Cost-Benefit Analysis

A Journalist’s Diary

Florian Schoppmeier
Of Pictures & Words
11 min readNov 30, 2023

--

The collection of Apple device I’ve used over the years includes two MacBook Pros, an iPad, two iPhones, various iPods, and accessories.
The collection of Apple device I’ve used over the years includes two MacBook Pros, an iPad, two iPhones, various iPods, and accessories.

It sat quietly on the cheap birch desk, gluing my fascinated eyes to its clean black lines with anticipation. I had waited for the day I would have my hands on a flat, clean-looking box like this one for a couple of years.

The day had arrived — finally. I was nervous. Would I like it? Would I find it worth the investment?

I hesitantly sliced the invisible plastic wrapper, lifted the top, and there she was: a shiny 15-inch lump of aluminum.

I still marveled at the difference in build quality (if compared to my barely three-year-old but battered Toshiba laptop) as the starting chime signaled that my first-ever Macintosh was coming to life.

That was 17 years ago, a long time in which I never looked back. Several recent developments, however, caused me to sit down and evaluate my computing future.

That’s an exercise I probably wouldn’t have considered worthy of writing about. I did, however, learn a few valuable lessons that may be of interest or even value to some. So, here it goes.

It’s neither a tech review nor a Mac vs. Windows laundry list or critique festival. It’s just my comparative observations and reasons for picking one over the other.

Besides, writing it down, as is so often the case, is one of the best exercises to check the last few boxes of dealing with complex problems and making informed decisions.

The below explains what exactly I analyzed to determine my future computing needs. I’ll explain the key lessons I learned and how I arrived at a conclusion I wasn’t expecting.

The need to evaluate

Computers are essential tools in journalism, just as in almost all industries and our personal lives. Computers and the subsequent digital revolution propelled journalism and changed it significantly, just like the printing press, radio, and television.

We spend much time with those devices, and the more we feel at home using them, the more efficient we can be and the more energy we can direct to the creative elements of work.

In short, a computer needs to work for me, no one else. If it does, the two of us click and chime away. Over time, workflows develop and become second nature, like automated tasks. Technical specifications are almost irrelevant (I realize creative workflows require certain things).

Changing machinery is difficult because it means adapting how I do what I do. Sometimes that’s easy, sometimes that’s hard.

Still remembering how I never clicked with my Toshiba and its Windows XP engine, and knowing how well I’ve always clicked with the Mac, I never thought I would take another look at Windows. Moving back is an endeavor I imagine would be hard.

When Macs become pricier with every refresh; when it feels like Apple wants to punish its customers for even considering upgrades of vital components; when the Mac configuration your brain considers feels like a compromise compared to the configuration your heart desires; when MacOS of today seems to lose the qualities that lured you in all those versions ago in the age of the tiger, curiosity awakens in the inquiring mind.

Age of the tiger refers to the first MacOS I had regular contact with — OS X Tiger. I don’t have a DVD of that version, but I found copies of the two successors, Leopard and Snow Leopard, which also ran on my first MacBook Pro.

How far has the other side come? Could I be happy with Windows and non-Apple hardware? Could I save a big chunk of cash in the process? Resources I could use for other useful pieces — say cameras, lenses, monitors, hard drives, maybe even non-work life enhancers?

Despite being happy with my Mac, a reality check of my ways — installing and trying Windows — seemed worthwhile for two reasons.

With all those questions in mind, I wanted to find out if I still saw a need for the Apple tax, especially considering it gets heftier and borderline ridiculous (at least in Europe).

Secondly, considering the age of my current companion, a late 2013 MacBook Pro that’ll turn 10 in a few weeks, I realize I have to make a change sooner rather than later. And while the machine still operates to my satisfaction, I’d like to be ready when that moment arrives.

Understanding the true costs

Installing Windows on an Intel-based Mac is easy enough. I still remember doing it once before on the 2006 MacBook Pro I started these lines with.

Windows 10 is the latest officially supported system. After some unnecessary and unsuccessful fun trying to install a MacOS newer than Big Sur (a topic of its own), I prepared Boot Camp, the Mac’s helper to run a Windows sidekick.

Once installed, I wanted to compare key workflows for me. And get a feeling for the operating system and the software I use.

I realize a Boot Camp-enabled Windows experience on a Mac will not behave exactly like a dedicated Windows machine, but it should suffice to gauge a reaction. I expected the most enlightening takeaways in my reaction to the user interface and all those little details.

Left The macOS Big Sur desktop with dock and menu bar. Right The Windows 10 desktop with (simplified) taskbar.

Let’s compare the operating systems first.

“Different but useable” was my conclusion after the first two days. While the start was rocky and a visual shock to my system, I quickly got up to speed and realized that I could do everything I needed to, save hardware money, and move on with life.

But life is a bit more complicated than that, I’m afraid.

While I enjoy how far Windows has come since the good old XP days and how snappy boot times are even on an ancient machine that’s not designed to run with this OS, being at home feels different.

Windows feels heavier and less refined (from a visual perspective and my familiarity with MacOS for the last 17 years).

The system begs for my attention far too often, gets in my way when I want to be left alone, and requires far too much decluttering and personalization.

The taskbar greeted me with a search bar I didn’t need (a colorful graphic that points to an auto-suggested topic included). Once I had that turned off, the standard browser started popping up, eventually presenting me with a massive search bar slap in the middle of the desktop. “Here, why not try me? I’m really useful,” it screamed in my face.

Left The Windows 10 desktop with a taskbar that still includes a large search bar. Center The search bar that greeted me one day on Windows 10. Right That’s what the Edge browser looked like when I opened it for the first time (and once I had the “recommended browser settings” pop-up out of the way, another window revealed itself behind it).

Having to dig into a window called “Device Manager” wasn’t Windows’s fault (it was because of Apple’s half-baked trackpad drivers), but I haven’t had to worry about drivers or cryptic system settings like that in 17 years.

I find the Mac’s Finder simplistic (in a positive way). It gives me what I need to manage files and folders and hides all the distracting nuts and bolts that Windows’s File Explorer still includes. I rely on tabs (granted, version 11 brings those to Windows), and love that external devices like hard drives appear on my desktop without any sound or pop-up notification. And when I don’t need the drive any longer, it’s a simple drag to the trash bin or right-click and eject to disconnect. On Windows, I remember forgetting this frequently while being annoyed by audio and visual alarms that I had connected something. Those memories came to life far too quickly.

The Windows Device Manager and trackpad driver settings that I had to dig through to get the MacBook’s trackpad to work again after trying to install custom trackpad drivers that promised more functionality than Apple’s standard drivers for Windows.
The MacOS Finder (left) and the File Explorer in Windows 10 (right).
Left Using snap layouts in Windows 10, I opened a markdown text file in iA Writer on the left, a Chrome browser window (top right), and File Explorer (bottom right).Right While window snapping is more limited on the Mac, one feature I couldn’t find in Windows 10 is splitting full-screen video playback, which I sometimes use for note taking.
Left Task View in Windows 10 with multiple desktops. Right Mission Control in macOS Big Sur, a feature I enjoy using to manage working with multiple applications and desktops.

Multi-tasking on Windows is neat. I wish MacOS had proper window snapping. At the same time, using Mission Control, especially with a simple swipe on the trackpad, feels more logical to my brain. I’m irritated that Windows’s full-screen mode feels more like an afterthought. It’s not, but that’s how it feels being used to the Mac’s implementation.

I also rarely use split-screen layouts. But that’s just me. My brain responds better to having program windows in their respective sizes and switching back and forth, which gives me a clean workspace without requiring much hassle to move back and forth.

Left When I needed to search for the preferences in Chrome to tweak the language settings, I realized how used I am to having a menu bar at the top of the screen. Chrome is not the best example because it simply duplicates the Windows menu on the Mac, but I rarely touch it because of the menu bar. Center I’ll get to Photo Mechanic below, but turning off a tool bar in one of its windows is a quick menu bar click away on Mac. On Windows, the only way to hide it is to go into full-screen mode. Right Once I had the custom trackpad drivers installed, the Windows settings offered configurations that rival those on MacOS. From what I’ve found so far, however, how close trackpads get to Apple’s trackpads seems to be heavily dependent on the device one ends up with.

I was surprised how much I missed the menu bar and searched for minutes to locate the missing commands inside Chrome’s own menu system. While we talk about Chrome, the seemingly small detail of interface languages comes to mind.

With everything set to U.S. English, I downloaded Chrome only to be greeted by a German browser interface. Ahem, how exactly can I switch this back? Why do I have to switch this back?

While I’m happy to conclude that if needed, I could move back into the Windows world, the questions are: do I want to, and is it worth it?

Left One small detail I missed: being able to preview files in Finder. This is all File Explorer was willing to show me. Right On MacOS, in contrast, tapping the space bar on the keyboard pops out a preview window like the one pictured here. It works for a variety of file types, can be resized, and can even show a gallery of files.

To help me answer those questions, I looked at some of the essential software in my arsenal — Photo Mechanic and Lightroom Classic for the visual side and writing solutions.

The main window in Photo Mechanic, the Contact Sheet. The light mode/dark mode toggle in the sofwtare’s preferences affects the entire user interface in Windows but only the text input windows in MacOS. Left to right Photo Mechanic Contact Sheet light mode Windows, dark mode Windows, and on MacOS.

I was shocked, without trying to sound dramatic, when I opened Photo Mechanic in Windows for the first time.

I had no prior experience and had never seen it demonstrated with Windows before. I didn’t have lofty expectations, either. It’s not the most dazzling interface on Mac. It does what it is supposed to do. It doesn’t get in the way. That’s exactly what software like this should do if you ask me.

I prefer dark mode. The Windows version (left and center) can set the right info pane to lighter colors. The MacOS preview viewing screen always looks like it is pictured here (right).

But the Mac version blends into MacOS, like any other software I’ve touched in the last 10 years. Even Microsoft’s products fit in well despite employing their own visual identity.

The Windows version of Photo Mechanic feels unchanged (visually) from the program’s early days in the 1990s.

Photo Mechanic’s IPTC template in Windows (top and bottom left) and MacOS (top and bottom right). While dark mode on Windows affects the entire user interface, he Contact Sheet and Preview windows on Mac are always dark. Input dialogues such as the IPTC template can be light or dark

Yes. After finding my rhythm, I realized it does exactly what the Mac version does. But the experience of using it feels a lot different.

Lightroom Classic is its own special case. It’s a busy interface, no matter the platform. It taxes the system — at times even for very basic tasks. In my eyes, the Windows version suffers the same visual hardship I found with Photo Mechanic (and many other aspects on Windows — see screenshots).

Adobe’s Lightroom Classic in Windows 10 (left) and MacOS (right).

Is that necessarily a problem for getting work done? No, of course not.

But there seems to be a value to using MacOS that I hadn’t quite expected to find. Or put differently, saving money on hardware would come with its own costs.

Sucked in

I’m not an Apple fanboy. I might have been in the early days when I had iPods and got my first Mac. I watched the keynotes with great enthusiasm back then.

I don’t anymore. I find them cringeworthy PR spectacles at best.

The pricing is getting ridiculous, charges for RAM or SSD top-ups are diabolic, and the push to annual upgrades — while economically understandable — is plain sad. iPhone prices are a long way from meeting my idea of worth for such devices (I admit, though, I barely use mine for more than calls, messaging, and checking the news). MacOS and iOS have, just like Windows, quirks and kinks I wish Apple would address.

And still, I could rely on two laptops in 17 years when my Windows counterpart barely made it to three. In two weeks of using Windows side-by-side, I met old frustrations I had forgotten because I never encountered them.

There’s more to it than a price tag

The price tag difference is real. No doubt.

I’ve recently spent more time on computer manufacturers’ websites than I dare to admit. I found many promising devices. The gap varies based on what devices one pits against each other and how many spec upgrades one includes. I found a difference anywhere between € 300 and € 800. You can probably widen that gap or make it narrower. But I’m also still a while away from having to make a purchase, so a window is good enough.

I haven’t found a single device, however, where I could conclude that I’m confident I wouldn’t regret picking it to save some money on the hardware.

Whether it’s noise under load, shorter battery life, question marks on build quality or longevity, missing hardware keyboard layout options, questions over how the trackpad compares (a feature I rely heavily on), size and weight, or screen options, there’s always one or more factors that made me flinch.

Software is a consideration as well.

While I’ve said I enjoy even the free browser versions of Office (not a long-term option), on the Mac, I can easily live without paying for Office, especially because I prefer writing in much simpler software anyway.

Left iA Writer for Windows in full-screen mode. Right iA Writer for Mac in full-screen mode (hiding the organizer panel, which I couldn’t hide in Windows without also hiding the library pane).

But on Windows, I would most certainly feel like I must subscribe (I know there are less expensive ways of acquiring usage rights). Adding that up to the lifespan of a laptop, say 5–7 years, and that shiny hardware difference has all but disappeared — for me, at least.

And while I have a license for Final Cut Pro X, I didn’t quite warm with Da Vinci Resolve when I sampled it. Using Premiere Pro would stream an additional 25 € into Adobe’s accounts — each month.

Whether it’s feeling at home with the OS, enjoying the software I rely on, or hardware specifications, I realize there’s a price to pay down the road for saving the Apple tax upfront. A computer decision is about more than the initial price tag.

And I haven’t even mentioned the seamless integration of computer, phone, and — if desired — tablet that I’ve come to enjoy in parts. That’s a fragile structure that would crumble if one element got removed.

It was a worthwhile exercise nonetheless. Playing with Windows opened my eyes to alternatives and made me consider my options.

While I’m nearly certain nothing will change, I can move forward knowing I’ll be making a well-informed decision.

And with that, I’d like to return to more enjoyable tasks. Stop by again on Saturday for some photography and a calm river sunrise — if you like.

--

--