It was as if Jobs’s brain circuits were missing a device that would modulate the extreme spikes
of impulsive opinions that popped into his mind. So in dealing with him, the Mac team adopted an
audio concept called a “low pass filter.” In processing his input, they learned to reduce the
amplitude of his high-frequency signals. That served to smooth out the data set and provide a less
jittery moving average of his evolving attitudes. “After a few cycles of him taking alternating
extreme positions,” said Hertzfeld, “we would learn to low pass filter his signals and not react to
the extremes.”
Was Jobs’s unfiltered behavior caused by a lack of emotional sensitivity? No. Almost the
opposite. He was very emotionally attuned,
able to read people and know their psychological strengths and vulnerabilities. He could stun an
unsuspecting victim with an emotional towel-snap, perfectly aimed. He intuitively knew when
someone was faking it or truly knew something. This made him masterful at cajoling, stroking,
persuading, flattering, and intimidating people. “He had the uncanny
capacity to know exactly
what your weak point is, know what will make you feel small, to make you cringe,” Joanna
Hoffman said. “It’s a common trait in people who are charismatic and know how to manipulate
people. Knowing that he can crush you makes you feel weakened and eager for his approval, so
then he can elevate you and put you on a pedestal and own you.”
Ann Bowers became an expert at dealing with Jobs’s perfectionism, petulance, and prickliness.
She had been the human resources director at Intel, but had stepped aside after she married its
cofounder Bob Noyce. She joined Apple in 1980 and served as a calming mother figure who
would step in after one of Jobs’s tantrums. She would go to his office, shut the door, and gently
lecture him. “I know, I know,” he would say. “Well, then, please stop doing it,” she would insist.
Bowers recalled, “He would be good for a while, and then a week or so later I would get a call
again.” She realized that he could barely contain himself. “He had these huge expectations, and if
people didn’t deliver, he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t control himself.
I could understand why
Steve would get upset, and he was usually right, but it had a hurtful effect. It created a fear factor.
He was self-aware, but that didn’t always modify his behavior.”
Jobs became close to Bowers and her husband, and he would drop in at their Los Gatos Hills
home unannounced. She would hear his motorcycle in the distance and say, “I guess we have
Steve for dinner again.” For a while she and Noyce were like a surrogate family. “He was so
bright and also so needy. He needed a grown-up, a father figure, which Bob became, and I became
like a mother figure.”
There were some upsides to Jobs’s demanding and wounding behavior. People who were not
crushed ended up being stronger. They did better work, out of both fear and an eagerness to
please. “His behavior can be emotionally draining, but if you survive, it works,” Hoffman said.
You could also push back—sometimes—and
not only survive but thrive. That didn’t always work; Raskin tried it,
succeeded for a while, and
then was destroyed. But if you were calmly confident, if Jobs sized you up and decided that you
knew what you were doing, he would respect you. In both his personal and his professional life
over the years, his inner circle tended to include many more strong people than toadies.
The Mac team knew that. Every year, beginning in 1981, it gave out an award to the person
who did the best job of standing up to him. The award was partly a joke, but also partly real, and
Jobs knew about it and liked it. Joanna Hoffman won the first year. From an Eastern European
refugee family, she had a strong temper and will. One day, for example, she discovered that Jobs
had changed her marketing projections in a way she found totally reality-distorting. Furious, she
marched to his office. “As I’m climbing the stairs, I told his assistant I am going to take a knife
and stab it into his heart,” she recounted. Al Eisenstat, the corporate counsel, came running out to
restrain her. “But Steve heard me out and backed down.”
Hoffman won the award again in 1982. “I remember being envious of Joanna, because she
would stand up to Steve and I didn’t
have the nerve yet,” said Debi Coleman, who joined the Mac
team that year. “Then, in 1983, I got the award. I had learned you had to stand up for what you
believe, which Steve respected. I started getting promoted by him after that.” Eventually she rose
to become head of manufacturing.
One day Jobs barged into the cubicle of one of Atkinson’s engineers and uttered his usual “This
is shit.” As Atkinson recalled, “The guy said, ‘No it’s not, it’s actually the best way,’ and he
explained to Steve the engineering trade-offs he’d made.” Jobs backed down. Atkinson taught his
team to put Jobs’s words through a translator. “We learned to interpret ‘This is shit’ to actually be
a question that means, ‘Tell me why this is the best way to do it.’” But the story had a coda, which
Atkinson also found instructive. Eventually the engineer found an even better way to perform the
function that Jobs had criticized. “He did it better because Steve had challenged him,” said
Atkinson, “which shows you can push back on him but should also listen, for he’s usually right.”
Jobs’s prickly behavior was partly driven by his perfectionism and
his impatience with those who made compromises in order to get a product out on time and on
budget. “He could not make trade-offs well,” said Atkinson. “If someone didn’t care to make their
product perfect, they were a bozo.” At the West Coast Computer Faire in April 1981, for example,
Adam Osborne released the first truly portable personal computer. It was not great—it had a five-
inch screen and not much memory—but it worked well enough.
As Osborne famously declared,
“Adequacy is sufficient. All else is superfluous.” Jobs found that approach to be morally
appalling, and he spent days making fun of Osborne. “This guy just doesn’t get it,” Jobs
repeatedly railed as he wandered the Apple corridors. “He’s not making art, he’s making shit.”
One day Jobs came into the cubicle of Larry Kenyon, an engineer who was working on the
Macintosh operating system, and complained that it was taking too long to boot up. Kenyon
started to explain, but Jobs cut him off. “If it could save a person’s life, would you find a way to
shave ten seconds off the boot time?” he asked. Kenyon allowed that he probably could. Jobs went
to a whiteboard and showed that if there were five million people using the Mac, and it took ten
seconds extra to turn it on every day, that added up to three hundred million or so hours per year
that people would save, which was the equivalent of at least one hundred lifetimes saved per year.
“Larry was suitably impressed, and a few weeks later he came back and it booted up twenty-eight
seconds faster,” Atkinson recalled. “Steve had a way of motivating by looking at the bigger
picture.”
The result was that the Macintosh team came to share Jobs’s passion for making a great
product, not just a profitable one. “Jobs thought of himself as an artist, and he encouraged the
design team to think of ourselves that way too,” said Hertzfeld. “The
goal was never to beat the
competition, or to make a lot of money. It was to do the greatest thing possible, or even a little
greater.” He once took the team to see an exhibit of Tiffany glass at the Metropolitan Museum in
Manhattan because he believed they could learn from Louis Tiffany’s example of creating great
art that could be mass-produced. Recalled Bud Tribble, “We said to ourselves, ‘Hey, if we’re
going to make things in our lives, we might as well make them beautiful.’”
Was all of his stormy and abusive behavior necessary?
Probably not, nor was it justified. There were other ways to have motivated his team. Even
though the Macintosh would turn out to be great, it was way behind schedule and way over budget
because of Jobs’s impetuous interventions. There was also a cost in brutalized human feelings,
which caused much of the team to burn out. “Steve’s contributions could have been made without
so many stories about him terrorizing folks,” Wozniak said. “I like being more patient and not
having so many conflicts. I think a company can be a good family. If the Macintosh project had
been run my way, things probably would have been a mess. But I think if it had been a mix of
both our styles, it would have been better than just the way Steve did it.”
But even though Jobs’s style could be demoralizing, it could also be oddly inspiring. It infused
Apple employees with an abiding passion to create groundbreaking products and a belief that they
could accomplish what seemed impossible. They had T-shirts made that read “90
hours a week
and loving it!” Out of a fear of Jobs mixed with an incredibly strong urge to impress him, they
exceeded their own expectations. “I’ve learned over the years that when you have really good
people you don’t have to baby them,” Jobs later explained. “By expecting them to do great things,
you can get them to do great things. The original Mac team taught me that A-plus players like to
work together, and they don’t like it if you tolerate B work. Ask any member of that Mac team.
They will tell you it was worth the pain.”
Most of them agree. “He would shout at a meeting, ‘You asshole, you never do anything
right,’” Debi Coleman recalled. “It was like an hourly occurrence. Yet I consider myself the
absolute luckiest person in the world to have worked with him.”