~ Mr... Jobs, is it?
The candidate nodded his long-haired head and adjusted his round glasses.
- I see you’re... looking for a job...
The interviewer openly giggled at his own dad joke. Steve rolled his eyes.
- Tell me... why should we hire you?
Steve pulled up the sleeves to his black turtleneck top, vividly portraying the world of tomorrow and how technology should be simple, the philosophy behind it strong and the design life-changing.
Half-yawning, the interviewer cut him short:
- Yeah, that’s pretty good, Mr. Jobs. But I don’t think faxes can get any smaller than they already are.
The candidate got triggered:
- I’m not talking about faxes. Faxes are obsolete! Desktop computers are the future!
The interviewer sighed and checked his papers for the hiring targets. Company’s sales were way behind and the VP wanted to double-down on Marketing hires. They needed 5 more specialists. Flashbacks reminded him of the abysmal candidates and previous interviews. This one was crazy, but would do. He wouldn’t last, but the hiring targets would be met and the VP would be off Recruitment’s back for the entire month.
- Welcome to Profaxional, Mr. Jobs. When can you start?
- Sell me this pen! shouted the Marketing Manager.
- This pen is flawed and you know it! I can make you a better one if you just give me one good engineer!
- Now, Steven — remember, you’re still on probation. You’re going to have to mind that tone!
Profaxional’s latest Marketing Specialist made a mental effort to calm down, reminding himself why he joined this no-future employer: he needed the money to tinker and bring to market the “IBM killer” machine and he needed an engineer to code the software. He was not leaving until he got both from Profaxional.
- Don’t you have, like, other clothes besides those jeans and turtleneck, Steve? At least get a belt or some real shoes. The whole outfit... it doesn’t even make sense... Did you just come back from a jog?
While seated on the cafeteria chair, Steve used his right hand to pull closer towards him the New Balance wearing foot resting on the top of his opposite left knee.
- It’s called consistency, Sarah. Takes your mind off menial tasks and you can stay focused on important stuff. You should try it.
- Why don’t you just admit you’re saving money from the wardrobe budget for that company you dream about. The one with the ridiculous name...
Sarah made a slight effort to remember it then gave up.
- It’s no dream. Apple will soon become reality. And it will... warp... your... world.
Sarah bursted into laughter.
- Stop it, Steve! You’re so dramatic... Apple? What’s wrong with faxes? Who would want a screen and a keyboard sitting on your desk? It just... doesn’t make any sense. Any of it.
Steve chewed on his meal — a carrot — then pointed it to his colleague.
- You don’t see it, Sarah, but I do. Just wait and see. Apple Computers, remember the name!
Sarah exited the cafeteria, shouting in a light tone:
- Everyone, watch out! Steve Jobs will create the machine of the future with the fruity name... in his garage!
The cafeteria door closed behind Sarah, but not before letting a wave of laughter coming from the office hit Steve’s eardrums. He unfolded his right leg and got up, taking a final bite from the carrot. Looking at his waist, he decided:
- I’m not going to wear any freaking belt!
- Come over my place, Woz... It’ll be fun!
- I don’t know, Steve — welding PCBs is not my idea of a fun week-end...
- Fine, you can bring the Monopoly board...
The other Steve‘s face lit up like a little kid’s:
- Can I?
- Absolutely!
- Hey... promise me this time we’ll actually play...
- Sure thing, Woz! You can even go first!
- Aww, Steve — you’re the best...
Woz proceeded to hug Steve. Inside the bear hug, Steve’s words wrestled to get out:
- About that PCB...
-...and at #1 this quarter, with 112 sales leads... Steven Jobs! Good jobs, Steven!
All Marketing employees on the floor reluctantly clapped and laughed at the easy joke as Steve went to the makeshift podium to pick up his award. He leaned towards the Marketing Director and whispered in his ear:
- Remember what you promised me, Tom. I want that audience with the VP!
Tom sighed, but nodded and agreed:
- ...you got it, Steven.
- When?
- Just... give me some time.
Steve approached the VP’s office. It was a nice corner office with an assistant desk right outside:
- Mr. Facsimile will see you now, Mr. Jobs, the young lady informed him.
Carrying his Macintosh computer prototype, Steve went in and greeted the Profaxional VP. He was leaning back on his chair, with his feet on the top of the solid desk, puffing a cigar. Three of his directors were with him, each seated next to his chair, all in their late 50s, tall and grey, wearing the same black suit.
- Tom tells me you have a product you want to show us. You have 5 minutes, boy!
Steve looked for a spot on the VP’s desk and placed the Mac prototype almost touching the executive’s pair of shiny shoes.
- Gentlemen, I give you... the future! The Macintosh Personal Computer!
During the 5 minutes, Steve captured and enthralled the audience’s imagination, with the directors switching their attention between the machine and the VP, who continued to silently puff his cigar. After Steve’s presentation, he pressed his cigar butt against the golden ashtray and brought his feet back to the wooden floor.
- That’s nice, kid, but I don’t see the point going against IBM. It’s not going to fly.
- I assure you, this product...
The VP cut him short and pointed to the exit. Steve looked around the room at the people’s faces. Then it was clear — they weren’t in on his vision. He grabbed his baby and walked out. The directors didn’t even have the decency to wait for the door to be closed:
- That guy...
- What a loser!
- Total loser!
Behind the door, Steve Jobs, carrying his first of many Macs, was walking out of Profaxional, leaving the past behind.
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