Joyce in America Eric Fenster Detroit, November 1986 I am writing this article on a PCW. But, wait!! Before you demand a refund from your news agent for selling trivia, maybe I'd better start over with...a dateline. I am writing this article on a PCW (no mean accomplishment). I returned here with faithful intentions after six months immersed in a relationship with Joyce: bring my discs, get another PCW and carry on with my work. After all, we'v e all read that Amstrad has come to the New World...right? My first telephone call was to the local computer centre of Sears, the international giant which distributes Amstrads in the US (and what a good feeling to think all that muscle was behind the marketting effort). Yes, I was told, you can buy your Amstrad at Sears, but not [distainfully] at the business computer centre. It only handles "real" computers; try the department store. Stiff upper lip, I gracefully accepted the putdown and made the next call, asking if I cou ld come down and collect a PCW8512. Those numbers proved baffling. "Oh, you mean that word processor? Yeah, we got one, but I don't know anything about 8512." The letdown was harder to take, and in a panic I went straight to the top, li terally, with a call to the world's tallest building: Sears World Trade Centre in Chicago. The person at the other end of the line shouted to office colleagues: "Anybody here know anything about an 8512?" They didn't; or rather, they knew that there wasn't a single one in the country. (So much for the software and data I had brought over on double- density discs.) "Say," I asked, thinking this might be the time to switch, "you wouldn't happen to know when you'll have the PC1512 available?" "The IBM compatible," I prompted, to fill the silence. "As far as I know, we're not going to import it." That was enough for me. I risked being stranded in America with 3-inch discs, Locoscript and other heresies--so I borrowed a car and raced to Sears (department store) to buy "that word processor." And I found it--hidden out of sight behind a display barrier. Now, when the sale of Joyce in the US was hardly more than a rumour last winter, I checked it out and learned that she would be available in April or May (and, knowing what Sugar had managed in Europe, was even tempted to buy company stock on that news). In fact, the machines arrived only at the end of October, so I had to explain to the salesperson how to load the disc. My emotions welled up at the famili arity of the oft-maligned Disc Management Screen. I decided next to investigate what was on the accessory shelves. There were discs of course. They came in packages of two, and there were all of five on sale. Discs, not packages. Somebody had pilfered one. And that was it: no in k ribbons, no software, nothing--just a remark on the advert brochure beside the machine that something called Supercalc2 could be ordered. True, one blank disc was in the carton, and an accessory catalogue and the Basic Manual are suppose d to be sent when the owner registration card is returned. (The latter should be noted by recent European purchasers who will find this manual has become an added value option.) Well, I made the purchase and had the first of two pleasant suprises. Sears began selling the PCW8256 at $800 (pounds 550). When the delusion subsided, so did the price: to $700, then to $500. And when my turn came, the computer in the till said to give me the machine for $480 (pounds 330). Not bad! The second surpise was that besides the floor model there was, in the giant warehouse, one--just one--other Joyce available. She was mine! After a half hour search: "Here is your Astard, Sir." It was when I unpacked Joyce that I began to note the differences. The word "computer" had disappeared from the keyboard label, and one had to look hard to realise that the PCW was, in fact, a computer; it was being sold strictly as a word processor. The shock came when I tried to attach my interface: the expansion port connector had been changed. I managed to obtain an unpublished Freefone number in Chicago for Sears technical assistance (calls to the published number are billed), and the call itself was like finding water after crossing the desert. At the other end of the line was somebody in this country with whom I could actually speak Amstrad. And we did, for more than half an hour--during much of which I in formed him of what was new in software and other Amstrad-oriented products in Europe. Anyway, the reason for the change was that the card connector used on expansion ports in Europe was considered electrically unsafe here. Indeed, when I looked more closely at the plaque on the back of the machine, there were all sorts of attestations to conformity with various legal safety standards. Caveat emptor over there! That may also be why the American version has an honest, shielded cable from the printer (which doesn't fall off) instead of the infamous ribbon type. So, I was either going to hunt for a very non-standard gender changer or order another interface. I chose the latter when I discovered that the CPS8256 could be had for $50 (34 pounds)--which should tell you what the profit margin is on that device. When I first saw "LocaScript" in the manual, I thought it must be a misprint. But, no, that is what it is called here. And I was stunned when I comprehended why. "Loco" in American means crazed, daft--and software with that name could be off- putting to potential buyers. To explain, I have to recount the famous anecdote of the Chevrolet Nova car which had great success in the United States, but didn't sell at all in Latin America until somebody noticed that "no va" in Spanish means "doesn't go." American business subsequently adopted an Aristotelian view of the world: The US was at the center, and would magnanimously cater to the cultural peculiarities of the others out there. "Locascript" meant tha t Americans were now the "natives" to whom one had to be sensitive. This was truly the Copernican revolution in marketting. Perhaps in vengeance, while both $ and pounds appear on the British keyboard, the pounds has been relegated to [EXTRA] in the American version. As for CP/M, I kept discovering new copies of the Digital Research licence agreement in the manuals, and wondered at DR's hysteria that some non-Amstrad owner here might get hold of their precious CP/M Plus on a 3-inch disc! What does all this mean to European Amstrad owners? The Detroit area may not be typical of national distribution, but it does show how a population base of five million has been treated. Besides, all support in this large country must come from Chicago. If Sears/Amstrad cannot do better in the US, what will be the stimulus for further software and peripherals being developed as the European sales market for Joyce becomes saturated? And since both administrative and technical personnel at Sears doubted that they would import the PC1512 (or that Americans would appreciate its advantages), a similar question can be raised about it. ’( åPAK EXEÈ’) €çPAK TXT*’F M