Deciding what to buy when one makes a major technological investment is no picnic.  We seem to go through it in our family several times a year.  First, there's the decision whether we need the item – will it significantly improve our lives, can we afford it, is it really necessary, etc.  Then, if we answer these questions affirmatively, we do hours of research.  Technology itself makes the search possible because one can go online and read myriad facts and opinions about the product, though the net result (no pun intended) may be utter confusion.  What are we to decide when one reviewer says, "This [product] is a piece of junk," while another says, "This is the best [product] I've ever had"?

I try to look at the professional reviews first.  However, I have two problems with them.  First, the professionals often write in technical jargon that I don't understand.  "IPS interface with a/c/g integrated modality" – I made that up, but you get the idea – doesn't mean anything to me, and I'm not sure whether it's something I want or need.  I've progressed enough that I know megahertz from megabytes, but research into technological purchases is complicated enough without requiring a 1,000-page handbook of technical terminology to understand the reviews.  The second problem I have with professional reviews is my skeptical distrust of people who review products for a living.  How do I know that they aren't getting a kickback – or at least a bunch of free stuff – for writing a positive review or toning down an otherwise negative one?  Hey, I know that textbook publishers send tens of thousands of free "desk copies" to college professors in the hopes that they will adopt them, thus selling hundreds of copies to students.

Reviews by actual users – voluntary man or woman on the street comments – therefore make up the second tier of my research.  However, I have misgivings here too.  How do I know the reviewer is not some flake?  Maybe the reviewer's inability to use the product is not the result of a defect in the product but of a deficiency in the user's intelligence?  My own bias comes into play, too.  The user may be knowledgeable and right on target, but if the review is rife with misspellings and garbled sentences, I am likely to disregard it.  On the other hand, a well-written review may come from an English major who is technologically challenged and therefore incapable of evaluating the product.

Reviews in magazines such as Consumer Reports are helpful, but there's a big problem here too.  Nowadays, in the technology field especially, dozens of iterations of the same line exist.  The Turbo R1766 may be described ass a lemon, the Turbo R2766 may be okay, and the Turbo R9677 may seem better than either.  However, the model rated in last month's issue of CR was the Turbo R9911.  Let's say that this last has great ratings, so we go to the store to buy it or, as a second option, the highly rated Turbo R9677.  The only models in stock are the Turbo G4534, Superturbo S5643, and Turbo R8976 – all of which we know nothing about.  Product model designations change so fast that print reviews can't keep up, especially those in Consumer Reports, which rely on consumer ratings.  By the time enough consumers have used a product for the ratings to be tabulated, that model has been discontinued.

Sometimes I have to go strictly by manufacturer, not model.  Here I rely heavily on word of mouth – the opinions of acquaintances who have owned a certain brand.  The problem here is not that I don't trust my friends; it's that finding a consensus among them is nearly impossible.  One may, for example, swear by Dell or Sony, whereas another may have nothing but horror stories about the same companies or products.  To hear some of them speak, one would think that a certain company should have gone bankrupt years ago because its products are hopelessly bad, whereas others should have dominated the market for that product because all their products are exceptionally good.  I myself have contributed to this popular static because I will sometimes recommend or damn a given brand based on one (or perhaps two) good or bad experiences – hardly what statisticians call a "representative sample."

Nevertheless, despite the hardships, I always go through this process.  When I'm going to buy a high-tech product that means shelling out several hundred or even a couple of thousand dollars, I'm not about to walk into a store totally unprepared and put myself utterly at the mercy of a sales pitch.  Sales people are trained to make sure that a customer who enters the store buys something, even if it means selling the customer an inferior product.  Though experience has taught me otherwise, I still go into an electronics or computer store with the naíve conviction that the sales staff know more about electronics and computers than I do.  In recent years, I have prepped for my visit by learning the answer to some technical question about the product, and I pose this question to the sales person.  If the answer is correct, I give that individual some credibility; if it is not, I either seek out a clerk who can answer it correctly or go to another store.  It's not an infallible ploy, but it helps.

What has prompted these reflections is that we recently purchased a new laptop.  It's hardly our first computer, but it is our first laptop.  I won't mention the brand because we haven't had it long enough to give it a fair trial, nor will I mention the model number because it probably won't exist by the time this article is published.  Nevertheless, I went through the process described above, printing out pages and pages of information, studying this information, reading reviews in CU and PC World, asking opinions of friends.  I tried to weigh conflicting reports and to navigate through a maze of model numbers for various brands.  Understand, too, that I was looking within a fairly narrow price range and mainly for laptops that were available at local stores.  If I had broadened the price range and included laptops available through online orders, I would still be collecting data.

When we actually ventured out to make our purchase, the best I could do was to narrow down the brands (mostly by having decided what I would not consider at all), to have in hand a few model numbers, and to have compiled a list of specs.  The only brand and model number that matched a laptop in the store turned out to be a machine that, even to my inexperienced eye, looked "junky."  Only the specs were of any value, and I had compiled that list with very little research.  We wound up looking for a laptop that met these specifications among the brands that we had not blackballed – and made our decision based on that and the look and feel of the display model.  It cost more than we expected to pay, and that was before we added in the extras (a case, a wireless mouse, some necessary software) – and, of course, an extended service contract.

On something like a laptop, one must have a service contract.  After all, despite all the hours of research and opinion-gathering, one could still have an expensive piece of junk.  In the final analysis, it's the luck of the draw.  It may be a month or more before I know whether we were lucky, for I'm too exhausted from the selection experience to spend much time playing with the new toy.  Isn't it wonderful how much easier technology has made our lives?