Steve Jobs, stofnandi og fyrrum forstjóri Apple, var nokkuð merkilegur karakter. Þeir sem hafa lesið ævisögu hans (eða valda kafla úr henni) eru eflaust á þeirri skoðun að Steve Jobs hafi ekki beinlínis verið neitt gæðablóð. Það er í sjálfu sér engin lygi.
Enginn mun neita því að Steve Jobs var um margt furðurlegur og sérvitur, en hann gat einnig verið nokkur ljúfur í daglegu lífi. Á vefnum Quora, þar sem notendur spyrja og svara ýmislegum spurningum, spurði einn notandi hvort einhverjir ættu sögur af því þegar þeir hittu Steve Jobs í daglegu lífi sínu. Hér fyrir neðan birtum við helstu sögurnar.
Það er okkar mat að gildi þessara sagna muni glatast að einhverju leyti ef þær eru þýddar yfir á móðurmál okkar, þannig að sögurnar eru birtar á ensku:
Tim Smith: Bíllinn bilar við innkeyrslu Steve Jobs
I dated for years a young woman whose father was Steve Jobs’ neighbor in Palo Alto. I thus found myself in the neighborhood often, at dinners, or parties, etc. We would see the Jobs come and go – they have a “normal” house, no gates, no guards, no high fences, not even a big lot. Often, leaving a party at my girlfriend’s house late at night I would drive past their house and you would actually see Steve sometimes, working on a Mac.
One afternoon I attended a party, driving an old Sunbeam Alpine sports car I had the misfortune to own at the time. After the party, I started the Alpine, pulled away from the curb, and – as classic British sports cars will oft do – the electrical system blinked out and I coasted gracefully to a stop, directly in front of the Jobs’ driveway.
Their cars weren’t there, which was a relief to me, because I was sure they would consider me some weird stalker. So I got out, popped the hood and tried to quick-fix the electrical to at least move further away – and call AAA.
Within about 15 minutes, of course, I heard two cars pull in behind me, and into the Jobs’ driveway – the Jobs were home. I huddled under the hood of the Alpine and hoped they wouldn’t notice – although I was the only other car on the street. They went inside, with kids, thankfully, without saying anything. So I closed the hood and prepared to walk back next door to my girlfriend’s parents house to call AAA.
As I was putting my jacket on, I heard a call from across the street behind me – the Jobs’ driveway – “British or Italian?”. It was Jobs’ lovely wife Laurene. “British,” I said, “and acting like it.” “You want a beer?,” she said. I tried to decline (shocked I guess at first), but she insisted, said “you’re not going anywhere”, and walked back in the house – only to return with two bottles of beer.
I was determined not to let on that I knew exactly who I was talking to – I was so afraid of being cast a stalker – but the scene was already getting weird for me, standing by my broken car having a beer with Steve Job’s wife. So it got weirder.
“You know, we have a friend who knows all about these Sunbeams. We should call him.”
I begged her not to, that I’d call AAA and be on my way. She left her beer and went back in the house for a minute, only to return saying, “they’re on their way out, but said they would drop by to take a look.”
By this point I am fully resigned to whatever story is going to play out. It was starting to dawn on me that these were not just Silicon Valley elite – they were real people, just helping a poor guy out. It was just unexpected, given what you might think about people like this: it would have been so easy for them to just ignore me. Or call the police.
Within about 15 minutes a very long, very black car I won’t identify pulled up and – Felini could not have directed this – a handsome gentleman in (I think) a tuxedo, and a beautifully formally dressed wife emerged, to examine my car. This was Laurene’s friend, the Sunbeam mechanic.
I protested, all was ignored. The tuxedoed man (who to this day I have no idea who he was – I’ll call him James Bond) took off his jacket, opened the hood of my car, and commenced to fishing around inside, while we all visited amicably.
So Steve comes out.
At which point – being an admirer of Jobs for many years – I guess I knew was inevitable, and I both dreaded and anticipated it. He ambled over. I think he had a beer too. And asked what was going on. He was joined by one of the kids.
The Jobs’ made small talk and joked with their friends – dressed to the nines, repairing my car – while I politely thanked them over and over and tried not to throw up at the insanity of the scene. And then of course it got even weirder, or funnier, depending on whether you were me or not.
James Bond told someone to try to crank the car. I was talking with Laurene, so Jobs actually sits down in the Alpine and tries to crank it – with his kid sitting behind him. To no avail.
So I have to stop here – it’s a Kodak moment – something you want to remember. It’s a beautiful Fall evening in Palo Alto. Your car’s broken. A formally dressed close friend of Steve Jobs is under the hood working on your engine. You are talking with Steve’s absolutely lovely and down to earth wife. Steve is in the car, with his kid, trying to crank it.
That’s the moment. You don’t often get close to people like the Jobs, much less in a ridiculous situation like this, where you realize that they are just really good people. They’re normal, funny, charitable, real people. Not the people the press talks about. Steve is not the maniacal business and design despot the media loves to portray – well he is, but not always. These were real, nice, people.
But still Steve Jobs. The car didn’t start. James Bond got his tuxedo back together, apologized to me (!) for not being able to fix it. Said it was the electrical (of course). They said their goodbyes and departed in their giant silent black car. Steve said something like “piece of shit” as he got out, and walked back into the house. Classic Steve – he was right.
Laurene said “come inside and use the phone”. Still rolling with it at this point, I followed her into the house, stepping over the dirty laundry you find in everyone’s real house, and into the kitchen where she pointed me to a phone with god knows how many lines on it. I called AAA, thanked Laurene profusely (for the 50th time) and left quietly. I never acknowledged I had any idea who they were.
A week later, I dropped a six pack of beer off at the Jobs’ door, with a note saying thanks. Like anyone would have done I guess.
I’m an Apple follower. I own a fair amount of Apple stock. You can’t avoid the public persona and reputation of Steve Jobs – the media stories. But, as with the other vignettes some have posted, we don’t hear about or appreciate the personal side of Jobs and his family. They deserve their privacy, and it must be hard to maintain I’m sure, but the flip side of that is that most never see how frankly normal they are. I purchased the bio that came out last Fall but have not started it. I hope that, on balance, it is as much about what a decent, probably brilliant, real, caring individual Steve Jobs is: a husband, father, neighbor – and CEO. Tortured probably, in his brilliance. I saw him in his most personal element – family and friends – around a broken down car in Palo Alto one night, just by chance. I was lucky – and I was delighted.
It’s one of my fondest memories.
Michael Chang, fyrrum starfsnemi hjá Apple mætti honum í lyftunni
I met Steve Jobs randomly while working as an intern at Apple in the summer of 2010. I had stepped into an elevator on the main Apple campus when, just as the door was closing, Steve Jobs strolled in. He saw that I had an intern badge on, and asked me what I was working on over the summer.
When he asked me this question, I wasn’t sure what to say. Should I tell him what I was working on, and risk getting in trouble for disclosing what I was working on (as we had been instructed not to do during orientation), or should I just tell him that I wasn’t allowed to tell him?
I went with the latter, telling him, „Sorry, but I’m not supposed to tell you.“ Steve flashed a smile, chuckled a little, and stepped out of the elevator.
Ryan McGeehan, öryggisstjóri hjá Facebook, hitti Steve Jobs í matvörubúð
I met Steve at Whole Foods and got 5 minutes of chat out of him.
I was checking out and was tapped on the shoulder. I was asked where I got the lemonade I was checking out with. I pointed to the back of the store and told him it where I found it. As he turned around I said something bro’ish like „this stuff rules and you should go get some“ and he laughed a bit.
About now I made eye contact with him. In hindsight he knew what was about to happen, because he started nodding as soon as I started saying…
„You kind of look like Steve Jo…“
Right about here he is grinning, almost implying that I should spit it out.„I guess you’re Steve Jobs. I’m Ryan, I work at Facebook.“
Then I shook his hand and let a chat flow, ready to leave him alone if it seemed I was getting on his nerves.Not so interesting, but this is a pretty rough description of what happened next. He asked what I do for Facebook. I told him I deal with „Internet Bad Guys“ and he mentioned that Apple’s got some good folks that „deal with that too“.
Then he changed subject and asked me about our top application at the time (iLike) and other stuff about Facebook’s Platform (which was in heavy growth).
My role has never really dealt with the sexy side of our products so I couldn’t draw him into any kind of substantial product discussion but I got a good 5 minutes out of him and he didn’t seem annoyed or anything. We talked about where we both lived, working in Palo Alto, and other trivial commonalities.
Ran out of trivial chats, and I said it was nice to meet him. He remembered my name and said bye, and I remember being impressed with him minutes later that he remembered my name considering how many people he must have to deal with.
Then I told EVERYONE. I am really glad I was starstruck much later, because I would have regretted not chatting with him.
Lemonade…
Fyrrum starfsmaður Apple segir frá samskiptum Jobs við nokkra ferðamenn
I worked at Apple from April of 1999 through July of 2011. I’ve never written publicly about that experience, but I wanted to share a little moment that will always be with me, even though it’s not of any great significance.
After leaving my job at Apple, I dropped in for lunch one day. I was exiting the main building, Infinite Loop One, and just ahead of me was Steve Jobs, walking with the usual spring in his step that never seemed to go away even as he started looking more frail. Bumping into Steve was a surprisingly common occurrence for such a large company as Apple.
Steve was heading towards a car parked next to the curb with its door open, waiting for him. The car was idling. A family was standing near the Apple sign outside the building, a common site for people to take photos on their pilgrimages to Apple.
The father turned to Steve as he passed close by and asked, „Excuse me, sir, would you mind taking our photo?“
Steve paused for a moment as an iPhone was extended to him, realizing that they didn’t seem to know who he was. With a hint of enthusiasm, he said „Sure!“ as he took the iPhone into his hands.
Steve took a great deal of care composing the photo, backing up a few steps several times, tapping the iPhone screen to lock focus, then said „Smile!“ as he snapped the photo, grinning a little bit himself to encourage the family to follow suit.
He handed back the iPhone and they said „Thank you, sir“ as Steve stepped into his car, closed the door, and was driven away. The family looked at the photo that Steve had taken and all agreed that it looked great. Then the iPhone was pocketed and they were on their way.
Heimild: Quora
