Steve Jobs began his journey to become a billionaire, the day he was fired from Apple.
One Thursday afternoon, Steve was walking through the company parking lot with Jean-Louis Gassée beside him.
—John is traveling to Beijing this weekend, —Steve said—. A three-day trip across the Pacific.
Steve stopped in front of Gassée’s car and looked him in the eye.
—And while that bozo is trapped thirty thousand feet in the air,—Steve continued—, I’m going to call an emergency board meeting. By the time he gets back, he won’t have a company to return to. He’ll be fired.
Gassée looked at Steve.
—Steve! Apple is not YOUR company. It is OUR company.
That same evening, Apple’s general counsel, Al Eisenstat, hosted a small barbecue at his house for Sculley, Gassée, and their wives.
There, Gassée walked with Sculley toward the living room, and once they were alone, he stood in front of him and tapped him on the chest with a finger.
—If you get on that plane tomorrow. —Gassée said—. Steve is going to talk with the board and persuade them to get you out of the company.
Sculley asked him to explain. And once he understood Steve’s plan, he made a few phone calls and canceled his trip to China.
His new plan was to join the board members and executives at the regular meeting they held every Friday at 9:00 a.m.
The next morning, Steve woke up with his heart beating fast against his ribs.
He looked at the clock beside the bed: 8:00 a.m.
He closed his eyes and imagined an airplane flying high over the ocean, thousands of meters in the air. In the window seat sat John Sculley, trapped on a fourteen-hour flight. No phone, no messages, and no way to reach anyone. Bound for Beijing.
At 9:15 in the morning, Steve walked into the Apple building.
He made his way down the hallway toward the boardroom. His shoes made a sharp click against the floor with every step: tap, tap, tap. He stopped in front of the wooden door at the end of the hall. He glanced at his wristwatch: 9:22.
He placed his hand on the metal doorknob, twisted his wrist, and shoved the door open.
But when he opened the door and looked inside, John Sculley was sitting at the head of the table, looking like someone who hadn’t slept all night, his eyes fixed on the door.
—Shit, Steve thought.
At board meetings, Steve always sat next to Sculley, but today that seat was occupied by Apple’s general counsel. So he walked toward the other end of the table and sat down.
A few seconds after Steve took his seat, Sculley stood up and rested his palms on the table.
—Someone told me, you want me out of the company, —Sculley said—. And I want to know if that’s true.
Steve hadn’t anticipated this, but he had never been shy about voicing his opinion. He clenched his jaw, narrowed his eyes, and locked his gaze on Sculley.
—John, you’re the wrong person to run this company, —Steve said—. At Pepsi, all you sold was carbonated water. You don’t know how to use a computer, let alone design one. I brought you to Apple to help me grow, but you haven’t done it. You’re incompetent, and it’s best that you leave.
John blinked twice. The muscles in his hand twitched, and when he opened his mouth, the stutter he had had since childhood was back:
—If... if... if I were to leave, who would run the company?
—I would run the company, —Steve said without hesitation—.
—I want to hear the board’ opinion, —John said—. If they agree with you, I’ll leave today.
He looked at the directors and continued:
—Is it Steve or me?
Steve looked at each of them.
No one moved. No one spoke.
One director stared blankly into his cold cup of coffee. Another examined his fingernails. None of them looked up.
The silence dragged on longer and longer until it became unbearable, so Sculley pressed Delbert Yocam, the Chief Operating Officer, to speak:
—Delbert, who do you back?
Delbert swallowed hard. His throat made a dry click. He glanced at Steve for a split second and quickly lowered his gaze back to the table.
—I love you, Steve, I really do, but I support John, —he said quietly.
John turned to the next man: Regis McKenna.
—Steve, —McKenna said—. I’ve told you before. You’re not ready to run this company. I back Sculley.
A pounding headache hit Steve. Meanwhile, John turned his gaze to the next seat: Bill Campbell, the head of sales.
I’m sorry, Steve. I support John. —Campbell said.
One by one, the men voted.
Four votes for John. Two men in silence. Zero votes for Steve.
Steve stared down at the wood in the center of the table. He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.
Several seconds passed before Steve could speak.
—Well, —Steve said—. I think I finally see the truth.
He stood up abruptly, looked at no one, and stormed out of the room, leaving his chair still rolling back toward the wall.
Steve walked briskly down the hallway, went into his office, shut the door, and locked it.
Click.
The moment he heard the lock turn, tears welled in his eyes.
He walked over to his desk, picked up the receiver with a trembling hand, and dialed Larry Brilliant’s number.
He pressed the phone to his ear, tears streaming down his face.
When he heard his friend’s voice on the other end of the line, Steve said: