Back in the 1980s and early 90s I watched many episodes of the first widely popular American “judge” TV show, The People’s Court. In a courtroom setting limited to handling small claims cases, folks would bring their legal complaints before the always firm-but-fair Judge Joseph Wapner. One of Judge Wapners’ wise admonitions heard by many a despondent litigant has stayed with me through the years: “If you’re going to agree to something, get it in writing.”
I’m not sure what Judge Wapner’s take is on the sorry relationship that currently exists between computer software users and manufacturers, such as the contracts that are made between Windows computer users and Microsoft.
“Contract?” you say? Yes, contract — you know, that box full of legal mumbo-jumbo that pops up when you use or install a program for the first time, commonly known as the End User License Agreement, or EULA. Unless you agree to the terms of the EULA, you can’t install or use the software. Nobody can claim that the contract isn’t in writing, because there it is, staring you in the face. The problem is that very few computer users ever bother to read what they are agreeing to, either out of pure laziness or because they have been brainwashed into thinking that they are incapable of understanding such “complicated” legalese.
Most people think that when they plop down their hard-earned cash in exchange for an oversized cardboard box, a CD and a cheesy, hard-to-understand manual, that they actually own the computer program for which they paid. Au contraire, mon frere, for as Microsoft clearly states in their EULAs, “The software is licensed, not sold. This agreement only gives you some rights to use the software.” Most other software manufacturers have similar EULA clauses. If you do not agree to the terms of the license contract, then you are required to return the software to the store for a refund, or, in some cases, destroy the CD, the box and all of its contents.
I’ll admit that I have clicked “I Agree” to my share of unread EULAs. Recently, however, I was glad that I read one particular EULA before clicking, as I was about to agree to part with more money than I had initially been led to believe.
I often buy computer software and hardware for my customers, for which I am later reimbursed. I was about to make an online software purchase of an Internet filtering program using my credit card. This program is subscription-based, meaning that you must pay for a new subscription each year in order to continue receiving updates for the program. I was all set to click “I Agree,” until I decided to read the EULA. There, tucked away in clauses 13 and 14, I found the following: “Upon expiration of the Initial Term [the subscription] and any successive terms, this License shall automatically renew for a term equal in duration to the Initial Term. [The software company] will automatically charge your account for the applicable license fee at the then-current license fee rate, using the credit card information that you previously provided.”
“Whoa, back up,” I thought. “I don’t want my credit card being billed a year from now for a program that someone else will be using.” At that point, I cancelled the purchase. I’ll let my customer use their own credit card to buy the program, and I’ll warn them about the renewal clause. Next week, I’ll examine some specific EULA clauses, which should be part of the EULA Hall of Shame.