The Silicon Jungle by David H. Rothman

furniture to do that—just common sense. For a computer operator, says David Eisen of the Newspaper Guild, a straight-back chair can become “a ticket to the orthopedic ward.” You might also shop for a palm rest and, if you’re short, a leg rest. An easellike copy holder could help as well. And so can enough desk surface, shelves, or file cabinets for your paperwork. Why buy a detachable keyboard if you can’t move it around because your desk is too cluttered? Jon Ryburg, an ergonomics expert with the Facility Management Institute, a Michigan think tank owned by Herman Miller furniture, says computer gear may take up as much as 40 percent of a desktop. And yet does the space requirement for paperwork decline by that percentage? Hardly. So unless you enjoy seeing chairs used as desks, you’d better plan your furniture well. Not that all improvisation is bad, especially if you’re a professional or small businessman working at home. My Kaypro, for instance, rests atop an old carton from a toy store, and I’ve bought some little gray legs, the color of the case, to tilt the screen back. That takes care of my ergonomics. Of course, my requirements in this case aren’t the same as those of a company with dozens of VDT users. Joan’s old supervisor at the insurance company might scowl at this haywire, but so far I’m comfortable. I would be much less casual about buying furniture for others. For example, I’d make certain that the chairs and tables would be not just adjustable but easily so—and understandably so. Even an IBM salesman couldn’t puzzle out all the ways to adjust the ergonomic furniture on which a Displaywriter sat. Despite such a flaw, however, special computer furniture isn’t just a frill. An ergonomic desk and chair might cost several hundred dollars more than an ordinary set—even a lesser-known brand may—but your furniture could be good for a decade. And just a 5 percent increase in a cleric’s productivity may pay back the extra investment in less than two years. At the least, buy an adjustable chair and, ideally, a table of variable height. “A very short woman,” argues Bob Waters, “may sit with her eyes almost a foot closer to the floor than a six-foot-two-inch man’s.” The home-row keys on the keyboard—the row including the letters A, S, D, and so on—could be twenty-nine or thirty inches above the floor in a _typical_ case.[43] Other measurements? Upper screen-eye distance: 17¼ to 19¾ inches. Center of the screen: 10-20 degrees below the horizontal plane of the operator’s eyes. Angle between upper and lower arms: between 80 and 120 degrees. Wrist angle: 10 degrees or less. The keyboard is at or below elbow height, and the table allows enough room for your legs. Footnote 43: The advice on keyboard height is from Military Standard 1472C, _Human Engineering Design Criteria for Military Systems Equipment and Facilities_, published by the army in May 1981 and summarized in the July 1982 _Popular Computing_. Your goal, of course, isn’t to make anyone fit the charts showing average distances. It’s just to keep people productive and comfortable. Above all, when shopping around to do this, be skeptical. “A lot of so-called ergonomic things,” says Waters, “aren’t ergonomic at all.” He grimaces when he sees $300 wooden tables with fixed-level platforms for computer monitors. They’re an expensive way to strain your neck. “The normal line of sight for human beings is fifteen degrees below horizontal,” Waters says. “People normally look slightly down even when they hold their heads up.” Needless to say, you and your neck will come out ahead if, using an old Apple II, you don’t set the monitor atop disk drives resting on the computer. Ignore the ads showing this compact pile. Their purpose is to sell computers, not save necks. Lighting Bright fluorescents are to computer users’ eyes what a _drip, drip, drip_, is to the foreheads of Chinese water-torture victims. They’re rude, persistent distractions. And as with the water torture, the fluorescents’ victims may be captives of sorts. How many people can dictate the lighting in their companies’ offices? Many. But not all. So the letters and numbers on their screens, the facts they need to do their jobs, may compete with the glare beamed off the glass. What’s more, the culprit needn’t be just the fluorescents that light so many American offices. “The window with sunshine streaming in may still be a psychologically gratifying link with the outside world,” says Eisen, “but it spells plain eyestrain and perhaps headache for every VDT operator within range of the glare.” Even brightly painted walls can sin here. So can glossy paper. In fact, _any_ paper is bad in one over-powering way. The proper lighting level for paperwork is much higher than for computer work. And yet most computer operators have yet to see the much-touted paperless office. How do you keep eyes comfortable with both paper and computer screens? Here are some _possible_ solutions to the lighting problem: