Stupid by design

We have an outdoor light fixture, mounted above our garage door. It’s both light and motion sensitive. This means that the light turns on, at a dim level, each day around dusk. If it detects any motion nearby, it bumps up to a brighter illumination. Around dawn, the light goes off again. This are exactly the features we wanted — and the light has functioned well for more than seven years.

I say all this at the outset because, despite where this article is about to go, I don’t want to create the impression that the light fixture is a piece of junk overall.

The problem I had with the light is one that it shares with a disturbingly large number of other objects and devices: There is an aspect of design that is so mind-numbingly stupid, you have to wonder if anyone at the companies that makes the devices ever actually test them out.

In the case of the light fixture, here’s what happened:

A few months ago, one of the fixture’s two bulbs died. I got out my stepladder, climbed up to reach the light and attempted to remove the dead bulb. As it turned out, there was a metal ring that surrounded the front of the bulb casing, holding a glass cover in place. I needed to remove the ring in order to access the bulb.

This would have been quite simple to do, except for one thing. The ring was held in place by a small screw. As later became apparent, the screw is completely unnecessary. Even without the screw, the friction and threading forces holding the ring to the casing are sufficient so that the ring would never unintentionally move or fall off. At best, the screw serves as a final trivial layer of protection. However, with the screw in place, it was impossible to remove the ring. The screw had to be removed.

Making matters worse (much worse!), the screw itself was extremely small — so small that none of the screwdrivers in my toolbox had a small enough blade to fit. I had to locate the drivers I use for eyeglass repairs and computer equipment to find one that was potentially small enough.

Still, the trouble was not over. In what I can only assume was the work of a sadistic designer, the screw was recessed inside a hole, a hole barely larger than the screw itself. This meant that most of my super-small screwdrivers were still not small enough to insert in the hole and reach the screw head.

After a period of trial-and-error, I finally found one driver that seemed ideal. It fit in the hole, inserted into the screw head and was capable of turning the screw. Except it didn’t.

What was the problem now? After years of being outside and exposed to the elements, the screw had corroded. This might have been avoided if the manufacturer had used stainless steel screws, but they didn’t. No matter how hard I tried, the screw would not budge. I was in danger of stripping the screw if I kept trying.

I got out my trusty WD-40. To no avail. I went to our local hardware store and asked for advice. They recommended a rust-penetrating spray that was supposedly much better than WD-40 for this problem. Again, to no avail. The light fixture remained impenetrable, silently taunting me.

I was literally “screwed.” I have another phrase I use to describe this situation: “stymied at step one.” Whether I’m trying to assemble a piece of furniture, configure some new electronic device or (in this case) do some minor maintenance, I get out the instructions and the very first step appears impossible to do. Infuriating.

I finally gave up on the light fixture and called for reinforcements — a “handyman” that I periodically recruit for jobs that seem beyond my pay grade. Much to my surprise, he was ultimately just as stymied as I was. After about 30 minutes of trying and failing to remove the screw, he told me it would be cheaper and faster to buy a new light fixture and have him install it — rather than pay him to continue to try to extract the immovable screw. As a bonus, with the new fixture, I would have all new components, making it less likely that other repairs would be needed anytime soon.

Although I felt like I was admitting defeat, bested by an inanimate object a few millimeters in size, I agreed.

I was able to buy what appeared to be a slightly newer version of the exact same fixture I had purchased years ago. It did have one significant difference: the infamous screw was now noticeably larger and was no longer recessed in a hole. Its head sat above the ring’s surface. As you might guess, this made it much much easier to access and remove the screw. Although I could have left it in place, I was taking no more chances. I removed the screw and tossed it. It would never be able to stymy any future maintenance.

Several weeks have now gone by. The new fixture is working well and the ring remains in place.

As I reflect on this (and similar other) incidents, the same question keeps recurring: How could the company that made the object have made such a stupid design decision? If I were examining a test version of the fixture, I would have immediately spotted the difficulty with accessing the screw. And I don’t design light fixtures for a living. Did anyone at the company bother to check how hard it would be to remove the screw? Did they even care?

Cynics may claim that the design is a deliberate strategy, with a goal (successful in my case) of getting the owner to buy a new fixture rather than replace the bulb. I’m skeptical of this. If that were true, they would not have redesigned the fixture in the newer model. Rather, it seems more a case of negligence and ineptitude. Rather than take the time to worry about these matters, it’s easier and probably cheaper for them to make stupid decisions and solve any problems after-the-fact, if at all.

Screwed at any size

As it turns out, problems with screws and bolts and such can occur no matter what their size. At the other end of the size spectrum, consider the recently discovered problem with new eastern span of the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge. Scheduled to open this Labor Day, after more than 10 years of construction, Caltrans acknowledged last week that “one-third of the threaded steel rods used to bolt down two massive steel boxes below the new bridge deck” had snapped when tightened.

That would be bad enough. What makes matters much worse is a “design” issue: “The failed rods, which are up to 17 feet long, can’t be replaced easily as there is no longer room to put in new ones because the bridge’s roadbed has already been installed. Engineers will have to fashion a fix.” More precisely, the access opening to the bolts is about five feet in diameter, but the bolts themselves are wider than that. Oops.

Stupid by (web) design

These sort of problems are by no means restricted to hardware. If you use a computer, you likely confront such issues on a regular basis. Hardly a day goes by that I do not curse out some website. In one case, I was promised a price reduction if I redeemed a code. Unfortunately, I reached the point where the site asked for my credit card information and instructed me to click Purchase Now — without any opportunity to enter any sort of code. If I clicked the button, I feared I would be charged the full price.

As it turns out, the redemption box does appear, but only after you click the purchase button. I had to call the company to find this out (as I was unwilling to click to purchase before I knew I would get the discount). Again, I have to wonder, did anyone at the company walk through this purchase procedure before the site went live? Did it not occur to anyone that this sequence might cause a purchaser to hesitate and ultimately not buy their product? I guess not. It’s just another example of “stupid by design.” One too many.

Would you take this drug?

Here’s a little quiz for you.

Step 1: Read the following warning label for a prescription drug (I’ve substituted “[REDACTED]” for the name of the drug).

Some people have had changes in behavior, hostility, agitation, depressed mood, suicidal thoughts or actions while using [REDACTED]. Some people had these symptoms when they began taking [REDACTED], and others developed them after several weeks of treatment or after stopping [REDACTED].

If you, your family, or caregiver notice agitation, hostility, depression, or changes in behavior, thinking, or mood that are not typical for you, or you develop suicidal thoughts or actions, anxiety, panic, aggression, anger, mania, abnormal sensations, hallucinations, paranoia, or confusion, stop taking [REDACTED] and call your doctor right away.

Also tell your doctor about any history of depression or other mental health problems before taking [REDACTED], as these symptoms may worsen while taking [REDACTED].

Do not take [REDACTED] if you have had a serious allergic or skin reaction to [REDACTED]. Some people can have serious skin reactions while taking [REDACTED], some of which can become life-threatening. These can include rash, swelling, redness, and peeling of the skin.

Some people can have allergic reactions to [REDACTED], some of which can be life-threatening and include: swelling of the face, mouth, and throat that can cause trouble breathing. If you have these symptoms or have a rash with peeling skin or blisters in your mouth, stop taking [REDACTED] and get medical attention right away.

Tell your doctor if you have a history of heart or blood vessel problems before starting [REDACTED], or if you have a history of these problems and have any new or worse symptoms during treatment with [REDACTED]. Get emergency medical help right away if you have any symptoms of a heart attack.

In clinical trials, the most common side effects of [REDACTED] include: Nausea (30%), Sleep problems (trouble sleeping, changes in dreaming), Constipation, Gas, Vomiting. If you have side effects that bother you or don’t go away, tell your doctor. You may have trouble sleeping, vivid, unusual or strange dreams while taking [REDACTED].

Step 2: Before reading further, answer this question: How seriously ill would you have to be before you would be willing to take this drug as a possible treatment? Terminally ill with cancer? A mild cold? Or somewhere in between?

Okay. The drug name is now revealed: It’s Chantix and it’s purpose is to help you stop smoking.

You read correctly. A drug whose sole benefit is to possibly get you to stop smoking can lead to suicide, a fatal skin reaction or a heart attack. Among other unpleasant side effects. Granted, smoking is a serious problem with its own life-threatening possibility. But I have to wonder about taking a drug that, at least in the short term, seems potentially worse than the problem it’s trying to fix.

It’s not just Chantix. Whenever I see a drug advertised on TV, there’s at least a 50:50 chance that the list of possible problems is enough to scare me from ever wanting to take the drug. Some of these drugs may be worth the risk. But you wouldn’t know it from the ridiculous television ads. And yet…these ads must work or I wouldn’t keep seeing them. I guess people attend more to the happy people on the screen than to what the announcer is saying may be about to happen to them.

My Rant Against Air Travel

I typically don’t travel far for my vacations. Why should I?

I am one of the lucky ones. I live in the San Francisco Bay area. It is one of the most naturally beautiful locations on earth. For gorgeous views and superb outdoor activities combined with a great cosmopolitan city, there is no place better. U.S. Travel lists it as the number-one spot for a vacation in America. I’m not surprised. There’s more. Within a few hours drive, there are a variety of equally stunning locales, from Monterey to Yosemite National Park. If for some reason I was constrained to stay within this driving radius for the rest of my life, I would be content.

Still, I periodically feel the lure of visiting distinct and exotic locales. I rarely give into this urge. The main reason is that, aside from being a satisfied stick-in-the-mud, I find traveling abroad to be more and more unpleasant with each passing year. I’m not talking about the time spent at whatever destination I’ve chosen. That remains fine. I’m talking about the hassles you have to endure before you ever set foot on foreign soil. For me, I’m sure the unpleasantness is partly a side effect of having less tolerance for hassles as I get older. But it’s mainly due to the total disregard for customer satisfaction shown by most travel providers, especially airlines.

I assume airlines, at some level, are interested in maintaining their tourist customers. If so, you’d be hard-pressed to find evidence of this. It’s no wonder airlines keep declaring bankruptcy.

Case in point: My wife and I recently started planning a trip to Paris we hope to take this spring. Just booking a flight turned out to be so infuriating that I almost decided it wasn’t worth the bother.

We first tried getting tickets several months ago, hoping to get seats before things started to get busy. No such luck. We couldn’t book more than six months in advance. So we had to wait. When our departure date was about five and half months away, we tried again. More bad news. The desirable flights were already almost full.

But almost doesn’t count, as they say. So we pressed forward, under the pressure of knowing that any delay could spell doom for getting a good deal. Dealing with AAA Travel, we eventually found a flight we liked at an acceptable price. We did hesitate one day before paying for the tickets — just to be certain this was what we truly wanted. Big mistake! Huge! By the next day, the flight had gone up $100/ticket for a fuel surcharge. The ticket price jumped yet another $100 because the seat category available the day before had sold out; only more expensive seats were left. Understand that these more expensive seats were still in the cheapest economy class. It’s just that the airline charged more for the remaining seats because the plane had less seats left. Lastly, it turned out that our agent had made a mistake in her initial pre-booking; she had put in the wrong departure date. Luckily, I caught this before buying the tickets. However, when she entered the correct date, the cost of the flight that day was (you guessed it!) a further $100 increase. So, within 24 hours of selecting a flight, the cost of a ticket increased over $300 from the initial quote.

Is there any other purchase where prices fluctuate like this? I can think of some cases where the price of a product may go up (or down) significantly on a given day. But that would typically happen only one or two times a year. With the airlines, these price fluctuations happen continually, every day of the year, perhaps several times in one day.

Buying an airline ticket amounts to a gamble, not unlike rolling the dice at Vegas or playing the stock market. If you wait, even a day, the price may go up — a lot. You lose. Alternatively, if you buy a ticket today, the price may go down the next day. And if that happens, you can’t cancel and rebook at the lower price. You lose again. This is because, if you have to cancel your reservation for any reason, there is almost always a fee, often a big fee, that you have to pay.

In our case, the cost of canceling our trip was (sit down before reading further!) $400 per ticket. This is true even if you cancel well in advance of the flight and even if the airline rebooks your seats to someone else (probably at a higher price). It’s just an automatic and non-negotiable fee.

The airlines are, by far, the worst offenders here. No other part of a typical trip (hotels, car rentals, restaurants) have anything close to these onerous restrictions on reservations. Even after you succeed in purchasing a ticket, the airlines don’t guarantee you a seat. You could get bumped off a flight at the last minute if they are overbooked — which is legal for them to do.

Added to all of this is the fact that the price you found may not be the best price available for a given seat on a given plane on a given day; the price can vary depending upon whether you deal with the airline directly, a travel service, or any of dozens of websites.

In case you’re wondering, I did consider getting tickets on the web, rather than go with AAA — although it was hard to determine if this was worth the effort. For starters, you first have to figure out where to search (as a recent New York Times article covers, there are a myriad of choices). Next, you discover that the variation in prices on the web for different flights is enormous; for our trip, there was a range of over $1200 (all for economy class seats). Prices varied as a function of the particular airline, the number of stops, the length of the layover(s), the time of departure, as well as for no apparent reason at all.

Given my ignorance of international travel, intelligently deciding on the trade-offs was almost impossible. Which is better, flying Icelandic Air with a 2 hour layover in Reykjavik — or saving $150 by flying TAP Portugal with a 5 hour layover in Lisbon? Or skipping layovers altogether and going for a non-stop? I don’t know. And this assumes I could figure out who is actually flying a given plane. Air France had several flights listed as “operated by Delta.” I learned this meant that Delta was actually the carrier, not Air France. The name of the airline attached to the flight number is irrelevant.

I needed time to sort all of this out. But the airlines don’t give you time. By the time I figured out what flight I wanted, all the available flights and prices would have changed. And I would have to start all over again. This was not a road I wanted to travel down. In the end, I probably could have saved money by booking the tickets myself. But it would have been for a different less desirable flight. I decided it wasn’t worth it and stuck with AAA.

There were other options I did not consider: going with an airline + hotel package, or one of those group packages that include guided tours and meals. Throwing these into the mix would have made a decision even more overwhelming. For better or worse, we decided to go “a la carte.”

One last insult. I earlier mentioned the $400 cancellation fee. It turns out that AAA offers insurance to “protect” you in case you need to cancel. One such insurance allows you to cancel for any reason (not just for health-related reasons). In our case, the cost of this insurance was $248/per person. If we did wind up canceling for any non-medical reason, it costs us even more — as we only get back 80% of the cost of the ticket. Given our ticket price, this meant that canceling our trip with insurance would cost us more money than canceling our trip without insurance! I’m not joking. Is anyone stupid enough to fall for this scam?

This is hardly the end of the story. We still have accommodations and other advance reservations to book — as well as deciding on a pre-trip package for mobile phone usage. And then there’s the great “joy” of the travel day itself — with security lines, luggage fees, long flights with cramped seating and minimal food.

Some people may find true joy in planning their trip. There was a time I might have as well. Not anymore. Not with the way things work today.

I still enjoy being on the trip, of course. And Paris awaits us as our reward for putting up with all the pre-trip hassles. I’m looking forward to it. There’s an old saying that the “journey is the reward.” When it comes to travel abroad, this saying is a complete fiction.

Play the Lottery? Don’t Bet On It

Time magazine has some financial advice for you. The only problem is, if you follow their advice, you are nearly 100% certain to lose money. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think this is the sort of advice Time (or anyone) should be doling out.

Specifically, an article by Bill Saporito asks and answers: Play the Lottery? You Bet. You read correctly. The column argues that buying lottery tickets on a regular basis, something that even Time magazine itself (in a previous article) asserted you should never do, is actually money well spent.

This has to be one of the most inane and potentially harmful columns ever to appear in Time. The author should be embarrassed by the column. Time should be ashamed for publishing it.

By what torturous and irrational reasoning did Mr. Saporito come to this fallacious conclusion? Let’s take a closer look.

What are the odds?

The author admits that the odds of one ticket winning the Powerball Lottery are incredibly low — as in 1 in 195,249,054. In his attempt to convey just how low these odds are, Saporito warns: “You have a better chance of being struck by lightning.”

True. But not nearly true enough. If you buy one lottery ticket a week for a year, the odds that you will win the lottery are 1 in 195,249,054/52 which works out to 1 in 3,754,790. In contrast, the National Weather Service reports that the odds of being struck by lightning in a given year is 1 in 1,000,000. In other words, the odds that you will win the lottery are more close to the odds of being struck by lightning 4 times in one year!

The odds go up or down depending on how many lottery tickets you buy in a year. If you only buy one ticket a year, you would have to get struck by lightning 195 times during that year to match the lottery winning odds. On the other hand, if you buy 4 tickets a week for a year (as Mr. Saporito does), the odds of winning are indeed close to the odds of being struck by lightning. Of course, even this is not anything that should get your hopes up.

Let’s look at this one other way. Suppose you buy one ticket a week in a lottery where your odds of winning are 52 to 1. This would mean that you could expect to win the lottery on an average of once a year. With the Powerball’s odds of 195,249,054 to 1, you could expect to win on average once every 3.75 million years! In other words, the odds of winning the Powerball are close to the odds of winning if you never play at all. They are both about zero.

And yet, $58.8 billion dollars was spent on state-supported lotteries last year.

A regressive tax?

Mr. Saporito points out a second criticism against lotteries: They amount to a regressive tax. That is, the lower your annual income, the greater percentage of that income is used up when you buy lottery tickets. Buying $1000 worth of lottery tickets a year is 5% of your income if you make $20,000 a year. But it is only 0.5% of your income if you earn $200,000 a year. Given that those in the lower income brackets tend to buy lottery tickets with greater frequency than those in the upper brackets, this is a double whammy: lottery ticket purchases most hurt those that can least afford it. Indeed, a study cited by Saporito showed lotteries eating up as much a 3.1% of income that would otherwise go to food, rent and clothing.

How does this make sense?

At this point, you might expect Saporito to strongly advocate against lottery ticket purchases. That’s certainly what the data he presents would suggest. But no, he instead recommends the opposite. Huh? How can this be? Mr. Saporito attempts three answers:

First, Mr. Saporito advocates for the entertainment value of the lottery. The enjoyment you get imagining what you would do if you won makes it worth buying a ticket. In some sense, it’s the same enjoyment you might get from playing a slot machine in Las Vegas and hoping for the jackpot. I concede this point — up to a point. It only makes sense if you truly enjoy the process (to me, buying a lottery ticket and waiting to see if I won is no fun at all), you don’t buy more tickets than you can afford (which may be close to zero for low income individuals), and you truly understand how badly the odds are stacked against you. I would suggest that very few people meet these combined criteria.

Saporito’s second argument boils down to this quote: “And there are many other even more foolish places to waste money (than the lottery). Why does Wall Street keep coming to mind?” By this, Mr. Saporito appears to be implying you are better off playing the lottery than investing your money in stock.

Here is where Saporito’s logic truly comes off the rails. As cited in the article, if you had invested money in the stock market for the past ten years (which happen to be among the worst ten years in the history of the stock market), you would have lost 1.54% of your investment. In other words, a $1000 investment would now be worth a bit over $984. Had you invested the same money in the lottery, you would almost certainly have $0 left. By what screwy reasoning does this make the lottery a better deal than the stock market? Never mind that throughout most of the last 60 years, you would have actually made money in the stock market during any ten year period.

Anyway, it’s not as if the stock market is the only alternative place for your lottery money. If you just put the money in a bank, even at the current low interest rates, you’d be better off. Heck, if you spent it on a flat-panel television, you’d probably have more enjoyment than from lottery tickets.

Finally, Mr. Saporito concludes: “So I’ll continue to buy my $4 worth of lotto tickets each week.” This is the final bit of illogic. If all you want is to enjoy an “imaginary jackpot”, why spend $4 a week? Couldn’t you get the same enjoyment from $1 a week, and save the extra $3? If not, if spending more money somehow increases your enjoyment, where does this progression stop? What makes $4 the stopping point? Why not $40 or $400 dollars a week? Saporito offers no advice here.

Take my advice instead. Ignore Mr. Saporito. Stay away from the lottery. Unless the near certainty of losing money appeals to you.