Software That Just Won't Shut Up
The mental state that the psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls "flow"
can be genuinely magical. There is nothing quite like the "deep enjoyment" of
losing yourself in an experience, of becoming one with your work or hobby or
sport or...excuse me, here's a message from my Software That Just Won't Shut
Up Good luck trying to focus, with today's interrupting apps pressing for
your attention.
The mental state that the psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls "flow"
can be genuinely magical. There is nothing quite like the "deep enjoyment" of
losing yourself in an experience, of becoming one with your work or hobby or
sport or...excuse me, here's a message from my
Anti-spyware program, proud to grant my machine yet another clean bill of
health.
What was I was saying? Oh, yeah, the state of flow is...wait a minute, some
e-mail here. Only spam. And...hang on, the antivirus program is announcing that
it has just updated itself. Glad to hear it.
Flow? All of a sudden every programmer alive seems to think it's fine and
dandy to interrupt you with news of some trivial incident or meaningless
nonevent. Pop-up ads are bad enough; now their equivalents have found their way
into stuff that you've paid for to work behind the scenes, not dance on the
table and proclaim its glory.
In the old days your antivirus program might have been stupid enough to ask
you whether you wanted to eliminate a virus or merely quarantine it--as though
you wanted to maintain your own personal collection. Now it brags that it has
successfully maintained itself, repelled an attack, inspected and approved an
e-mail attachment, or discovered that your antivirus subscription will expire in
six months--or maybe that it's standing at the ready in the background. Excuse
me, but all of that is business as usual. How about interrupting me only when
there's a real problem?
Maybe it's just the influence of the most flow-busting software ever
made--instant messaging, which I have banished from my PC--but feckless
interruption is now a way of life. Windows Vista's User Account Control
safeguard nags you every time you do anything that might conceivably in some
alternative universe harm your machine but in the real world is almost always
benign. Memo to Windows and every other program on the planet: Shut up!
If a spyware scan reveals no problems, don't bother informing me, please. If
something like Adobe Acrobat Reader can get updates on its own, have it do
precisely that without bothering me after the first time I click OK. Instead of
waiting for my permission to perform some grand act that might slow my computer
to a crawl, figure out a way to do it when the machine is idle, and don't force
me to reboot--unless doing otherwise would be the first step toward nuclear
winter. Simple rule: Don't pipe up unless it's really, really important.
If you're a firewall developer, use a silently updated internal database to
figure out which programs should be permitted to phone home from my machines and
which should not. And at this point, I'd rather not even hear that telltale ping
that lets me know a new e-mail message has arrived. I'll check the inbox on my
own schedule, thanks.
The marketing idea behind many such interruptions is no doubt the notion that
reminding you of the importance of these ought-to-be-mostly-unseen helpers will
keep you shelling out for new versions or subscriptions. But after the tenth or
hundredth annoyance, what it really does is make you wonder whether there's a
more low-key alternative that can do the same thing. Alas, now that programmers
and marketers have become as bent on undeserved attention as ill-bred
five-year-olds, the very concept of software quietude seems to be growing
antiquated.
Flow? No mo'....