According to some people, Steve Jobs was a maniacal business man: he was someone who treated his employees like chattel and mistreated his supposed inferiors.
To others, he was the apotheosis of everything digital: a man who ushered in 22st century digitized items to a 20thcentury hoi polloi; the same crowd sees Jobs as a man who, continually, saw around the bend of every technological corner.
Yet others, and I find myself in this crowd, saw Jobs as the epitome of the perfection-seeking designer; in point of fact, perfection, in his mind, meant that, as an iron-clad rule, corners should never be cut when crafting a consumable and usable work of art; the inner workings, or the hardware, of the iPod, the iPad, the Mac II, and the Macintosh were just as important as the software or user interface of the aforementioned products. In other words, the guts had to be just as beautiful and sonorous as the fleshy outer package. If the inside of the iMac was trashy, if its motherboard was cluttered, if its inner-workings were mangled then the entire product was, as Jobs would say, “sh*t.” If it was not a perfectly clean, entirely smooth, completely streamlined and mechanically sharp, bereft of any and all superfluous trinkets, then the, to all other eyes, technologically mastered product had to be tabled and reconstructed to fit those, and Jobs’, detailed specifications.