Microsoft is the United States of the computer world. Everyone relies on it, and everyone resents it. OK, this may be an overstatement in each case. But there is more than a joke similarity between Microsoft’s and America’s burdens. Each enjoys the benefits of its dominance but also has assumed the thankless job of maintaining a complex international order. No one loves a hegemon.
In a few weeks Microsoft is scheduled to release new versions of the two products that are the basis of its superpower role. These are its Windows operating system, whose upcoming version was known as “Longhorn” through its many years of development and will go on sale as Windows Vista; and the Office “suite” of programs, including such stalwarts as Word, Outlook, PowerPoint, and Excel. Windows and Office are what make Microsoft so profitable—they are believed in the industry to account for most of the company’s roughly $12 billion in profit—but they are also what have made its product-development cycles so drawn-out and ponderous. Google, eBay, or Yahoo can tinker with their internal code, or float new programs on an experimental basis, and no one else’s software breaks as a result. But tens of thousands of hardware and software companies design their products to match Microsoft’s announced standards, and hundreds of millions of users assume that the programs will work on any oddly configured computer in any corner of the world. Microsoft cannot do anything by surprise—or very fast.
"Inside the Leviathan" (February 2000)
A short and stimulating brush with Microsoft's corporate culture. By James Fallows
The team in charge of Office turns out a new version of its programs every three years or so. (Disclosure: in 1999 I worked on the team preparing “Office 10,” as it was known inside the company. The current standard, Office 2003, was known internally as “Office 11,” and the forthcoming Office 2007 is “Office 12.”) At least half of each product cycle, eighteen months of the three years, is given to testing the software and looking for bugs.
The effort to design Longhorn/Vista has been so vast, complex, and frequently delayed that it has gone on for half as long as Google has existed as a company; it will probably be the last version of Windows to be released as one comprehensive offering. From now on, Microsoft is expected to release smaller, more targeted upgrades for specific markets.
Of Microsoft’s two new products, Vista and Office, Vista is by far the more important, but oddly it presents users with a less interesting set of choices. Vista is important for Microsoft as a source of new revenue, and it is important to the entire technology industry in the same way. The debut of a new operating system usually leads to a surge in PC sales, as people who have been waiting to upgrade buy machines with the new software installed. Since each version of Windows has required more memory, faster processing chips, and better video displays to show off its new features, component makers like Intel and AMD prosper when Microsoft puts a new Windows on sale.
But ordinary PC users don’t have to spend much time thinking about Windows: when you buy a new computer, of course you should get one with Windows Vista installed. And until you buy a new computer, it’s not worth the time and cost to upgrade. You should get Vista the next time you buy a new PC, because it will already be installed, tweaked, and configured—a job in itself. Also, the minute a new operating system appears, its predecessors start becoming obsolete, so there’s no sense in looking for minor savings by buying computers preloaded with software (like today’s otherwise admirable Windows XP) on which the clock is ticking.
But you shouldn’t (in most cases) upgrade until you get that computer, because your current system probably can’t show off what the new Windows does best. The problem with upgrading is not so much the difficulty of the process. With great nervousness born of past botched upgrades, I put a CD containing the Vista upgrade code into one of my machines—and it worked! After an hour or so of churning and processing, my desktop showed all the same programs and all the same settings, only with a different operating system underneath. But because that computer is two and a half years old, Vista’s most advanced and interesting features simply could not run on it. (Vista installs in an intelligent, modular fashion, adding as many components as a particular PC can handle.)
Ninety percent of the sex appeal of Vista is its new “Aero” desktop theme. This offers convenient icon-size gadgets on the desktop—a clock, a calendar—like those of a Mac. Its overall look is far sleeker than any previous Windows incarnation and, gasp, seems even more modern than the Mac. One example: when you have a large number of programs running, it can be hard to remember which is which. But if you run your mouse along tabs at the bottom of the Vista screen, a thumbnail version of each window comes up, as if you’re riffling through a pack of cards, and lets you quickly find what you’re looking for.