Officially I was at the conference to learn about programming System 7 and bring back the highly anticipated, super-think, Inside Macintosh Programming Guide for System 7. But the joke was on them because not only wasn't I interested in programming System 7 but also overtly I was at the conference to interview and schmooze. I was thinking about moving to San Francisco and had lined up a few interviews with folks who had left Cricket Software for companies with sunnier atriums like Ashton-Tate and Macromedia. Though I did get a job offer from Macromedia I didn't pursue it as Apple, Cricket, and several other Mac companies in the late 80's were starting to have a hard time and layoff rumors spread like a Windows 98 virus.

For those who don't know, Cricket Software was the Macintosh software pearl of the Delaware Valley (or a least Chester County). For a good while, between 1985 and 1988, they were growing by leaps and bounds, hiring any and all Mac talent they could find in the area. I was employee #50 and was hired a technical support specialist. Bruce Salkovitz (brother of Mac accounting guru Todd Salkovitz) was also hired shortly thereafter to help out in support.

As the talking we did on the phone often carried over to discussion off the phone, tech support tended to be a lively little section of the building. On more than one occasion we forgot to turn on the answering machine at 5 p.m. and were obliged to answer the phone. But since no one wanted to take a call after hours I would sometimes answer and read off a piece of paper "Cricket Software is now closed. Technical support is available from...", etc. Yes, it's true.

On one support call I spoke with an absolutely furious Cricket Graph user ongoingly demanded to speak to the company owner, Jim Rafferty, about a losing a file that was of no fault of our software. When I explained Jim had left for the day the angered customer demanded, with a variety of cursing peppered in, that I call him at home. After several unproductive minutes I decided to try a creative approach. I asked the caller if he would be willing to speak with Mr. Rafferty's son, Chip, instead. He agreed so I called over Bruce Salkovitz and asked him to be 'Chip Rafferty'--a 100% fictional person. Bruce engaged the call with poise and grace explaining, 'Dad hates it when Cricket Graph crashes.' Another incensed user was given relief.

A few other Top 10 Cricket tech support stories include the user who mailed in a Polaroid photo of the Mac screen, displaying the software's About Box, as proof of ownership. But I think the best story was the three pages, tattered, hand written, and difficult to read letter sent from Somalia. Halfway through the letter a request was made to donate assorted software to a leper colony. I dropped the letter, headed for the first aid kit, and emptied a bottle of rubbing alcohol on my hands. Understandably we didn't archive the letter.

Another hidden benefit of working at Cricket was the interesting Mac 'celebs' you get to meet. Many of you recognize authors like David Pogue and Robin Williams but perhaps you'd be interested to know about Harriton High School graduates Susan Kare and Andy Hertzfeld. Susan Kare was Apple's original interface designer. Susan designed the Mac's look and feel--the icons, windows, controls, the Chicago font, everything that gave the Mac it's envied interface.

But what I always thought was most interesting were her original choices for the names of the fonts included with the Mac. It turns out Chicago, Geneva, and New York didn't come till later. The original names were the stations of Septa's R5 suburban train line such as Rosemont, Ardmore, Haverford, and Bryn Mawr.