Paul Smith's 'Spaced 1999 Stuff' for Indie Magazine

February 1999.

"I RESIGN!"

Why can't good telesales people stay at the job?

I'm sure you read Decembers Dealers Diary on page 36 of the Indie. This is a carefully worded response to Sparks question about distribution contacts and their migratory habits. In common with everyone except gynaecologists, every job I've done has had both an up side and a down. I like to think of it as the jobs 'Clash' rating after the band of the same name, because it's a question of "should I stay or should I go?" For example:

A long time ago I sold PCs and 'macs for Ryman the Stationers, where the good side was meeting and working with my beautiful girlfriend, Judith. The downside was a Manageress who was a Nazi Bitch Queen from Hell. After nine months the cons had outweighed the pros and so I resigned. And it's just as well, or I'd still be there, selling calculators and mobile 'phones and putting up with a continuous steaming river of bullshit for £11k p.a.

Later I had a job in telesales, a bit like the one I've got now. On the up side I enjoyed the work, had a great relationship with customers and colleagues and earned reasonable money. Without blowing my own trumpet too much, I was doing what I'm good at, being a proactive, friendly, well informed, accurate and entertaining account manager. On the down side, the beverage machine sometimes ran out of Diet Coke™ and the sandwich van was often late. Result: Happiness. However… I failed to hit target for a couple of months, which ain't good. Had I lost my silky sales skills or were there other factors at play? Had our move of warehouse lost me some local business? Had a serious lack of stock suppressed my sales figures? Had a change of management dented my confidence in the future of the company? Had an unfeasible sales target caused a crisis of motivation? I thought so. It was a fateful day when I walked into that office, explained the reasons why I was having a problem hitting my figures and asked for a little bit of help. It wasn't forthcoming. Call me crazy but I need some enthusiasm to do the job. That enthusiasm can be bought with a nice pay cheque at the end of the month or by doing satisfying and enjoyable work, better still both. Perhaps I'm greedy (a bad thing in a salesman?) because I wasn't doing the job for my basic, I was doing it for the commission, and I like to think targets are meant to be aimed for and with hard work reached. Being bottom of the '% of target' pile wasn't doing anything good for my professional pride either. The Clash rating looked shaky, so I quickly evaluated my position. I wasn't going to earn any bonus for a bit and I'd stopped enjoying myself. IT jobs in the south -east aren't hard to come by for someone with my experience, as reflected by the number of customers who'd playfully tried to head-hunt me. I had a big, fat bank account, which from a height looked remarkably like a safety net… Then I realised sometimes it's the devil you don't know that's the more attractive prospect.

So in my best Prisoner voice, I resigned.

Not without regret though. I would miss my colleagues and customers (who I'd like to thank for their kind words of support), people I regard as friends. I didn't like doing it. I don't enjoy disruption and hassle. I'm a fighter, not a quitter, but some fights you win by walking away from them. As one cliché closes another opens and a world of opportunities awaited me as I drove home. Once there, I was gassed by some undertakers and awoke in a strange world where no one would make eye contact, or talk to me, a bit like a Tiny store. I was chased by a giant white ball and everyone referred to me by my direct-dial 'phone number. But it wasn't real. I wasn't a number anymore, I was a free man! The next morning I vowed to cut hallucinogenic drugs right out of my diet. Later that same day I'd done two interviews and had two firm job offers, and I hadn't even had a chance to re-type my CV. So here's your answer to why your sales contacts change so often. The bad ones are killed and eaten, which is fair enough. The good ones make it look easy which can be a two edged sword. The core problem, as I see it, is if you think it's prices or brand names that sell IT products perhaps you're forgetting that it's sales people that sell them.

My advice to satisfied retailers is if your distribution contact is darn good and you want to keep them, don't be shy, tell them. Then write to (or e-mail) their guv'nor, just to let them know why their firm is getting your valuable business. Everyone likes a pat on the back and so will smile and be happy and you'll get a nice warm feeling inside. The tangible benefit is when your contact loves you they'll be less inclined to screw you on price, proving that a little appreciation goes a long way in this cynical business. To fellow account managers I say loyalty to your firm is important because you're being trusted with valuable customers. Stick it out through the hard times with a smile and a laugh and all the world will be yours. If you're good, you'll inevitably climb the ladder of success, which is usually A Good Thing. However don't be blind to opportunities beyond your current employer because maybe grass that looks greener actually is. If you realise you've got more in common with Gynaecologists than you thought, because you're both working with a bunch of [word removed on legal advice] then don't put up with it. Quality of life is everything and job satisfaction, as well as remuneration, has a part to play.

Next Month: Back to light-hearted japes and fluffy whimsy a subject close to retailers hearts…. Retailers spleens.

Paul 'happy bunny' Smith is a Business Development Manager. No, really.

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March 1999.

The Moral Maze.

The moral maze may sound like a cheesy Channel Five game show hosted by everyone's favourite guy, Graham Norton, but it's actually the serious subject of this months Soapbox. Following the on going Pornography theme in The Indie (see the October 1998 issue on saucy software and splattered across every letters page since), I'm going to research the dark underbelly of this complex subject on your behalf, strictly in the name of quality journalism you understand. We're all adults here, aren't we? (I can hear giggling at the back). If not I suggest you stop reading now, or else risk seeing something that may disturb you, for this is a subject for much moralising. A subject to question individual freedoms and also one for hypocrisy. You already know that PC's and Porn go together like politics and corruption. The Internet is a pervert's paradise. There's no escaping the fact that if you bring a dirty book home from Holland then customs will catch you, confiscate it and do a cavity search for more. Download a ton of Hot Dutch Tottie from the web, however, and no one will ever know. Video clips, hi-res. pictures, chat rooms, even text files all offer Onanistic pleasures (I'm told). Now the home groan (sorry, grown) product is also becoming popular, in the same way video cameras aren't just for videoing children's birthday parties. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge. The following is virtually a true story, only the names and events have been changed to protect the (and the not so) innocent and also protect any future business I might enjoy with a man we'll refer to only as 'Bob'...

Byte the Bullet Computers is a customer of mine, fronted by the wild 'n' crazy Bob. Whilst enjoying our weekly chat, (which involved The League of Gentlemen and the hole in the Ozone layer, and what these things mean to the independent computer retailer, interspersed with my asking if he'd like to buy a product or two and him replying no) he mentioned a recent incident. A regular and well-liked customer, who we'll call 'Mr Customer', had brought his PC in for a Ram and Processor upgrade. While in his possession, Bob, being a thorough chap, gave the machine a quick service, to the tune of a scandisk and defrag. A directory name caught his eye as it flicked past, as they sometimes do. Inquisitive Bob had a quick peek on the machines hard-drive. This is the sort of peek which involves looking for hidden files and folders, you understand. Perhaps you're tutting. Well, if he'd found Gary Glitter (allegedly) type pictures and called the police he'd have been hailed a hero for spotting a dangerous pervert. However what Bob found was of an altogether different nature. Having sold 'Mr Customer' a digital camera some months earlier Bob wasn't entirely shocked to discover undraped pictures of 'Mrs Customer' in a hidden directory. After all, why else do people buy Polaroid and other instant cameras? (Or is that just me?) Anyhow, he waded through increasingly continental bitmaps until a growing feeling of Peeping Tom-hood and mild (only mild, mind) self-disgust made him switch off. After lunch, the day was quiet and boredom, that root of much mischief, raised its ugly head. Being by nature curious (in both senses of the word) Bob fired the tower up again in search of voyeuristic pleasures. In later pictures Mrs Customer appeared to be a regular purchaser at Ann Summers parties. Eventually Bob turned the PC off with an acute feeling of embarrassment. At least I think he said he was embarrassed. By this time his recounting of the incident down the 'phone was being fitted around uncontrollable laughter. Of course when Mr Customer came into the shop to collect his upgraded machine he may have noticed how Bob was avoiding eye contact and suppressing a grin. Or he may not. Afterwards, Bob felt like a dirty old man. So he went out and found a dirty old- No, that isn't right. He reasoned that if Mr Customer hadn't been so careless the incident would never have happened, which just might be another way of saying 'I feel a bit guilty and want to blame someone else'.

I've spoken to a number of my customers about this issue. The response has been everything from frank admissions to total rejection. One chuckling shop owner told me thorough drive checks were frequently made and anything 'good' saved to a company drive for further (private) enjoyment. I was told, "If you send a book to be rebound, you can expect someone to read it, can't you? It's just human nature to be curious". (Is your reaction suitably disapproving?) The tale was recounted of a female customer who was complaining of too little drive space. The Pc had two gigabytes of the husbands saucy Internet sauced images tucked away on it. Although the shop owner hushed that incident up in the name of matrimonial harmony, she added had they discovered anything illegal it would naturally have been reported to the police. An ex-engineer, now purchaser for a large firm that had, in the past, reported at least one customer to the police explained his companies' policy was one of vigilance. If an icon was marked with a suggestive title it would be investigated, but otherwise the customers data was sacrosanct. He also made the point that if looking for images is acceptable, where do you stop? Document files could also easily include material which under the obscene publications act would be illegal to own. A third retailer dismissed the idea of inspecting customers drives as 'weird'. He said nothing like that happened in his shop and any member of staff caught doing anything unnecessary to a customers data would be instantly dismissed as that would be a clear betrayal of the customers trust. He added that after Mr Glitters (allegedly) well publicised downfall, any pervert with half a brain would back up their files and erase them prior to any work being done on their machine. Logically he felt that if he were to find something unacceptable on a customers Pc he would be placing himself in a moral dilemma. Like a burglar who discovers a murder victim, he shouldn't have been there in the first place.

So let's have a quick vote. Hands up those of you who wouldn't investigate a directory named 'iffy pics'.

Thought so.

This months product news is on another sticky subject. Adhesive labels. Most of you are dealing in CDR and CDRW drives these days which is good as the market for these products is still growing fast and as prices continue to fall they'll only get more popular. However, the ideal add-on sale (apart from media) is still slipping past many of you. I refer, of course, to the Pressit CD Labeller. Here we have a foolproof product with built in repeat sales in the shape of extra blank labels. The idea is you can effectively label, decorate and generally groovy-up home-made CDs so they look far more professional than simple hand written notes, in a way which centres the label properly to avoid drive damaging vibration. I've also heard that some CD marker pens contain chemicals that can damage the recording over time, which is something else to avoid. To sum up: If you sell CDR drives, sell these! (Now available through us, naturally.)

Paul Smith is available for Weddings and Bar Mitszars.

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April 1999.

Everyone has their place.

The world has a function for everyone. Smart, witty people end up as independent computer retailers while dumb, dull ones work for local councils designing one way systems. People without charisma get to work for Post Office Counters Ltd and those without a soul become traffic wardens. Beautiful women become models, while ones with more ambition become Prime Minister. Tiny men become Jockeys. Everyone has his or her place and mine is behind a phone. You've seen the picture; I have the perfect face for telesales. This month though I've been out of the office quite a bit making a customer visit or two. In doing so my level of respect for Road Reps has gone up enormously. It's a battlefield out there! No wonder they all drive at 100mph in their Mondeo's, they're just trying to get as much horrendous traffic behind them as possible. The next time a rep arrives breathless and wild eyed at your door an hour after he was supposed to, don't ask him why he's made you wait for him, just put your arm around his shoulders and usher him to some sweet tea instead. He'll thank you for it. Continuing the 'Functional People' theme, here's some broader 'industry comment'. Picture the scene…

"Ah come in Mr….?"
"They call me Brusier"
"Well, Bruiser, please take a seat"
"Thanks, that'll look nice in my squalid council flat."
"Er, right. So, just a few questions… I see you have a few tattoos…"
"Over 40% of my body… mostly naked girls, skulls, Bulldogs and Union Jack flags, which is odd, see, because I hate the Welsh and Scottish with a passion."
"The 'cut here' one is very effective. Ok, Do you have a criminal record?"
"Nothin' at all except for GBH, ABH, wounding with intent to kill and a string of petty thefts."
"Aha. I'll just make a note of that…. Previous employment?"
"I did a paper round for a week when I was 12"
"Why did you stop?"
"I just couldn't be arsed"
"And what have you done in the twenty years since?"
"I used to steal high performance cars and thrash them… and I've eaten a lot of high cholesterol food."
"I see, I see. What about your hobbies?"
"I enjoy being rude, bloody-minded and displaying an aggressive attitude."
"Lovely, and tell me Bruiser, why do you want this job?"
"I've always wanted to miss handle and lose valuable packages containing fragile, expensive things. Or steal them. I really want a job with a long lunch break, long tea breaks and long fag breaks… and I still want to moan endlessly about it."
"You seem ideal! Congratulations Bruiser, you've passed the interview with flying colours! Welcome to Zappy Couriers!"
"Does that mean I can drive seven and a half tons of overloaded truck in a manner which displays utter contempt for other road users and total disregard for human life?"
"Yes indeed!"
"Me mum will be so proud!"

Suppliers are bastards, aren't they? We buy a special line in for one particular trade customer that we have to source in the UK. I placed my order with a large, well known distie on Friday at 3pm, expecting delivery on the next Monday, which I was told wouldn't be a problem. I called my customer and confirmed I'd ship to him for a Tuesday delivery… Is this sounding like a familiar story? Well, when I called on Monday at 4pm to ask when the courier might call, my sales contact denied all knowledge of the order and then changed his story. "Your stock has definitely gone, I'll check where it is with the courier." I chased him again at 5 o'clock and he said the couriers hadn't got back to him but he'd call them again and definitely, definitely call me back before 5.30… Half past eleven on Tuesday morning he called to tell me my stuff had been miss-directed to Barnsley and I'd have it Wednesday, 10am sharp. I called my customer who, by this time, was getting a bit anxious. I explained the whole sorry story and he being a relaxed and reasonable chap agreed Thursday-to-him would have to do. Wednesday mid day I'd had enough and called my suppliers in a foul mood. Fortunately for him my usual contact was out, so I spoke to a helpful salesgirl instead. "Oh", she said, "It's still sat in our Warehouse. It's down as a customer collection. Isn't that what you wanted?" I turned Perqual Haream then Smoke On The Water. (A whiter shade of pale, then deep purple). "Is it bollox!?" I exclaimed. We sent one of our reps up with a van to collect the goods and deliver them direct to my customer too. The whole episode could have made me look like a 'furry-friend' in my customers eyes if he wasn't an understanding bloke who trusts me to give the best service to him that I can. I've written to the sales manager at my supplier to outline my treatment and why I've been seriously considering avoiding doing any business with them in future. I was tempted to include an invoice for 200 miles worth of Diesel too. But I know one bad apple does't spoil an entire orchard, so I'll still buy from them through a nice lady called Claire. I also E-Mailed my ex-account manager there with a Turettes Syndrome style note, expressing in the fullest flowing terms what I thought of his service and the quality of his oh-so-poor lies. After all, was it so unlikely I was going to find out the courier had never even seen the stuff? Bullshit is sticky stuff and should only be handled by an expert! The moral of this story is; cocking-up makes you human, covering-up makes you stupid and covering-up really badly makes you a spam* called Robert. You know who you are. Suppliers aren't bastards, but some of the people working for them are.

"Which is heavier, a ton of lead or a ton of feathers?" A simple enough question and one that's been around for so long you'd think everyone would know the answer. "It's a trick question," came the reply. I agreed, it was a trick question. "Then it's the feathers!" She chirped without irony. I put my head in my hands. Logically half this country's population is of below average intelligence. Worse than that, one in ten people must consequently be in the bottom 10%. That's 6 million people. It's those kinds of statistics that scared me out of retail and into the relative sanctuary of distribution in the first place. I exclusively deal with smart business people who've built themselves a niche in this hard world by selling complex IT products and services. They are sentient multi-cellular beings far above the primeval goo. However, they deal daily with mental amoebas that think nothing of deleting system files because they look 'messy'. People who can't read the manual, not just won't. (I'd like to point out I'm a big fan of adult literacy programs, although advertising them by saying: 'write to us at the following address…' is probably not the best idea). Customers who really need colour-coded ends on their cables. You know the type I mean. And yet you deal with them with consideration and patience. I really respect retailers for that. I congratulate you all. Particularly those of you who've never killed a customer in anger. Heaven knows the temptation must be there.

Paul Smith will be attending this years NASCR Event in April and looks forward to meeting his public on his stand, where he will be available to sign copies of the Indie Magazine. No flash photography please.

*SPAM. Noun. Any useless lump of offal meat, usually pink, which contains only a slight hint of brain.

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May 1999.

Cheap, cheaper, cheapest, free.

I look down at my collection of Baseball Caps, T-shirts and colourful plastic bags with string handles and I know I've been to a trade show. Because I attended the damn fine NASCR/Indie event in Nottingham on April the 11th, I can now see character key rings, very useful squeezie-balls and logo bedecked pens by the thousand, all around me. And I've got little brochures, and big brochures and huge brochures; some as big as your 'ed! Catalogues and price guides, company profiles with glossy pictures and poorly photocopied reviews from magazines, etc. Basically my lounge floor is covered in what my girlfriend, Judith, calls 'Piles of Meaningless Crap', or PMC for short. She is not sympathetic to my cause. She doesn't understand that if one attends a trade show it is imperative to collect as much gratis 'stuff' as possible. But most shockingly I wasn't there as a punter, I was there as an exhibitor! However I found talking to other exhibitors almost as useful as talking to the many retailers who attended. Meeting other disties gives me an insight into the industry I can't usually get from the corner we call PC Cables and Accessories plus, of course, a big pile of stuff, free. I appreciate I wasn't exactly the type of potential customer other exhibitors were there to see, so I did try not to take anything I really wasn't interested in. Stuff that I'd call GPMC (Genuine PMC). What I did see was plenty of new lines we might consider distributing, seemingly at every turn. Budget software, inkjet cartridges and digital cameras all caught my eye, so expect to see some interesting, fresh products on our fax-shots. A new feature at the NASCR/Indie event was a rogue element from the ECTS; semi-clad women. A special mention must go to the SNK Girl who managed to look respectable in a grey bin liner with an uncovered midriff whilst suffering the indignity of people trying to guess her weight. The other highlights of this year's show for me were the stands of Planet and FastTrak.

Last first, Jon Silvera of FastTrak was a star for giving me a copy of the hip 'n' happenin' new music making software Dance E-Jay 2. We got chatting about the 18-month-old 'E-jay' range, which he tells me is the biggest selling music creating software range ever. I'm not surprised. As a kid I tortured family and friends with a recorder because I have the musical ability of a badger in a tumble-dryer, and yet with the Dance E-Jay demo disk I got in The Indie last year, I could knock together pretty passable tunes. Even my girlfriend likes the package and she won't usually touch my PC with a pokey stick, preferring instead to mow our lawn. Which kind of leads me on to another of Jon's interesting products; 3D Gardening software. Jon and I chewed the fat over the very limited and often patronising software for ladies of the female persuasion. Barbie anyone? Family PC's supplied with a games bundle for the kids, a CD-ROM DIY guide for him and the E-Kitchen Companion for her just aren't 'PC' anymore. I've a feeling a lot of women would turn their noses up at make-over or flower arranging software too. Like gardening software, the E-Jay range has a big female following because it isn't trying too hard to be 'just what the little lady wants'. I've just had an idea. 'Virtual Shopping for Shoes'. It could use the Quake engine and you would have to attitude-adjust unhelpful sales assistants by threatening them with your cork bottomed sandals. The grand prize, found on the last level, could be a huge pile of virtual chocolate.

Those nice people at Planet deserve, or rather are owed, a mention for their huge stand. Enough room for tables and chairs (and cat swinging) proves their serious commitment to the Indie sector and/or a desire to make exhibitors on 2m x 2m postage stamps green with envy. I say owed because I swapped a positive mention in the Indie for a copy of Ridge Racer Type 4 for the Playstation. And what a deal that was. On the one hand I had to kiss goodbye to my (hah!) journalistic principles and on the other I got a £40 game which plays as sweetly at Gran Turismo and looks almost as good! However, when I play RRT4 I get a hankering for an arcade game called GTi Club, which I used to love. It takes a lot to part me from a shiny £1 coin but this multi-player racer was so good I'd have pumped my savings into it all night long. For those of you who've not seen it, you drive a choice of small cars (Mini, Fiat 500, Renault 5, Pug205, etc) around a highly detailed mountain course and through a Mediterranean (?) seaside town. You could cut down back alleys, scattering alfresco diners as you went, to get ahead of the field then handbrake turn to take a sharp corner… Ah, memories! Let me put it this way, it's the only game Sega could port which might make me fork out hard currency on a Dreamcast.

Lastly I have to mention our own stand, and not just to tell how we gave away a nice TV to a very surprised Peter Johnson of North Notts. Computers. Exhibiting at trade shows is clearly a good way for us to meet retailers, old and new, and maybe do a bit of business, but it's also a PR exercise and, if we're lucky, a bit of a jolly. That's why we'll be shelling-out several grand on next years NASCR/Indie event too. Our only concern is the location of the show. While keeping (do funny accent) 'in t' Mid-londs' (and relax) is great for the immediate locals and ok for you boys from Manchester and Birmingham, spare a thought for John and Diane from GZ Computers in Ashford, Kent, who made a high-mileage effort to attend. Holding it in one general location saturates that area, because the show is still too small to have the nation-wide pulling power of some of the larger ones. I'm sure moving the show to less central areas would draw in a lot of new faces. Ok, it wouldn't be so good for the Sheffield contingent, sorry guys, but it could be a lot better for John, Diane and their ilk. Having advertised in the Indie for nearly four years and been very active with the NASCR membership, there couldn't have been that many people at the show that didn't know our products and us already. In that situation you're playing with the law of diminishing returns, yet we wouldn't have missed it for the world. All six members of the team attended the show, with a very early start on a Sunday morning, with tons of sport on the telly… voluntarily. We weren't even going to get paid or get time off instead, and no one was complaining! In my opinion that's real enthusiasm and serious dedication. Call us mad but we all went because we knew it would be good for us personally and good for the company in general. Except for me. I went for the free stuff.

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June 1999.

The PC is dead.

More than that, it's starting to smell. The beige box recalls the austere 1930s compared to a groovy iMac. The monitor is a midget next to the new generation of giant digital TV's. PCs are tolerated in the office environment because they only have photocopiers, staplers and hole-punches to compete against. And you can't do your accounts on any of those. It's a very different story in the home. Against the limp foes of yesterday, like the SNES, the all-conquering power of the 486Dx2 chip was king. Example: Doom, the finest game of all time, took years to come out on other systems. But now the best games wait to get ported to the PC. In 1998 Gran Turismo was as hot a title as money could buy, yet it's still to have a Mintel outing. Look at any software chart, like ELSPAs, and you'll see games systems are dominant. Since the virtual death of the Amiga platform and the birth of Multimedia in the early '90's it's been the home market that pushes PC architecture to higher and higher spec's. and that means games. Thus the advent of next-gen. games systems three or four years ago must of had a big dampening effect. Proof: Many PC stores also sell consoles because many stores wouldn't survive by PC business alone. You need to spend a grand plus on a full-on 'n' frisky P2 with a monstrous 3D card to compete with current £100 games systems. And the £200 128-bit Dreamcast and PSX-2 aren't all that far away. PC's still exist only because 1) You can't word-process or print with a Nintendo. 2) You can wander the 'net with them. 3) Erm, I can't think of another good reason to own a home PC, let alone spend hundreds of pounds per year upgrading it. Think about DVD for a second. It's just the technologically improved version of the CD-Rom. But like CD-Rom, DVD for PC applications is the bastard offspring of another entertainment market. Audio CD technology gave us the 'rom. Digital Versatile Disk was once the Digital Video Disk. Who wants to watch a DVD Movie on a pokey monitor when they could spread out on the sofa and watch it on a 32" Wide-screen TV instead? Popcorn in your keyboard, anyone? It's like listening to a CD through your PC's speakers. Who does that when there's a good Hi-Fi with remote control in the room? And as PCs have become more complex and software more complicated the chances of them working 100%, 100% of the time, has dropped to the chances of intelligent life being discovered on Mars, or in PC World. You have to set aside an hour to install and configure new software, plus another hour to actually get the bastard to work. Unless you're running an office app. that is. It's time to face the facts; PC's make crap games machines. The only thing which keeps them going is the considerable installed user base and the kind of specialist titles which are hard to port to a 'sole. Example: Hasbro's Rollercoaster Tycoon is fine on a PC but all those options, features and menu-in-menus would be a bugger to navigate with a pad.

Looking to the future, the Dreamcast is likely to have a built-in modem so now you can murder your mates by 'phone. The pocket-memory-card-game thingy will extend its appeal into new areas. Apply DVD technology and you've got a Video player as well as an Audio CD player, as in the old Playstation and Saturn (I've still got mine. Am I alone?) Put it all in a saucy black case with brushed aluminium detailing to stick under your vast TV and you've got a winner. Make that box openable (not actually a word, but it deserves to be) and upgradable (not actually a word either) by a Sega Licensed Technician(tm) and you've got a device which could use mass-market PC technology like hard-drives or LS120s on a games dedicated board. Don't you wish you could exchange the pants performance 'rom in your laystation for a 40x speed one? Loading-bars would slash across the screen rather than creep like a glazier, err, glacier. The words 'Please Wait' would flash up on the screen so fast you couldn't read them. Bliss. The point of all this is if your business relies on people buying a PC from you to play games on (even if they're not admitting it, even to themselves), be afraid Be very afraid. As the wiffy Amiga was once surpassed by fresher products, so the home PC could be in the next couple of years.

786 words. Sorry. Thanks for the cheque Dale, you can be sure I'll be spending it sensibly. Wax Lamps, Pringles, The Phantom Menace merchandise… that kind of thing. Ciao.

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July 1999.

I am scum.

He is a Politician. Therefor he is a liar. She is a Hairdresser. Therefor her name is Vikki (with little circles on top of the 'i's). I am a sales guy. Therefor I am scum. Or so you'd think. Perhaps it's simply a timing thing, but sometimes my contacts are mysteriously out. That's out in a "Tell him I'm out" kind of way. Not so bad in itself, but sometimes it's left all too painfully obvious they're around but not in the mood to discuss cables. It's that kind of thing that brings the worst out in me. My dark side, my uncontrollable sarcasm beast, is roused by people pulling my plonker. I find myself enjoying conversations like:

"Sorry Paul, John's just popped out."
"I had a pair of pants like that too."

"He's rather busy at the moment."
"I'll call back when he's finished his tea."

"Sorry Paul, Sue's gone out."
"Have you tried dousing her in petrol?"

"She's tied up in the warehouse."
"Ah, sweet memories…"

All very unprofessional, yet strangely satisfying. I'd much rather be told to sod off and call back at a more convenient time. It's ruder but at least it's honest and that's the way I prefer it. Happily most of my customers are delighted, if not apoplectic with joy, to hear from me. One waits keenly by the 'phone for my weekly call, just to beg me to recite Lewis Carroll's 'The Jabberwocky' to him. Gawd knows why, but I like to oblige. It must be a purchasing thing. He has to place a decent order to get all the funny voices though...

Which neatly brings me in a thoroughly contrived way to regional accents. Mostly I've looked after accounts in the South east of the country, which has helped me develop clipped tones that would get me an announcing job with the BBC. And I can do a good cheeky Cockney-Wide-Boy so I can wheel and deal with Peckhams finest PC floggers. Sometimes I could pass as an extra from 'Lock, stock and two smoking barrels'. Viz: "It's a deal. It's a steal. It's the sale of the flipping century. Yours for a monkey, squire. Pukka." And hence it was a dark day when I got talking to a Newcastle account prospect last week. Technical chitchat can be a minefield at the best of times, but when wrapped up in an unfamiliar accent so thick it's verbal fog, it's a nightmare. And I'm sure the guy was pissed too, which frankly didn't help. In the end I asked him to fax me his requirements. Predictably his handwriting was as impenetrable as his speech. Don't get me wrong, I love the Geordie accent. It's just I can't understand it hen it's 'assisted' by a gallon of famous brown ale. To sum up. Please don't call me if you're as pished as a fart, because I will deliberately and maliciously fail to understand the word 'Scsi', no matter how loudly you sluringly shout it. Thanks.

Cheering me up this month has been a top class Nintendo 64 game called Beetle Adventure Racing. You may recall I have a fondness for a certain arcade racer called GTI Club. Well, this piece of software hokum is as close as I've found on a home system. You race themed tracks (ski-resort, volcanic island, etc.) with multiple shortcuts against a pack of VW's latest Cockroach inspired incarnations of Hitler's favourite car, whilst collecting points for hitting cardboard boxes. Imagine Starskey and Hutch meet The LoveBug. Lots of fun for kids of all ages.

That which promises to be the biggest thing since the whole concept of slicing this month prompts the return of product news. Star War(tm) Episode one(tm) The Phantom Menace(tm) is going to be the largest merchandising bonanza of the decade. While Titanic may prove to be a bigger cash cow at the box-office, when did you last see a drowned sailor action figure or a 'king-of-the-world' lunchbox? IT industry TPM branded products will include such favourites as: The Game, the mouse-pad, the mouse, the screensaver and desktop theme CD-ROM, the CD case, the PC dust cover (no, it's not made up), the other game and the Playstation sticker set. If you've not cashed in on the South Park, Lara Croft, Wallace and Gromit or StarTrek phenomena with some attractive but frivolous items, now would be your big chance! "Ey, where there's nerdish obsession there's brass", as they don't say up t' north.

750ish words. Thanks for your continued support Dale. I hope you regard the above to be a return to form.

All my love, Paul.

P.S. Have you seen the new Millennium Bug solution? It's called Y2KY-Jelly. It lets you put four digits where previously only two would fit.

Don't read it, download it!

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August 1999.

We have nothing to fear, but fear itself.

I heard the other day that the PC industry is incestuous. It came as something of a relief, because all this time I'd thought it was just me. I'd been worrying about it, and so had my sister.

Worry is a topic that seems close to Indies hearts at the moment. For 'close' read 'squeezing it in a kinda ice-cold claw of angst and stress'. Nostradamus (1503-1566) has put the wind up everyone with his eerily accurate visions of the future. When he wrote 'Bewaere thee counterfeit Soft of Ware, yea, for it be-'eth the work of thy Devilish minions' back in the sixteenth century, how could he have foretold the coming of CDR? If he's also right about the date of the End Of The World, shortly we can all forget about margins and over-heads and enjoy 'The Rapture' instead. Which will be nice.

Before Armageddon, it's that sunny-funny time of year again (maybe for the last time, so get out there and enjoy it!) when holidays beckon, and carefree, tanned 'n' smiling faces are everywhere. Except on you perhaps, because you might have more staff than customers and more bills than cash in the bank. A holiday could be a cruel fantasy and your face may just be pale 'n' distinctly smile-free. If these descriptions sound familiar, I feel for you, I really do. We've already had quite a few customers go down on us already this year. (I can't believe they let me get away with this filth). Some owed us money and some didn't, but I feel sorry for all of them. We all like a laugh when our competitors go to the wall, but it's a very different story when it's you and you're nose-to-nose with Herr Bankruptcy. For everyone who's said, "It's as dead as a Dodo. I'm going to throw the towel in and buy an ice-cream van" in the last few months, I have some words of comfort for you. You are not alone. Everyone (except us, naturally) is quiet. But hey! Your future isn't as dark as a solar eclipse, Christmas is just five short months away! And then it's time to party, party, and party! And no more millennium integer worries until the year 10,000, or if big N is to be believed, ever again!

Stating the obvious, number 37, from a series of 80.

This industry, like all retail, is in the summer doldrums. My brother is in the 'previously enjoyed' 2nd user Automobile industry and he tells me the only way to shift a motor at the moment is to give it away. And throw in twelve months tax, a new MOT and a free hour with a prostitute, with 'extras'. I choose to think he's kidding about the prostitute. The Dreamcast will help many, just as long as Virgin don't start swapping software titles for a packet of peanuts or doing something equally crazy and detrimental to the industry. Customers may love paying a mere £29.99 for a grade-A, 100% Columbian PSX title, but if you're making the price of a can of coke on each one your heart just isn't going to be in it, is it? Let's all pray for Sega salvation. In the meantime, just hang on in there, guys. The end of the world is nigh, but the meek will inherit the earth and when they do they'll still need I.T. solutions and games consols.