Windows 8

Yesterday was a big day.  A really big day.

No, I’m not talking about the anniversary of the Treaty of Ripon in 1640.

Nor am I talking about the death of Alfred the Great in 899.

No, I’m talking about something far more important.  Something that will probably touch the lives of very single person that reads this blog.  Yes, that means YOU, random person that found this through a Google search for McAlister’s Potatoes!  You!

I’m talking, of course, about Windows.

Windows.

Eight.

That’s right, yesterday, Microsoft launched what they are calling the eighth version of their computer operating system.  It’s actually version six.something of Windows NT, but who’s counting, right?  

Well, I have to admit that I was actually pretty interested in seeing what Microsoft came up with this time. 

You see, for 17 years, Windows has looked like this:

Retro!

That’s Windows 95.  It looks pretty much like Windows 7 does, when you get down to it.  It’s familiar and comforting (well, if you like Windows).  You know how to use it.  You know what it does.  It’s a big mess, for sure, but it’s a comfortable mess, like a messy desk that you know where everything is.

As of Friday Microsoft dumped all that mess in the garbage.  After 17 years, they are trying something radically different.  Are you ready, readers?  Because this is some scary, scary stuff.

Boo!

Look at this.  Colors!  Tiles! Flatness! Stylized Text!

I had to see this for my own eyes.  

So yesterday, after work, Megan and I ran over to the local Best Buy to try this out for ourselves.  We made our way into the store, breezing past the over-eager salesmen that wanted to sell us a phone or a camera or some other gadget we don’t need.

There they were:  The Windows 8 computers, all lined up on a row.  HPs, Samsungs, and other PC vendors had new machines out, eager to sell you their (soft)wares.  

We first saw a little laptop with Windows 8 on it.  After a few clicks of the mouse, I knew this would never do.  Windows 8 was meant for touch.  We needed a touch screen computer.

I walked to the back wall, which had all-in-one machines with big, 20-inch screens.  All of them were black with silver accents.  I walked up to the one smack dab in the middle.  This one looked promising! 

I reached out with my finger and tapped on the screen. 

The LCD panel gave under my finger, a shimmering halo of color and light spreading out from my fingertips.

Ooops.

That wasn’t a touchscreen.

My bad?

We moved over two computers to one of HP’s new “Touchsmart” devices, and I immediately began poking and prodding the colorful tiles of Windows 8’s new “It’s not called Metro anymore” interface.

I clicked the mail app and Fwoosh!  In flew the mail.  Oh God, it’s full screen.  

A full 20-inches devoted to email.  Oh God.

My heart started beating a little faster as sweat began pouring down my brow.

Somehow I got back to the start page.  Let’s try something else.  How about Internet Explorer?  I could pull up Apple.com and leave it there. 

Oh God.  Oh God. Oh God.  Another full screen app.  The screen filled with white, with tiny letters informing me that there was no internet connection.

I swiped left and somehow switched back to mail.  

I felt trapped in this new full screen, color-filled world.  Where were my beautiful windows?  How could I see what was going on behind the window I was working in?

I frantically tapped the screen until I found the “desktop” part of the OS, the one that runs all your old Windows applications. Ah.  This is a little better.  

Fwap!  Up popped a big box telling me that I needed to update my virus software.  I tried to make it go away, but it was persistent.  In my frantic poking, I found myself back at the start screen.

Those tiles were starting to burn into my soul.  I couldn’t handle this.  I couldn’t live in this full screen world.  Somehow, it works on a tablet.  But here, I just felt trapped—boxed in and unable to focus.  

I looked over at my wife.  She’s zooming around the interface, clearly having fun.  In a few minutes, she finds Solitaire and begins happily poking away at the cards.  She looks over at me, a big smile on her face.

“I like this!” she says, doing a little dance in the aisle.

I prodded at my own screen some more.  I wanted to just rip the tiles off, to see what was behind them.

“I’m going to walk around a little.”

I wander off, shaken by the experience of Windows 8. The colors.  The tiles.  Full screen.  Five minutes later, Megan finds me in the Apple section, trying to load Scrivener on an 11 inch MacBook Air.

“Are you ok?” she asked, a hint of laughter in her voice.

My eyes were wide.  I stared out into space, trying to focus on the minuscule windows on the MacBook Air in front of me.  Windows.  Familiar little windows.  I can move them and see what’s under them.  They were warm and comforting.  

Not like those evil big tiles, with their full-screen monstrosities and their bright, happy colors.  

I shuddered.  “I feel violated.”  

I looked at Megan and held my disturbed face for a second, my head shaking a little.  This new full-screen thing…I just couldn’t handle it.  It was too much.  

Then I cracked, remembered that I used a Mac anyway, and burst out laughing.

“Well it was kind of cool on the tablet,” I said, “and I did like that one paint app.” 

We walked out of the store, leaving the horror of Windows 8 behind.  

“It’s a nice night out here,” said Megan as we stepped out of the manufactured Best Buy air and into mother nature’s own brand.  

“Yeah, it is,” I said.  “Let’s go home.”

As we were driving out of the parking lot, a family with their young daughter came out of the store.  The father walked ahead, his expression stoic, as his wife dragged their young daughter, who was throwing a tantrum.  

She really was pretty upset, her face red, with tears streaming down her cheeks. She had planted her tiny, pink-shoed feet firmly on the ground and wasn’t going to budge unless her mother dragged her, which she was doing a pretty fair job of.

“I wonder what she’s upset about,” Megan asked.

I looked over at her and smiled.  “Her Dad must have just bought a new computer with Windows 8.”

We laughed as we drove off into the cool dark of the October night.