Vista, I'm told, is still listed in the Encarta dictionary as a profane word (or it would be, if Encarta hadn't bit the bucket in 2009). Released to businesses in 2006 and consumers in 2007, Vista tried to improve on XP's security, but only succeeded in alienating an entire generation of Windows users.
Then came Windows 7, and all was right with the world once again. Proponents of the "good Windows, bad Windows" analysis claim that consumer versions of Windows run from great to lousy and back again. That's certainly a discernible trend from Windows 98 onward.
Microsoft misstep No. 9: Windows UltimateWindows Vista shipped in several versions, the most extravagant of which was Windows Vista Ultimate. Combining all of the features of Vista Business and Vista Home Premium, it also added the exclusive Windows Vista Ultimate Extras.
Ahem: "Windows Ultimate Extras are programs, services, and premium content for Windows Vista Ultimate. These features are available only to those who own a copy of Windows Vista Ultimate."
That's the promise. The reality was less impressive. Ultimate contained Windows DreamScene, a handful of videos to be used as desktop wallpaper; Hold 'Em Poker; three extra sound packs; and a puzzle game starring a robot -- and was later released free. The, uh, loyal Microsoft customers who spent an extra $100 for Vista Ultimate got burned big time.
Microsoft learned its lesson. Windows 7 Ultimate, under Sinofsky, only promised -- and delivered -- a combination of all the features in Win7 Home Premium and Professional. The loyal customers were never compensated.
In the halcyon days of Windows 95, 98, and 2000, anyone installing Windows had to provide a serial number. The serial numbers weren't checked against a master database, so the same serial number could be used to install multiple copies of Windows.
With the consumer version of Windows XP, Microsoft added a validation step, where a specific serial number was matched against a key constructed from serial numbers from PC components. The resulting combination is checked against a central database. Changing your motherboard or network card, or in some cases other combinations of hardware, triggered a revalidation. Fail the validation, and Windows wouldn't work -- you had to call Microsoft to beg for forgiveness.
Hardware manufacturers had a different process for activating machines before they shipped. Volume licensees were given serial numbers that worked in bulk.
Windows XP SP1 cut customers some slack: It added a three-day grace period, so you could continue to use your Windows PC for three days while trying to get it reactivated.
Then the offal hit the fan. Over the course of several years, in many confusing steps, Microsoft rolled out its Genuine Advantage program to all Windows XP and later versions.
The earliest versions of WGA included a program called WGA Notifications that runs whenever you log on and validates your Windows license. They also included an ActiveX control that validated your license every time you tried to download specific Microsoft products, including Internet Explorer 7 and Microsoft Security Essentials. You were also prohibited from using Windows Update to get security patches (although you could download Critical patches manually). WGA reached its nadir in Windows Vista, where failing the WGA check meant your machine was put into "reduced-functionality mode," where you could go onto the Web for an hour at a stretch, before Windows locks up.
Predictably, the validation servers borked; false positives came to light. Microsoft got caught shipping data from unsuspecting PC users to the Microsoft servers once a day. Windows Genuine Spyware became the nom de guerre.
Howls, lawsuits, threats, cracks, and generally furious customers eventually drove Microsoft to backtrack. Reduced-functionality mode evolved into a paper tiger, with harmless balloon notifications about ungeniune wayward ways, and an irritating tendency to turn the desktop wallpaper black.
In Windows 7, WGA became Windows Activation Technology, no doubt to avoid the venom aimed at its predecessor. The newly renamed copy protection scheme retains its toothless nature, even in Windows 8. Microsoft can learn from its mistakes.
Some of the customer-confusing moves are just silly. In 1991, Microsoft jumped Word for Windows from Version 2 to Version 6, with no intervening version numbers. Word 2.0 was part of Office 3.0, but Word 6.0 was part of Office 4.0. When Microsoft released Office 95, it increased the version numbers of all of its components to 7.0: Word 7.0, Excel 7.0 (also called Excel 95; there was no Excel 6), PowerPoint 7.0 (there were no Versions 5 or 6), and Schedule+ 7.0, which morphed into Outlook.
Some of the branding is worse than silly. Stupid changes made years ago continue to confuse Microsoft users today. Consider how many email clients Microsoft supports at this moment. I can think of seven: