Licensing
I'm having a rough time with a software upgrade. It's not rough in the sense that I have a learning curve ahead of me (I do) or that the software didn't install properly (it did). I'm having a rough time because there's emotional baggage on this one I can't seem to ditch.
A little history:
When I first bought this program it was going to completely change the way I do one of my hobbies. I can't describe it more clearly than that because it would be a dead givaway what software I'm talking about and what my hobby is. I'm unwilling to do either. I like the people who write and sell the software, and have never had better end-user support than I've had on this. Nonetheless I've had a rough time with it.
The software was distributed as a demo that you then unlock with a license key. That way if you decide you don't want the software you can tell the distributor before your key is mailed out, and you get your money back with no questions asked. It's a neat system. However, I was not made aware of this when I bought the software.
The learning curve was tremendously steep, and it took me a month to get to a point where I felt even remotely comfortable with it. During this time my life was falling to pieces. In a very real sense my hobbies were the one strand of sanity I had left to cling to. I loved my job, but the people there hated me. I loved my family but there were times when I knew no one wanted me at home. I came to hate myself and question whether I had any redeeming qualities. That I had a hobby where I created things made me hope that at least that was worth something.
So the day came that I tried to use the software to really do something, to really create something. It said my demo license had expired, and it locked up. This was a Saturday. I could do nothing. So I quietly left the room where everyone was expectantly waiting for me to do something, walked to my bedroom, and tried to strangle myself. I failed.
It sounds trite, but please understand this was my last strand of self-belief: that I could create. When the software locked up it was as if someone had snipped the strand and said, "No. No you can't." I couldn't even kill myself properly. There was nothing redeeming left at all. Nothing.
It wasn't until Wednesday the next week that I got my license key. By then I barely had re-kindled an interest in living. I certainly had no interest in my hobbies any more. I died that day. My body just kept breathing.
Years passed, situations changed, and again I became interested in life. By degrees I became interested in my hobbies again. I upgraded my software, but still there were oddities with the licensing. Terrified I would do something rash or collapse into despair again, I stayed in very careful contact with the distributor until the licensing was solved and I was up and running.
A few weeks ago I did a major upgrade on the software. My license key showed up at the last minute. I installed it before the demo timed out, but for some reason the license didn't take. I could feel the walls collapsing again. I posted on a support forum and was told in no uncertain terms that to post licensing questions to the support forum was a violation.
How can you tell people at a software company how much of a toll these things take from you? How can you explain so they don't think you're stark raving mad? For that matter, how do you convince yourself that you're not? I've tried to put a good face on things, but already I feel myself sinking. It took me three years to begin to believe I could create again. And again a voice is saying, "No. No, you can't."
I'm hoping there's a happy post-script to this. The same person I dealt with last time emailed me and told me she knew what the problem was, and that she could fix it. I truly hope so. I'm in tatters at the moment.
A little history:
When I first bought this program it was going to completely change the way I do one of my hobbies. I can't describe it more clearly than that because it would be a dead givaway what software I'm talking about and what my hobby is. I'm unwilling to do either. I like the people who write and sell the software, and have never had better end-user support than I've had on this. Nonetheless I've had a rough time with it.
The software was distributed as a demo that you then unlock with a license key. That way if you decide you don't want the software you can tell the distributor before your key is mailed out, and you get your money back with no questions asked. It's a neat system. However, I was not made aware of this when I bought the software.
The learning curve was tremendously steep, and it took me a month to get to a point where I felt even remotely comfortable with it. During this time my life was falling to pieces. In a very real sense my hobbies were the one strand of sanity I had left to cling to. I loved my job, but the people there hated me. I loved my family but there were times when I knew no one wanted me at home. I came to hate myself and question whether I had any redeeming qualities. That I had a hobby where I created things made me hope that at least that was worth something.
So the day came that I tried to use the software to really do something, to really create something. It said my demo license had expired, and it locked up. This was a Saturday. I could do nothing. So I quietly left the room where everyone was expectantly waiting for me to do something, walked to my bedroom, and tried to strangle myself. I failed.
It sounds trite, but please understand this was my last strand of self-belief: that I could create. When the software locked up it was as if someone had snipped the strand and said, "No. No you can't." I couldn't even kill myself properly. There was nothing redeeming left at all. Nothing.
It wasn't until Wednesday the next week that I got my license key. By then I barely had re-kindled an interest in living. I certainly had no interest in my hobbies any more. I died that day. My body just kept breathing.
Years passed, situations changed, and again I became interested in life. By degrees I became interested in my hobbies again. I upgraded my software, but still there were oddities with the licensing. Terrified I would do something rash or collapse into despair again, I stayed in very careful contact with the distributor until the licensing was solved and I was up and running.
A few weeks ago I did a major upgrade on the software. My license key showed up at the last minute. I installed it before the demo timed out, but for some reason the license didn't take. I could feel the walls collapsing again. I posted on a support forum and was told in no uncertain terms that to post licensing questions to the support forum was a violation.
How can you tell people at a software company how much of a toll these things take from you? How can you explain so they don't think you're stark raving mad? For that matter, how do you convince yourself that you're not? I've tried to put a good face on things, but already I feel myself sinking. It took me three years to begin to believe I could create again. And again a voice is saying, "No. No, you can't."
I'm hoping there's a happy post-script to this. The same person I dealt with last time emailed me and told me she knew what the problem was, and that she could fix it. I truly hope so. I'm in tatters at the moment.
posted by pencil at 9:26 AM
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