This year marks the 18 19th year of my use of Revit: so my Revit installation can now legally drink.
The problem is Revit has already worked it’s way down to the cooking sherry and I don’t like the way its eyeing the metho-and-boot-polish.
Seriously: go home Revit, you’re drunk.
It’s time to face facts, Revit. You have a problem.
It all started as a beautiful summer romance back in those heady days of 2000. The Sydney Olympics were in full swing; I was working on huge projects in China; you were a pretty young thing who was so flexible and could do amazing things with your families.
We fell in love.
Through the noughties we did amazing work together – you grew and flourished; you even gained recognition and those all so important letters after your name – BIM.
Each year our skills together increased – we did better and more beautiful work together – faster, stronger. We moved as one.
But then it all changed didn’t it?
In about 2009 you had a facelift; and I’d be right in thinking it changed something deep inside you, too. Revit, you stopped caring about me. You stopped that growth and change that made me love you. You stopped being that skillful young thing.
No Revit, shut the hell up – you’ve said enough, and I don’t give a damn that I can now draw stairs in pieces, or that you render faster.
Actually – have you looked at your renderings lately? They’re childish – actually that’s unfair. I’ve seen children do better renderings. On software that costs nothing. I’ve seen better images made on iPads – but you keep telling me how good you render. You don’t – and haven’t for ten years now. Look at your siblings Max & Maya – they’ve grown, they’ve changed – even though they’re both getting on in years too.
Each year Revit, each bloody year you promise to improve, you promise to make things right. Each year you promise to improve, but since 2010 each day I come to work to a room littered with empty ‘Subscription’ bottles; you just keeping begging for more.
For what, Revit? Just to keep you hanging around? You’re suddenly going to get better this year? Fix your bugs? For good this time?
All you’ve done is worm your way into my life to try to make yourself indispensable. The way you don’t talk to anyone else; not even your past self. You’re jealous of any other software I try, and you just stonewall them. Sketchup. Fusion. Blender. You won’t even play nicely with your younger siblings like Live, or 3DS Max Live or whatever it’s called today. As for the new kids on the block, Unity and Unreal – well we have to force you to talk to 3DS Max, don’t we? Even then, it’s 3DS Max that has to do all the work, cleaning up the crap your leave littered everywhere; fixing up your pitifully crude efforts to do something as simple as colouring-in.
You won’t even talk to that brazen hussy Excel; we have to buy you expensive accessories just to persuade you to mumble a few lines.
The world has moved on, Revit. You haven’t.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending to like you, Revit.
I really don’t know.