February 10, 2005
Dear Everyone:
I was supposed to teach a class on how to use the document management system at work this afternoon; but only two people signed up by yesterday, so we cancelled the class. Consequently I was able to spend the afternoon serenely sorting through an old property file that had belonged to Another Company, the one we merged with three years ago.
It’s been a very long time since I actually worked with files. It felt like Old Home Week as I gently, tenderly repaired a 30-year-old carbon copy that had been badly beaten up.
Those of you who are mature enough to remember carbon copies know what I mean. For those of you who weren’t around, allow me to explain.
Once upon a time, before email, before laser printers, before computers, before word processors, letters and memos weren’t printed, they were “typed”. There was a machine called a “typewriter”. The operator placed a sheet (or sheets) of paper into a thing called the roller and wound the paper into position.
The operator would press down on a button called a “key”. This would cause a metal lever, (also called a key) with the corresponding letter, to spring up and strike against an ink-soaked, cloth ribbon, which was positioned directly in front of the roller. The key would strike with enough force to transfer ink from the ribbon onto the paper. As the key returned to its position in the “case”, the roller would move one space to the left, and the ribbon would wind one space over.
If the operator needed to use a capital letter, she (most operators were women) would depress a special key called a “shift”. This would raise the entire case of keys so that the capital letter would be the one to strike the ribbon and paper. If the operator needed to type numerous capital letters, she could choose to depress a “shift lock” which would lock the case in the upper position. This is why small letters are called “lowercase” and capital letters are called “uppercase”.
If duplicate copies of the letter or memo were needed, this was accomplished by sandwiching special sheets of paper coated on one side with “carbon” between blank sheets of paper. When the key struck the ribbon/paper, the force would cause the “carbon” to be transferred onto the blank sheet behind it. This was called a “carbon copy” or “cc”. (By the way, the “carbon” in carbon paper was no more carbon than the “lead” in a pencil is made of real lead.)
As more and more copies were needed, it took more force to transfer the carbon through to the last sheet. So people started using lighter paper called a “flimsy” or “tissue”. It actually was much like the kind of tissue paper used in wrapping gifts these days. And it wasn’t long before some enterprising stationery maker started selling “carbon packs”. These were a group of colored tissue papers with the carbon sheets already sandwiched inside and the whole group held together at the top by a tear-away header strip.
Different colored copies were directed in various ways. The white copy might go back to the person who originated the letter. The yellow copy might become the chronological copy (kept in date order for a few months in case it could not be found any other way than by date). The green copy might become the file copy. And the pink copy might go to the secretary of the boss who liked to read everyone’s correspondence.
All of this typing and copying meant that you could only get through a certain amount paperwork in a given day. In addition, you had to wait for your letter or memo to reach its recipient. This could take days in and of itself. Then it might take several more days for the response to be dictated, typed, proofed and eventually mailed back to you.
Ah, the Good Old Days.
Today, everyone uses email. Responses are virtually instantaneous. People are far more productive. And they’re wearing themselves out in the process.
Getting back to the typewriter: If the operator typed too quickly, as one key was returning to its place in the case, another rising up to strike the ribbon/paper might get caught in a “key jam”. To prevent this from happening, the typewriter manufacturers researched and developed a “keyboard” deliberating designed to make typing more difficult and slow the typist down. This is known as the standard “QWERTY” keyboard, so-called because the letters in the top row of keys, from left to right are Q, W, E, R, T, and Y.
Over time, the manufacturers solved this problem by creating an electronic typewriter that didn’t use keys. Instead it used a metal ball that spun around, striking the ribbon/paper as it went along. The roller and paper remained stationary and the typing ball did the moving. No more key jams. And no more need for the QWERTY keyboard.
One manufacturer even came out with a new typewriter, one with a scientifically designed keyboard that optimized the operator’s time and meant less wear-and-tear on the operator’s hands.
They couldn’t sell it. People who had learned how to type on a QWERTY keyboard didn’t want to have to learn the new one. Even now, decades later, everyone still uses the QWERTY keyboard, the one designed to make typing more difficult. And everyone does their own typing. And with all the QWERTY wear-and-tear.
So now we have a special program on our computers that counts keystrokes (and mouse moves). It even notes if you are a “touch typist” (one who can type without looking at the keyboard) and acts accordingly. (Touch typists tend to go faster than “hunt-and-peck” typists.) This program is designed to “pop up” with a reminder for you to stop typing and take a break when you’ve been working “too hard”.
This is the company’s attempt to reduce Repetitive Stress Injuries (RSI) caused by too much typing. You’d think someone would get the idea to create a program to allow people to opt for the more ergonomic keyboard setup if they were willing to take the time to learn to use it.
Actually, someone did.
Love, as always,
Pete
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