InformationWeek

May 24, 1999

Secret CIO:
My Exceptional Computer

Replacing an old computer is an enlightening experience, but once is certainly enough

By Herbert W. Lovelace

he experience of replacing your old computer is enlightening--and once is enough.

Cindy says I buy new gadgets so frequently that we never have to worry about them being out of warranty. She may be right in most cases, but one exception is the notebook computer I use at work. That machine is an integral part of my office existence. It sits at my right hand, serving as a repository for the information I need to do my job. It contains my calendar, brings me the E-mail that I love to hate, and travels with me on my sojourns throughout the business world. My computer is like a faithful pet. It may not be fashionable, and you might not buy it if you saw it in a shop window, but I understand how it will react to every situation and it knows just how I want things to be presented.

So it wasn't without some trepidation that I said OK when Bruce Madison, the head of our desktop-support group, stopped in to remind me that it was long past time to relinquish my trusty notebook for replacement with the latest whiz-bang-box-cum-advanced-operating system-and-new-E-mail-system, in our efforts to ensure year 2000 compliance and corporate conformity.

Bruce is as persuasive as he is technically competent. He pointed out it wouldn't be good for morale--or the image of our organization--if the guy who set the rules didn't abide by them. Won over by his logic, I agreed--but only if he promised to let me customize the machine to suit my, no doubt, unique requirements. Reluctantly, he agreed not to lock down the desktop, and we negotiated a delivery date.

The day of reckoning arrived, my files were transferred to the new machine, and I was quickly back in business. I had no problem using any of the new tools, and the instructions I had received anticipated the questions I would otherwise have had. No wonder I was hearing good things about the upgrade team. I left for the day, my new friend in my briefcase, feeling quite good about the professionalism of our IT organization. Like an ungrateful cad, I didn't grieve for the old notebook that had given me such faithful service. The sleek lines of the new one, its bright screen, the capacity of its hard disk, and the speed of its processor filled my thoughts.

For several days, I was content. Then, one evening, I decided to modify the tool bar on my word processor. No problem. Encouraged by my success, I moved on to the next object of my curiosity, the infrared port. I pressed F2 when the machine booted and entered the forbidden world of the setup program. When I restarted the machine, I got this strange message about checking COM4. The rest of the evening is a blur. I remember Cindy sighing, saying she was going to bed and, when I said I'd be up in a few minutes, muttering something like, "I've heard that before."

The next morning, bleary-eyed, I sheepishly asked Bruce if I could bother him for a few minutes. He listened intently as I tried to relate what I had done. I couldn't quite remember everything--I just knew that I could no longer access my E-mail and that nothing would print. Bruce smiled and sighed (it could have been my imagination, but it sounded a lot like the one Cindy uttered), sat down at my desk, and within 15 minutes had everything back in order.

I thanked him profusely and rushed to my first meeting of the day. Later, I cautiously tried to access the system to find out what I had done wrong, so as to learn from the experience. For some reason, I could no longer get into the setup program. To this day, I haven't mentioned to Bruce that he inadvertently relocked the desktop and, strangely enough, he's never asked me if I've made any more changes to my computer, which now works exceptionally well.

Herbert W. Lovelace is the CIO at a multibillion-dollar international company. Herb practices his day job under an alias and has changed the names of colleagues to protect the guilty. Send him E-mail at lovelace@home.com. He'll provide real answers--and whimsical comments--to your questions on InformationWeek Online at www.informationweek.com.