So my neighbor called in a panic (again). Late last night, her system had begun to talk to her, warning her that the only way to rescue it was to call an 800 number. Yeah, most (but not nearly all) of us know this is a scam—and a lame one at that.
But what if Windows itself throws up a dialog that says: “Okay, when do want to schedule your upgrade to Windows 10?” It’s like your wife asking “When do you want to visit my mother, today or tomorrow?”
No, upgrading to Windows 10 isn’t as bad as a visit to Kansas in the summer but many (many) of us are avoiding it. My neighbor heard Windows 10 is “simply awful.”
“Where did you hear that?” I ask.
”You said so.”
”A couple of years ago. You were having a lot of trouble with it,” she says.
”That was then. That was before they made a dozen fixes and several major updates. It’s fine now.”
I made a mental note to never tell her anything. I went on to assure her that I was running Windows 10 on all of the systems which could support it. My wife’s system won’t—it’s an old Pentium system and she’s thrilled she does not have to upgrade.
“I like it the way it is.” she said. It’s one of her mantras.
But to the point. Notice that this dialog does not have a close button. You either schedule the update (and it won’t let you schedule it after your 89th birthday) or do it now. IMHO, this is arrogant. Again, Microsoft needs an “Opt Out” checkbox for those who know they can’t upgrade. Sometimes it’s in the middle of tax season, or just before finals or some other important task must be completed. Maybe it’s just too intimidating.
Since my neighbor was celebrating a birthday, I promised to upgraded her system for her. I set it up in my office and let it update—it took most of the day. After having clicked “Start the Upgrade Now” the system rebooted—and started nothing. I finally ended up installing from the Media Creation Tool. I’ve had to resort to this on several WinX installs for one reason or another. It just works.
One persistent problem I found during the update was black screens. While the hard disk light was flashing, the screen was black—for a long time (hours). It finally came back to life and started a giant countdown clock. Eventually, the system came back to life. It all worked. Her (precious) pictures were where she expected them to be (in the pictures folder), her icons and programs were all there. Chrome was still installed and still had her shortcuts. The tool bar looked just like it did before. It took me twenty minutes to show her Windows 10 would work pretty much like Windows 7.
“Thanks,” she said.
”You’re welcome. And don’t call me after six.”