Sometimes a screw-up works out for the best.
I have an Olympus 850 SW digital camera. It is fine. The software is annoying and miserable. If you are listening, Gods of Olympus cameras, make it easier for boomer- aged mortals to use it. We have money. We buy stuff. If we like your stuff we’ll buy it.
I loaded the software so I could register it online and I regretted it from that moment forward. All my other digital cameras gave me the choice of using the program that came with Windows. It’s easy. Olympus gave the photo some miserable long string of a name that I couldn’t sort out how to change, and it also gave me no choice but to go into the Olympus program when I transferred pictures.
That was blessedly annoying. I cursed the Gods of Olympus cameras every time.
Sunday night I tried to make the name string something useful and hit the wrong thing. Whatever got deleted was important to transferring photos.
I couldn’t find the software to put it back on. I couldn’t find it in the recycle bin. I couldn’t even find the restore function on my computer to get it back that way.
Worse, I put the card back in the camera and it came up “no pictures.”
Annoyed? Oh, I’d have to rip and chew my way out of the pit of righteous anger to be merely annoyed.
Only half the Olympus software got clicked away to oblivion. I admit that was my fault.
The path was clear. I had to remove the rest of the software from the computer. I did. It was very satisfying.
I reformatted the card in the camera and it works fine. This is a good thing.
Now I can use the camera, which I really like, without being forced to worship at the foot of Olympus software.
I screwed up by accidentally deleting something the program needed. But I made it all better by taking an intellectual sledgehammer to the rest of it.
Like I said, satisfying.
I have an Olympus 850 SW digital camera. It is fine. The software is annoying and miserable. If you are listening, Gods of Olympus cameras, make it easier for boomer- aged mortals to use it. We have money. We buy stuff. If we like your stuff we’ll buy it.
I loaded the software so I could register it online and I regretted it from that moment forward. All my other digital cameras gave me the choice of using the program that came with Windows. It’s easy. Olympus gave the photo some miserable long string of a name that I couldn’t sort out how to change, and it also gave me no choice but to go into the Olympus program when I transferred pictures.
That was blessedly annoying. I cursed the Gods of Olympus cameras every time.
Sunday night I tried to make the name string something useful and hit the wrong thing. Whatever got deleted was important to transferring photos.
I couldn’t find the software to put it back on. I couldn’t find it in the recycle bin. I couldn’t even find the restore function on my computer to get it back that way.
Worse, I put the card back in the camera and it came up “no pictures.”
Annoyed? Oh, I’d have to rip and chew my way out of the pit of righteous anger to be merely annoyed.
Only half the Olympus software got clicked away to oblivion. I admit that was my fault.
The path was clear. I had to remove the rest of the software from the computer. I did. It was very satisfying.
I reformatted the card in the camera and it works fine. This is a good thing.
Now I can use the camera, which I really like, without being forced to worship at the foot of Olympus software.
I screwed up by accidentally deleting something the program needed. But I made it all better by taking an intellectual sledgehammer to the rest of it.
Like I said, satisfying.
