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Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
when the bills are due, and it will also generate checks.”
He was also going to crank up a mailing-list program, using a list
of all buyers of new bikes within the last three years—a sensible
project, considering the market for accessories and repeat sales.
Obviously, here, as in other applications, the more information built
up on his hard disk, the more his machines would justify the
$20,000 investment. The benefits of computerization for Edward
Boland might not be immediately dramatic, but with his stick-to-
itiveness, sooner or later they’d almost surely come. Boland’s battles
with computers were to continue. When I caught up with him in
spring 1984, he said he’d bought yet another computer system.
Charlie Bowie: Data Base and Spreadsheet
Remember the customer who was raving happy about his software
—also bought from Sue Grothoff at Clinton Computers?
That’s Charlie Bowie, who, when we first talked, was a vice-
president of Washington Homes and manager of its Southern
Division. He told me he expected two Zenith micros to save his
company perhaps as much as $50,000 a year, maybe more.
In just one month, in fact, his $5,000 computer had already saved
the equivalent of thousands of dollars in executive man-hours.
Even before he and I met, his assistant, behind his back, was
singing praises of her boss and their new machine. “I wanted to
learn word processing,” said Julie Grimes, a young, blond woman
who could have been the secretary in the IBM commercials saying
the advertised product was “a piece of cake” to master.
Gazing at the Zenith—which she and Bowie use for data-base
work, spreadsheets, and some word processing—she said: “It really
comes in handy.... We were both worried. Charlie told me, ‘Don’t
worry. We’ll teach each other.’”
Bowie by now was in the room, and it was immediately clear he’d
won her respect through his brains and dedication, not through the
normal trappings of executivedom. He was bearded. He wore a
sweater and heavy boots and wire-rimmed glasses. He plainly was
the construction industry’s version of the proverbial shirt-sleeves
manager. He must loathe paperwork, prefer the field to the
executive suite, even if he was a vice-president of a publicly owned
real estate company with twelve hundred stockholders. He was in his
mid-thirties. That wasn’t so much younger than Ed Boland, who
himself, interviewed on a Saturday, had worn casual clothes. And yet
the two somehow came across as being on opposite sides of the
generation gap that all the pundits were babbling about during
Vietnam. I could imagine Boland watching M*A*S*H; I could
imagine Bowie, in the right setting, being a mild version of Hawkeye.
He wouldn’t necessarily do things the traditional way, but in the end
no one would care, because whatever it was, he’d succeed. Ed
Boland was a man with a fondness for constants—a characteristic
that in his profession had served him well. Charlie Bowie, I sensed,
enjoyed surprises and change.
Bowie’s company, like Boland’s, had to be good to have survived
so long in a boom-and-bust industry. Everyone needs transportation,
everyone needs housing; everyone does not need recreational
motorcycles or new homes. Across the country, home sales had
plummeted at the start of the 1980s. Washington Homes’ sales had
been almost $30 million in 1980 but just half that two years later.
Yet Bowie’s company had survived the ups and downs since 1965.
The management philosophy struck me as the same as Clinton
Cycles—the lean, mean school. It was early 1983 when we first
talked. Another housing boom seemed ready to explode, and Bowie
was working a sixty-five-hour week, “because we’ve gotten very
busy, very quickly, and we haven’t built up our staff rapidly. It’s hard
to find qualified people, and we don’t know whether the recovery’s
here to stay.” Small wonder that he welcomed his computer as a sort
of financial radar—an early warning system that would buzz before
the bombs fell.
Washington Homes was a general contractor. In other words, it
was just as much in the management and budget business as the
building business.
Bowie and his company didn’t hire laborers, didn’t buy every nail
and brick. Rather, they farmed out the construction to
subcontractors, some of whom, if not policed, could wreak havoc on
Washington Homes by, say, finishing work late.
You can’t do plumbing and the electrical wiring, normally, if the
walls aren’t up yet. You’ve got to keep your invisible assembly line
moving. The sixty phases on Bowie’s “House budget summary”
started with items like “Engineering” and “Water Sewer Charge,”
continued through “Brick Veneer” and “Siding” and went on to such
details as “Fences” and “Trash Removal.” If Bowie was late in
submitting bids or getting what he paid for, it wasn’t a bureaucratic
abstraction. It meant a late house, an unhappy customer, perhaps,
and above all, more interest to pay the bank on Washington Homes’
construction loans.
Bowie, moreover, had to keep track of his customer’s own
financing arrangements. The company’s houses sold for anywhere
from $55,000 to $135,000, but most customers were first timers
who had never before wended their ways through the mortgage
maze. Bowie could reduce his company’s carrying charges if he
didn’t rush homes to completion before the customers were ready
for them.
“We don’t make any money until we deliver the house,” he said,
“so we need to keep track of the time between when people
contract and make application with a lender and how long it takes
for them to win loan approval.
“When our company had ninety or a hundred houses and was
backlogged, it was fairly easy to do manually. But now we have
almost five hundred houses in our backlog.”
Shopping around for a system to handle all those grubby details,
Bowie found that computer stores didn’t treat their first-time buyers
as well as he wanted to treat his. “I looked at computers for a year,”
he said, “and the biggest thing I found was the condescending
attitude of the people in the sales centers to someone who knows
nothing about it.
“I’d walk into a store and give them a written list of my
requirements, and the first thing they’d tell me was ‘Your
requirements are wrong.’ And that was the case until I got to Clinton
Computers.”
Bowie showed Sue Grothoff, the sales rep, his sixty-phase budget
sheet—a basic common-sense rule of software and hardware
shopping. If you’re working with documents, at least nonconfidential
ones, then show them! Do so to a store. Do so to a consultant if you
have one. Explain as clearly as you can just what kind of paperwork
you’re computerizing. Here, incidentally, you can’t compare Bowie
and Boland in an apple-to-apple way. Accounting programs can be
much trickier than data bases and spreadsheets, especially for
companies with unusual circumstances like Boland’s—that is, all
those subsidiaries in a small-to-medium business. It’s clear, though,
that whatever happened, Grothoff and Bowie communicated much
better than she and Boland.
“At this point,” said Bowie, “I was only interested in loan
processing and budgets, and the main thing I was interested in was
budgets.”
He thought he needed above all an electronic spreadsheet. Here,
however, for once, a computer sales rep knew his needs better than
he did. Grothoff persuaded him that most of all he needed a data-
base program—one that would help him track loans on hundreds of
houses. It would store information and rearrange it in patterns he
needed. He might not want full copies of all loan-processing reports,
for example. Instead, he might want just the names of the home
buyers, say, or just the foundation costs of each house. Or he might
want the program to tote up all the foundation costs or perform
other arithmetic, including complicated multiplication and division or
calculation of ratios and percentages. And with a program like dBASE
II that’s possible. Like many of its rivals, it will do some complex
calculations, not just shuffle facts around. There are many books on
dBASE II—yet another advantage and indication of its popularity.
(Two good choices are dBASE II User’s Guide by Adam B. Green and
Everyman’s Database Primer featuring dBASE II by Robert Byers.)
Here are some ways in which dBASE II might organize your
records if you’re an executive like Bowie:
1. The CREATE command lets you begin a file.
2. A file in a data base is the electronic version of a file drawer or
cabinet. It’s just the space on the disks holding records—say, the
house-budget summaries for your homes.
3. A field is a category of fact like the amount of money spent on
each air-conditioning system for each house.
4. Structure is simply the way a record is set up. There are three
big considerations—the field names, the field width, and the
field type. The field name is simply a field’s title. The field width
is the number of spaces required for the information in each field.
The field type can be one of these categories:
a. A numeric field—just numbers
b. A character field or alphanumeric field—numbers, letters,
question marks, miscellaneous symbols like “@,” or spaces
between letters or numbers
c. A logical field—one with just two choices, like “Y” for “Yes”
and “N” for “No”
5. The EDIT command changes the contents of a data field. You can
type in modifications after putting your cursor in the right place.
6. A command to APPEND can add new records to your electronic
filing cabinet.
7. Sorting lets you reshuffle records alphabetically, by date or other
ways, just as you would index cards.
8. The LIST command tells dBASE II to flash across the screen the
records that you specify.
9. .AND. helps you narrow down the information you’re looking for
or changing. Consider this hypothetical example: LIST FOR
SALE:PERSN = ‘BABBITT’ .AND. LOAN:AMT = ‘$70,000’ would
guide you to all houses that a sales rep named Babbitt sold to a
customer borrowing exactly $70,000.
10. .OR. is another way to describe the desired facts. LIST FOR
SALE:PERSN = ‘BABBITT’ .OR. LOAN:AMT = ‘$70,000’ would
indicate you wanted to see records involving either Babbitt or a
loan of $70,000.
11. LIST FOR .NOT. SALE:PERSN = ‘BABBITT’ could help weed from
view, or the files, all records involving Babbitt.
12. Command files are programs that tell the machine how to
manipulate the data so you needn’t repeat complicated
procedures one by one. You might work out these files to simplify
your secretary’s work—or he or she might do the same for you.
■ ■ ■
■ ■ ■
Backups:
◼ V, “3-D” Versus Mail-Order Software—and How to Shop, page 319.
◼ VI, “Easy” Data Bases: Another View (Mensa Member Versus
InfoStar), page 323.
7 Graphics (or How a Mouse Helped Joe Shelton’s
Friends Stop Feeling Like Rats)
Would you feel like rat in a maze if you had a map like
this to guide
you to Apple executive Joe Shelton’s house? Indeed