersey, Virginia/West Virginia and Kansas before settling in western Nebraska and eastern Wyoming. It is very rare for a genealogical researcher to be able to research a family tree like that, so I had a lot of fun.

Unexpected Benefits

Mrs. Y was clearly thrilled (no fakery on her part), especially regarding the fact that her great-great-great-great-great grandfather had signed the Declaration of Independence (she even told everyone about my research during our April 15, end-of-tax-season party). She quickly offered to pay me for my time. I told her that my doing it at home had not been part of the deal, so she was, therefore, under no obligation to pay me. She didn't accept that answer, but I still didn't name an amount. So she told me to suggest a proper amount to our mutual friend, Mrs. L (it was Mrs. L who had convinced me to work there in the first place). I repeated this to Mrs. L the next day (and mentioned how many hours I had worked on it), but I didn't give her an amount either because I'm just not good at that sort of thing. Mrs. L, who also works for Mrs. Y, said she would think about an amount that was suitable. A couple of weeks later she told me that Mrs. Y sometimes buys things for people instead of paying them cash. That sounded intriguing, but I didn't have any idea what to have her buy for me. Mrs. L then reminded me that I had once expressed an interest in buying a miniDV camcorder.

That caught my attention. For the past two or three years I have been wanting a camcorder that also has the ability to convert VHS (analog) videos into digital (DV) format on the computer. No miniDV tapes required. This process is known as "passthrough." Then I could edit them in iMovie and export them to DVDs (while also keeping the original iMovie DV file as a master copy). Of course, I couldn't refuse a potential offer like that. She had found my weak spot.

I immediately started looking for a camera (preferably a Canon) that has the analog-to-DV passthrough feature built in. There used to be quite a few models that had that feature, but now it is extremely rare. I could find only one model still available, a Canon ZR 700, and it was in just a handful of online stores, with the cheapest price being $325. Even though that price was lower than the $400 plus price tags at the other places, I still considered it to be far more than I had earned for doing some genealogical research. However, I really wanted that camcorder, so I told Mrs. L that I would gladly do other work to make up the difference if Mrs. Y would buy it for me, because I hate ordering stuff on the internet in general, much less from an unknown company. Amazon.com, which I definitely know and trust, did not have that model in stock anymore (at least not a new model).

Well, it turns out that Mrs. L was wrong. Mrs. Y was not interested in paying me by buying something for me. Instead, she agreed to pay me $200 in cash. That's still more than I felt comfortable taking, but she seemed intent on paying me, and I had definitely put in a lot of hours of work on her family tree, so I didn't argue (I still haven't received it, though, and I won't be heartbroken if I don't). As for the camcorder, after having gotten my hopes up, I soon decided that I wasn't brave enough or "frivolous" enough to pay that much money to an unknown company. I decided I was just out of luck as far as owning a miniDV camcorder goes.

The Punch Line

Yesterday morning I had resigned myself to the fact that I would be borrowing an out-of-town friend's camcorder (actually, his classroom's camcorder) for a couple of months starting in June. Would I be able to get all of my home movies imported into iMovie in that time period? It could become monotonous fairly quickly if it is done on a tight schedule. Then yesterday afternoon I got on Amazon.com one more time, and -- low and behold! -- they had just "restocked" new models of the Canon ZR700! Even more amazingly, it is on sale for a measly $179.99! That's $146 cheaper than the price at the other online store and roughly $240 cheaper than its original price. I was very relieved that Mrs. Y hadn't wasted her money by buying it from that other store. I immediately added the camcorder to my shopping cart (I had bought a scanner from Amazon last August, so I didn't have to spend time registering).

When a frugal person such as myself buys something that quickly, you not only know that it is a great deal, but that it is something I really, really want!

I also decided that I had probably better make the best of this very rare online retail adventure by buying a few more items (we non-materialists just aren't interested in owning lots of stuff, so "retail adventures" are very rare for us; although I do frequently fantasize about owning a new Mac Pro Tower with four 1TB internal hard drives and a 30-inch monitor! also, a moped that gets 70 to 100 mpg). So, in addition to the camcorder, I also bought the following items:

1.) Two five-packs of miniDV tapes for $12.95 each (about $50 cheaper than I could buy them locally, or so my research indicates).

2.) One additional battery for the camcorder for $54.99 (highly rated by other users).

3.) Three additional rechargeable batteries for my Nikon CookPix 4300 digital camera for $14.86 each (I may have bought one too many, but I don't care).

4.) One new book (released just this week) for $12.60 called The Revolution: A Manifesto, which is receiving rave reviews. It's the first time I've bought a new hardcover book in many, many years (and the very first time that it wasn't on the remaindered shelf with a $3.00 price tag on it ;-). It is the first book of this genre that I have EVER purchased.

Happy Conclusion

I've been waiting for nine years (since iMovie was first released by Apple in 1999) to be able to import my roughly thirty home videos onto the computer, so that I can not only edit them to my heart's content, but so that I can also advance frame by frame in order to capture still images to add to my photo collection. Now I only have to wait a few more days for the camcorder to arrive. I just hope the quality of the imported video is what I expect it to be. If it isn't, well, then I will at least have a new wide-angle digital-video camcorder with which to capture the incredible number of exciting events that take place in my life every day ;-p.

Post Script

I started this entry with the statement, "...Sort of." By that I mean that I would have bought this camcorder in a heartbeat for $179.99 even if I hadn't done the genealogical research for Mrs. Y. However, the problem is that I wasn't even thinking of camcorders until Mrs. L brought it up. And, of course, she only brought it up because I had done that genealogical research for Mrs. Y. Therefore, if I had not done that research, I probably would not have seen this last "passthrough" camcorder before it was sold out and discontinued.

"Yay" for me for once!

Alternate Entry

Part One (1985-1987)

In May 1985, I visited my Dad in Montana. During my return trip to Nebraska a week later, I passed by the small "city" of Blankton (not its real name), in northern Wyoming. I was impressed by its location in a gorgeous New England-like valley that runs along the eastern edge of the Big Horn Mountains (this should make it easier for you to guess which town it is; but please don't write the name in a comment). The mountains are only two or three miles west of the town (or so it appears to my untrained eye), and they dominate the horizon. Immediately east of Interstate 90 is the desolate scrub-brush prairie (or so it seems) that is so common in Wyoming (and which I have actually grown to like). I thought the area would be a great place to live just for the sake of the scenery. During my visits to Montana over the next two years, I occasionally stopped at an excellent second-hand bookstore on Blankton's Main Street. I always enjoyed having that excuse to stop.

Part Two (1987)

In June 1987, after graduating from college, I moved to Hardin, Montana, to put my teaching degree to good use by tending bar for my dad. Foolishly, I only stayed for five months (I was restless and wanted to return to my home state of South Dakota). My dad moved to northeastern Wyoming about a year later, so I never had a reason to go as far west as Blankton again.

Part Three (1995)

In June 1995, I learned (by sheer chance) that a museum in Blankton was hiring a curator. I was fully qualified for it in every way, and I was very excited at the possibility of living in Blankton. After applying for the job, I read five Wyoming history books because I wanted to "know my stuff" if I was hired.

Of course, I wasn't hired.

Part Four (2007)

In August 2007, I applied for the position of Macintosh Technician with the Blankton Chronicle (not its real name). The job description, as vague as it was, seemed like nearly a perfect match of my former duties as a Macintosh Network Administrator in a school district here in western Nebraska. I found it hard to believe that a daily newspaper in a small "city" in Wyoming could afford the services of a dedicated Macintosh Technician, but that's exactly what the job description seemed to say. I rationalized that maybe the owners of the Blankton Chronicle also owned newspapers in several nearby towns and that I might be a traveling technician (which was perfectly OK by me). I didn't really believe it, but I rationalized along those lines anyway.

I mailed my resumé the same day that I had found the listing on the internet (August 3). One week later, I received a letter from the editor of the Chronicle informing me that the position had already been filled.

Huh? How could they have found a Macintosh Technician so quickly in sparsely populated Wyoming? Mac experts are almost as rare as wooly mammoths in this part of the country. The editor concluded by saying that he would keep my resumé on hand if the job ever became available again. For some reason, I had a feeling that I would actually hear from him some day.

Part Five (2008)

"Some day" turned out to be February 21, 2008. The editor called me that day and left a message asking me if I was still interested in the job. I called him the next morning and replied as nonchalantly possible, "Yes, I am still interested." He explained that the position had opened up again when the wife of the man that he had hired last August wanted to return to their old home in Michigan. [I guess it takes all kinds to populate the planet. Right, Kathleen? ;-)]

I asked him for a few details about the job. He said that he knew very little about technology, so he couldn't tell me exactly what I would be doing; however, he assured me that it would involve "computers only." He said I would have to get the finer details from the Mac Technician (the one that I would eventually replace in a year or two, when he retired). Naturally, I brought up my salary. I told him that it would have to be pretty respectable in order for me to move to an expensive town like Blankton (it has become quite a resort community in the past twenty years, with land selling and renting at double-ultra-premium prices, even out in the "desolate" region). He assured me that the salary would definitely be more than "entry level"; but he didn't want to say anything specific unless or until I came to Blankton for a personal inspection. I said I could to do that, and he suggested that the best time for him would be Monday, March 3. He recommended that I drive up on Sunday and stay overnight (with the newspaper reimbursing me for my motel room). I couldn't argue with that.

It seemed to take forever for the date of departure to arrive. But it finally did arrive. During the long, cold, windy (and wonderfully liberating!) drive to Blankton on March 2, I kept thinking there has to be a catch. This sounds too good to be true. I could not imagine that I wouldn't be doing some sort of newspaper work too. The problem with that scenario is the fact that I absolutely do not want to do newspaper work (ever again) because it means doing the same stuff over and over and over and over again. And the repetition would be even worse at a daily newspaper. If I had wanted that sort of work, I could have applied for several newspaper jobs already. But I haven't applied for them because I know that after the initial thrill (if any) reality would quickly set in, as it always has before, and I would suddenly realize that I will be living this Groundhog Day existence for the rest of my life. In some cases, that might not be so bad, but not if it means I have to do the same stuff -- that I never wanted to do again -- over and over and over and over again.

I arrived at 3:00 PM (my first time back in Blankton in over 20 years) and checked into the large chain motel on Main Street that the editor had recommended. I then called him, as he had requested, to let him know I was in town. He hurried to the motel to meet me. He was very friendly and outgoing (a fairly young looking age 60). He took me to the newspaper office for a quick informal look, even though it was closed for the day. We spent about five minutes there, which was just long enough to depress me.

The building was not even one-third as large as the building used by the daily newspaper here in my town in western Nebraska, even though Blankton and this town are roughly the same size, and the readership (and surrounding communities) should be roughly the same, too. Even worse, it was filled with Macs ranging in age from about 13 years old (not the majority, thankfully) to about three years old (yes, Macs just keep going and going and going, like the Energizer Bunny). I knew at least half of the computers would be running nothing newer than OS 9 (Operating System 9) -- sheesh! -- while the few newest ones would probably be running various (and probably very outdated) versions of OS X (that being the present Mac operating system). For the record, OS 9 was discontinued in about 2000. It would be an unpleasant experience going that far back in technological time as a career move. I had envisioned this scenario many times before arriving in Blankton, but had kept hoping for the best. Of course, how could I have known any of this beforehand since the editor had not seen fit to list these details in the ad or mention them to me on the phone?

The editor also finally revealed that I would be doing some layout work (probably using one of my least favorite programs, QuarkXPress) in addition to my "technical" duties. And, of course, he said there would always be tight deadlines since "this is a daily paper."

To summarize: Old computers, old operating systems, mind-numbingly repetitive layout work in a less-than-stellar environment... EXACTLY WHAT I DID NOT WANT!!

He then took me on a quick tour of Blankton, which meant nothing to me since all American towns are the same in my book. It's the people and the geographic locations that make the difference. Blankton still has a thriving main street (a rarity in this day and age), but, aside from that, it is a stereotypical American town in every other way. It has the obligatory Wal-Mart, Taco John's, Taco Bell, McDonald's, Burger King, car dealerships and a vast array of gas stations/convenience stores, etc.).

During that guided tour, I tried to remain positive about the job, thinking that it might not be as bad as it had initially looked. I had driven too far, and I had had such high hopes, that I wasn't about to give up yet, at least not out loud. I would wait to learn more from the technician on Monday.

As we were returning from our tour of the generic suburbs of Blankton, he said, "Would you like to stop for a beer? I figure it's OK to ask you that question since you say you used to be a bar tender." I replied that that would be nice. A block or two later, he parked next to a tiny cinderblock liquor store. I said, "We're stopping at a liquor store?" He replied, "No, it's a bar, but it used to be a liquor store." He said it is his regular hangout. We stepped inside the sardine-can-sized building and found that it was packed with people. Most of them were watching the University of Wyoming Cowgirls basketball team lose to Utah.** We sat down on the last two barstools in the back room. We each had two beers and visited for about an hour. He was really doing his best to talk me into taking the job by mentioning great profit sharing, etc. He said I could work for the Chronicle until retirement, which, he pointed out unnecessarily, would be in a mere 18 years. My God! Talk about finding the right words to depress and disillusion a person!!! I was still a "youngster" just ten short years ago, with women in their 20s still taking notice of me!!! ;-( Now this guy is telling me that I could, if I wanted to, have a job in a remote community (Blankton suddenly felt very remote and lonely and cold) doing the same repetitive tasks day in and day out on old technology, while rapidly advancing in age toward retirement and beyond.

After that, he dropped me off at my motel room and told me to come to the office between 8:00 and 8:30 in the morning.

I ate supper at Burger King (a couple of miles from my motel). My motel's nice restaurant was open, but it was completely empty. I didn't want to sit in there all by myself with a hostess seating me (she stood there waiting for me to come in) and a waitress grudgingly asking me "how everything is," because it's part of her job duties. After Burger King, I spent the rest of the evening in my room writing emails and checking out my usual Mac web sites. I listened to people sneezing and coughing and talking (and maybe even blinking their eyelids) through the paper-thin inner door, while nearby train whistles occasionally bleated through the paper-thin outer door. Then some rude people parked their very loud and large pickup just outside my room and let it idle for about twenty-five minutes. I angrily got up after fifteen minutes and looked out the window just in time to see them drive an even louder Harley-Davidson out of the trailer behind the pickup and pull it into the driveway of a house across the parking lot. Sigh.

In the morning, I visited with the Mac Technician. He is a nice guy (also in his 60s), although I was told there is a less pleasant side to him. I could sense that was true, but we had a nice visit. The job he was doing when I first sat down (slowly importing next week's programming content into the paper's weekly TV-guide grid) looked exactly like the assembly-line work that I was dreading, and he was doing it on the ancient OS 9 operating system. He gave me more details regarding my job and showed me a few of the haphazardly arranged collections of aging computers. Then the truth finally came out, and it confirmed what I could already see for myself as I sat there: He said, in so many words, that I would be doing mostly layout work (in QuarkXPress) with some occasional "Mac Technician" work on the side.

It was all too depressing, but I was still trying my hardest to keep an open mind because I really wanted to get away from this town here in Nebraska, and I also really liked (like) the idea of living in northern Wyoming or southeastern Montana.***

On a shallow note: When I first entered the building and was walking to the back of the large room to meet the technician, I noticed that most of the female employees of the Chronicle are perfect clones of Trinamick's infamous Wonky-Eyed Beast. Egad!! I couldn't believe my eyes! How on earth had so many of them managed to accumulate all in one place like this? It was like a scene from a science-fiction movie. I certainly wasn't looking forward to spending the last wispy vestiges of my youth (sob, sniffle) working in such an environment. Fate has made darned sure that I have had nothing but rotten luck all of my life when it comes to being in the wrong place at the wrong time with regard to women; and this was just adding major insult to major injury. Is it any wonder that I want to become a hermit?

The final straw that broke the camel's back occurred when I visited with the editor again after my visit with the technician. I'm sure he expected me to love what I saw, and he wanted me to begin negotiating my salary. But I knew he wouldn't accept what I considered to be a reasonable minimum for moving there, yet I didn't want to ask for anything less. So I remained silent, and he finally set a much lower salary than I wanted (not much more than what I am earning now at my low-level job). His salary would be considered fairly acceptable in a less expensive part of the country, but it was much too low for a region in which land not only sells, but also rents, for prices similar to what you might find in a suburb of San Francisco. It was certainly way too low for me to uproot my entire life and move to Blankton in order to take a job that I already knew I was going to hate.

The editor had been so nice to me that I didn't have the heart to tell him I was leaning toward rejecting the job offer. Oddly enough, I also still wanted to have time to think about it for a while longer because, in spite of everything, I still liked the idea of living in that area. I told him I would call him with my answer in the next day or two. I tried to keep up a positive appearance, but I know he could tell that I was very disillusioned and was apt not to accept the job (I could tell because of some of the things he said during the meeting). He reimbursed me for my motel room and gas (giving me a lot more than I thought I should get, but a friend later told me I had received the going rate). As I was preparing to leave, he said, "I thought you were going to stay another day. I was going to take you to dinner tonight." Of course, I couldn't stay another day because I had to get back to work here. Besides, I didn't want to lead him on any longer or cost him any more money. I felt guilty enough being reimbursed since I was planning to refuse the job. But it was his fault that I had driven all the way to Blankton (660-mile round trip). He could have told me all the details on the telephone, but he had chosen not to do so.

The entire drive home was beautifully sunny (but very windy once I got past the Big Horn Mountains, which seem to block the wind). I stopped frequently to take pictures with my digital camera. I felt totally free for the first time in a long, long time. Even though it is winter, and everything is brown and white, I thought the scenery was absolutely majestic, frequently unique and almost always beautiful. Several of the towns in southeastern Wyoming (after I left the interstate for the final jaunt home) are very quaint and peaceful, even if they are dying.

All the way home, I thought long and hard about accepting or rejecting the job. One minute I was determined not to take it, and the next minute I tried to convince myself how much I would like living far away in northern Wyoming, so I would rationalize that the job might be worth taking in spite of all the drawbacks. Each time, the negatives outweighed the positives, and I knew I couldn't take it.

I spent the next two days trying to drum up the courage to simultaneously let the editor down and give up my greatest opportunity (so far) to leave this town. I spent most of Wednesday morning (before going to work) trying to pick up the phone. Just as I was about ready to do so, a serious problem (caused by the stupidity of my brother) arose that needed to be fixed. By the time that was over with (which required a visit to a bank), I just had enough time to make it to work. I called the editor the next morning at 8:30 and apologized for being late and explained why. I also said I was having great difficulty because I didn't want to tell him no, yet that's what I was doing. He was very rude and unfriendly and refused to say anything to me unless it was, "Uh huh" with an angry tone in his voice. Mostly, he was completely silent and left me hanging every time I spoke. I thought that his behavior was completely immature and unprofessional for a 60-year-old man in his position of authority. It was entirely uncalled for, no matter whether I was late in making the call or not (by only half a day, technically speaking). His behavior was embarrassing for me yet also relieving because it allowed me to stop feeling sorry for him. When I said that I should probably let him get back to his work, he rudely said, "OK, see ya," and hung up without waiting for a reply.

So, had his nice act had been nothing but an act all along?

It immediately occurred to me that if he could act like that because I was backing out of a job, then he probably acts like that toward his regular employees on a regular basis. I think I may have dodged a bullet by not going to work for him.

Epilogue Ever since the editor called me on February 21, to offer me the job, I had been looking forward to the entry that I would post here announcing my new job and my new home. That's why I concluded my previous entry with this sentence: "However, if I think I see a "perfect" job opportunity coming along, I'll take it, and then let you know." When I wrote that, I had already known about the Blankton job for a week.

Never fear. I'll keep trying. ;-)

-----

**The fact that Wyoming's women were losing to Utah was perfectly fine by me because they had had no business beating South Dakota State University last year for the right to play in the national championship; it was SDSU's first year as a Division I school, and, with a team consisting mostly of small-town South Dakota and Minnesota girls, they had beaten most Division I schools on their schedule that year and had almost become national champions!!!

*** I would especially like to live in Montana now, since the fascist Real ID Act has been outlawed there in no uncertain terms (Montana's legislature and especially its governor are my new heroes). Wyoming is also considering outlawing it, although I can hardly trust a state that so blindly supports Adolph Cheney, or should I call him Dick Hitler? Nebraska, much to its credit and my shock, is also considering outlawing the Real ID Act, although it is probably mostly for reasons of funding rather than for the sake of freedom. My beloved state of South Dakota, which seems to have been taken over by neocons in recent years, appears not to be rejecting it at all. I guess I will never be able to live there again.

Response to a Windows User

Earlier today, Fermicat posted an entry (Mixed Marriages) about her constant computer-platform "debate" with her husband, "PDM." My comment on that entry grew too long, so I have decided to post it here as an entry of my own.

One or two of my one or two regular readers might not care about this entry; nonetheless, it might possibly provide you with a pleasant (if not too literary) way to pass a few minutes.

FC: "PDM is a Mac person and I use a PC."

Me: Oh, my God! You shouldn't have written this entry! But I will try not to make you regret it! I don't want you to start seeing only the words, "Blah, blah, Mac, blah, blah..." in this entry. ;-D

And, yes, my smile was *that* big while I was reading your entry. At this moment, I can say with some certainty that I am a big fan of your husband. ;-)

FYI: I was a self-taught Macintosh network administrator at a relatively large school district from 1998 to 2003 (until budget cuts eliminated my position). I was a self-taught amateur prior to that time, from 1988 to 1998, using both PCs and Macs and hating the PCs with a passion (no offense). Needless to say, I could never have been a self-taught Windows network administrator, because everything is about twenty times more complicated than it needs to be in order to do the very same things I did with Macs. Think of it this way: If Apple built fighter jets, they would make them so that the average person on the street could hop in one and fly it like a pro with minimal experience. I know this because I was one of those people (computer-wise, that is). If Microsoft built fighter jets..., well, let's just say there would be lots of training fatalities, and I'm not saying that as a joke.

FC: "It’s not the end of the world. We can (and do) use each others’ computers."

Me: I'm sure PDM is well aware that any Intel Mac you buy now will also run Windows natively. In fact, in some reviews I've read, PC users believe Windows works better on the Mac than on a PC box. For instance, take a quick peek only at the title of this article; or this one. Just think how you and your husband would have one less difference between you (hardware-wise, at least) if you were to buy one of those multi-platorm Macs. Of course, then you might be fighting over who gets to use the computer. Ha.

FC: ...Highly specialized scientific applications are usually only available for PCs...

Me: I think you'd be really surprised at the number of highly specialized scientific apps for the Mac, maybe not the exact same ones, but there are a lot of them. For instance, a few years ago, a huge number of NASA engineers used Macs and refused to use Windows. They were dead set on giving up their Macs when a new busybody, know-it-all NASA chief tried to switch them all to Windows. I do not know if he was completely successful or not. I just know they preferred their Macs for their highly complex work.

FC: "Like most (all?) Mac users, PDM is quite vocal about it."

Me: Did you ever think that there might be a legitimate reason for our being so vocal? It's not as if we drank some spiked Kool-Aid or were starved for some sort of cult to follow (I hate all "cults," whether they are obscure or mainstream). I think our vocal nature comes from a sense of disbelief, among other things (more later). Here we Mac users are, driving down a beautifully designed interstate highway, while the majority of the world's drivers are crowded onto a bumpy, poorly maintained gravel road that runs parallel to the interstate. Many of us Mac users (not all) shout over to some of you Windows users, imploring you to join us on the better road (such invitations have nothing to do with being mindlessly devoted "fanatics"). Instead, you (I mean "you" in a generic sense) call us fanatics and say, "We're not interested. Most people are on this road. It suits our needs perfectly fine. We know all the twists and turns and curves and stop signs. Besides, we need to remain in contact with everyone else" (never mind that the interstate and the gravel road are nearly 100 percent connected and lead to the very same destinations).

FC: "He even blames problems with Mac stuff on Microsoft. 'If they didn’t have to make it PC-compatible, it would work fine.'"

Me: He knows what he is talking about, FC. ;-)

FC: "...Bill Gates and Microsoft are evil, money-grubbing, unfairly competing pigs..."

Me: "Once again, he's right. You only have to read some of the various computer histories to know those statements are based on fact, not on opinion. I rave just as much about Gates and Microsoft as he does; although, now I have quieted down a lot because Apple has been making a major comeback in recent years, and Microsoft is well aware of it. I hope Gates lives long enough to be put in the position in which he once put Apple, when he stole their idea, marketed it as "Windows" and licensed it to Apple's competition (cut-rate PC companies).

Since PC companies in the 1980s and 1990s were selling "IBM compatible" computers, people naturally felt "safer" buying any computer that was associated with that "famous IBM logo." The operating system was merely an afterthought for most first-time computer buyers at that time. Apple, the little upstart company with a masterpiece of an operating system (and which had been the first company to mass market the personal computer) didn't stand a chance against the big-name (cut-rate) discount companies with cheap metal boxes using a shoddily constructed imitation operating system. The average buyer had no idea. They only saw that "IBM compatible" tag, and that's all they cared about. Bill Gates is the traitor who ripped off the little company (a company that truly believed in selling a quality product and user experience) and licensed its secret to the big discount profit makers.

I have this thing wherein I don't believe in rewarding criminals by buying their products. That belief is even easier to maintain when the criminal is selling a product that is far inferior to the original. Yes, I know that hundreds of millions (probably billions) of people are completely used to using Windows and feel totally at home with it. That's understandable, but it is not a good enough reason not to try something else. They just need to realize that there might be a bit of "unlearning" to do in the process.

FC: "...All I hear is 'Blah blah Mac blah blah blah…' and my eyes roll back in my head."

Me: :-) Please answer this question. Which one of you is more familiar with the other person's preferred platform? Do you have more experience with the Mac platform, or does he have more experience with the Windows platform? I'm willing to go out on a limb here and guess that he has more experience with Windows because this is a Windows world. If that is so, then is it possible that he might know what he is talking about when he trashes Windows and praises the Mac?

FC: "My problem with using a Mac is that because I learned how to do everything first on a PC, doing it on a Mac seems backward and unnatural."

Me: I understand what you're saying, and, I'm sure you would agree that it's merely a matter of perspective. However, that which came first should not be considered "backward" and "unnatural." The Mac operating system came first -- in January 1984; therefore, it is forward and natural :-). Windows 3.0 came second -- in 1991, after Microsoft had struggled for seven years to disguise an arcane DOS operating system with a Mac-like "look and feel" (like putting lipstick on a pig). Therefore, it is backward and unnatural. As is the case with that gravel road, you've just gotten used to it.

FC: "I don’t enjoy things that make me feel stupid."

Me: First, you are married to a Mac user! Have him teach you! That is the perfect way to kill two birds with one stone: 1.) You will learn how to use a Mac (discovering that it is far easier than you think), and 2.) You and your husband will have yet another excellent excuse to do something together. A side benefit of No. 2 (at least I imagine it might turn out this way) is: Since he is teaching you how to use a Mac, he would almost certainly be far less vocal about them (at least in an angry way) than he presently is. Part of his vocal side might just have to do with your seeming reluctance to take him seriously and to see if he possibly has a point.

Second, you are a medical physicist who is studying to take the ABR exam. You are certainly not "stupid," and you are also quite obviously not unwilling to learn complicated things. That said, learning how to use a Mac is the exact opposite of complicated.

Furthermore, if you buy a Mac that can use both operating systems side by side, you could slide back and forth between the two operating systems whenever no one is "looking." You could do your "serious" work on the Windows side and, whenever the spirit moves you, you could jump to the Mac side and just play around a little and explore. Pretty soon, you will find fewer and fewer reasons to return to the Windows side. I say this because it has been the case with the vast majority of former Windows users I've taught in recent years.

FC: "Plus there are some things I just don’t know how to do yet on a Mac..."

Me: In the past 18 years, I've taught a lot of Windows users (and beginners) to use Macs. I've also read many testimonials of Windows users who have switched to Macs. The thing I have found to be true at least 90 percent of the time is the fact that most tasks are so simple on the Mac that Windows users cannot figure out how to do them. They are convinced that there must be a "hard way to do it" (they aren't consciously thinking in those exact terms, though), so they spend a long time trying to find the hard way, when, in the end, the task could have been completed with a mouse click or two. I'm sure your husband will agree with me.

FC: "I get frustrated trying to locate an appropriate application for something so simple it would take me two minutes on a PC.

Me: I'm not really sure if you are talking only about locating the applications or if you are also referring to the tasks for which you would use them once you have found them. If it is the former, we will have to agree to disagree. Application storage on a Windows computer is incredibly confusing. I used to have to try to teach people how to use Windows computers when I worked at the local public library. It was a miserable experience. When I did find the appropriate application to do what they (or I) wanted, it could barely do one-fourth of what an equivalent Mac application could do.

The only "drawback" for Windows users and beginners when it comes to using Macs is the fact that you can store many applications anywhere you please (many are automatically installed in the Applications folder, but most 3rd-party apps may be stored anywhere the users chooses). Most computer users are neither organized nor tidy (the same is true in regular life). They end up storing some apps in very strange places (either on purpose or by accident), and then they end up blaming the computer for their own lack of organizational skills. I'm not saying that is the case with you, because you don't even own a Mac.

FC: "I’m sure that will get better the more time I spend using PDM’s Mac."

Me: Once again, does he have an Intel Mac? If so, maybe he would install Windows on it for you

FC: "In spite of our significant difference of opinion on computers, PDM and I get along very well and enjoy spending time together."

Me: "Will wonders never cease?" ;-)

FC: "We are best friends and that one thing will smooth over an awful lot of irritating differences, like his near-constant grumbling about traffic and vocal Mac superiority complex."

Me: Ask yourself why he does it? Does he do it for his health? Of course not. Does he do it to annoy you? I'm sure that's the last thing he would wish to do. Something legitimate must be motivating him to speak about Mac superiority constantly. You would think I would be more "agnostic" with all my years of experience on both platforms. But I'm not. The more I use Windows computers, the more I never want to use them again.

There is one other possible reason for your husband's vocal nature. I know it is true of me. You should ask him. From 1988 to 1996, I was critical of Windows computers and of Bill Gates, but I had nothing but my own opinion and experiences on which to base my personal preference. During that time, almost every Windows user I knew was incredibly insulting of the Macintosh platform (calling them "toys," etc.). As angry as their arrogance made me, I couldn't argue technical details because I would not have known what I was talking about. I just defended my choice and grew angrier and angrier at them for their condescending attitude. Then I discovered the internet, and soon thereafter I found endless facts (independent studies, etc.) to back me up. I began returning the insults to those condescending, insulting Windows users with a vengeance, mostly in an effort to shut them up before they even had a chance to begin attacking me. I discovered the best way to deal with them was to beat them at their own game. If any of them ever brought the topic up, I immediately took the offensive. There was no better way to kill a condescending smug attitude than to attack fast and hard and to act absolutely certain of myself. I also backed up my certainty with indisputable facts, because I finally knew what I was talking about on the technical side. I was the oppressed getting even with the oppressor for years of mistreatment, and it felt great. I'm sure the same is true of millions of other Mac users too. After a while, we just got sick of being ridiculed, especially when we were using the superior product. It's like North Koreans criticizing Canadians (for example) for practicing democracy. The astounding thing is that the North Koreans actually believe what they are saying.

FC: "...and my ever-growing shoe collection and refusal to ever cook anything."

Me: "Not even a frozen dinner? ;-)

FC: "I hope we will spend many more happy years together, during which I can tune out all that crap he says about how his Mac is better than my PC."

Me: Be a diplomat. As much as it galls you, try to take a genuine interest in what he is saying. As I wrote earlier, I think he would calm down quite a bit if you were to do this.