One time, I couldn't figure out how to print on a new-fangled "multi-function centre" my company had recently bought. Although I consider myself tech-savvy, the print function was lost amid all the other features this all-in-one behemoth sported - it could scan, copy, fax, tie a Windsor knot.

I finally figured it out after 40 minutes of trial and error, wasted paper and muttered cursing. But I wasn't the only one frustrated: My boss looked at me as if to say: "Should I pay this guy for 40 minutes of non-work?" Don't blame the employees. Technology today is increasingly complex and unwieldy, turning its raison d'être upside-down: Instead of simplifying our office lives, everyday hardware and software is draining our patience and productivity.

According to a recent study at Glasgow University, employers should be concerned about the productivity issue. The study found that office workers spend up to one month a year trying to solve tech problems or learn new software.

Thirty seven per cent of surveyed workers said they are frustrated by not being able to handle the technology and about a third admitted they failed to receive proper training on using the technology. More than half of bosses said this low-skill level adversely affects productivity.

Illustration by Adrian Hayles, Business Edge


"People in offices are now getting into the situation that they are under pressure to learn lots of new software," the study's author, Prof. Christopher Johnson, told The Scotsman newspaper. "We have become so reliant on technology that if something goes wrong, then the time is increased to fix it."

Johnson, who is part of the human-computer integration group, cited the example of spilling water on a cellphone: It takes far longer to retrieve phone numbers and data than yesteryear's equivalent, ink on paper. The former needs at least one visit to a cellphone service centre, the latter needs a radiator and time.

Another worthy example is a software program installed in company computers. E-mail interfaces differ with every program, so it can be taxing for new workers to easily navigate a program without training. Same goes for printers, fax machines, security cards and even web browsers (look at how Firefox differs from Internet Explorer).

But aren't we a tech-oriented society now? Don't we scoff at those simpletons who don't know how to scan a photo? Yes, early adopters and seasoned gadget-hounds pepper our offices, but only the snobbiest snob will declare the entire Western world adept at using technology. Some of us know how to update our browsers, some don't.

What office managers must understand is that we all can't be instant geeks when the computer contracts a virus. Many of us freak out as if we accidentally clogged the toilet. That's where training comes in.

If workers are losing up to a month annually trying to accomplish simple tasks, they obviously need a refresher. Training in new software is the obvious action, but what must also be considered are monthly workshops on basic tasks.

Imagine if companies offered a free course on spam filtering or advanced printing functions. Wouldn't that be more applicable than lectures on morale boosting and team building?

Then again, let's not lay too much heat on employers. Look to manufacturers for change, since they designed the product that causes that teeth-gritting annoyance. According to some technology experts, such as renowned author Douglas Rushkoff, frustrated users should remind themselves of a concept bound to haunt them: Planned obsolescence.

Technology that requires service or consulting fees will generate more income for the company that supplies it than one that doesn't, says Rushkoff, author of Get Back in the Box: Innovation from the Inside Out. He recalls how carmakers took that idea to a nexus that ultimately hurt them more than they thought. "Sometimes, even with the best intentions, it's hard to predict the consequences of our technologies," he said in an interview with Business Edge.

Rushkoff suggests a shift in design conception. From an interface standpoint, menus or options would only reveal complexity as the user becomes more familiar with the product. Shortcuts would allow experts - a.k.a. "geeks" - to access nested features unused by the casual consumer, Rushkoff says.

One can only dream. Until then, workers and managers have to familiarize themselves with devices arrayed with dizzying menus and buttons. Why would the office even purchase complex machines that only confuse Joe and Jane Employee? Perhaps they want to keep up with the Joneses Inc. next door?

Marketing professor Robert J. Meyer proposes another answer. After studying product enhancement since the 1980s at the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania, Meyer offers a concept to encapsulate this need to not be obsolete: The paradox of enhancement.

In this paradox, people buy a product because the bells and whistles seem attractive. But after the purchase they find the complexity of the new features overwhelming and end up using only the product's basic functions.

"At the time of purchase, people tend to focus on the positive and begin to imagine all the great uses they will get from these new features. But they fail to foresee all the things that will cause them not to use them, such as the difficulty of learning," Meyer wrote in a recent paper.

Oh education, you never-ending plague on our slothful ways. So it seems our patience wears thin when the words "advanced controls" enter the picture, especially when we're just learning to master the basics. Forget tech-savvy; we're barely tech-friendly.

Managers must now be asking themselves: OK, we're inept even though we consider ourselves adept. Two letters can make a big difference, I know.

And I say to these managers: It's fine and dandy that you know how weak your IT skills have become, but what are you going to do about it?

I don't often quote the writer and poet Maya Angelou, but she offers a pithy lesson for short-sighted complaint-mongers: "If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude."

I'll add a footnote: If you can't change your attitude, brace for impact.

(David Silverberg can be reached at silverberg@businessedge.ca)