Steve and I walked through Apple's product planning department, talking as we went.
It was a space where everything from the very first Macintosh to the newly released iPhone was on display. Standing in the middle, I spread my arms wide.
"Don't you think something's missing?"
"What exactly is missing?" Steve asked.
"The Mac and the iPhone feel too far apart. There's nothing in between."
"Are you talking about a laptop? We're already developing a notebook-style Mac. We've even decided on the name—MacBook."
Apple was, after all, a computer company, and naturally, it was also developing laptops.
But true to Apple's style, most of its models were high-spec machines, which meant they were often bulky and not very portable.
"Are you planning to refine the PowerBook or the iBook into your new notebook?" I asked.
"The MacBook will be a completely different product from the existing ones," Steve said. "We're developing two separate models—one designed for professionals, and another for general users."
Of course, I had heard of the MacBook.
In fact, I had even used one before, and I knew it would eventually develop an enormous cult following.
But that wasn't what I was aiming for.
I wanted to bring up a new product that hadn't even entered development yet.
"The MacBook will still take the form of a notebook, won't it? Even so, that still leaves a gap between the iPhone and the laptop."
"Stop circling around and just tell me what's on your mind," Steve urged.
"The iPhone already uses a touchscreen," I said. "So why not apply the same to a notebook? If we replace keyboards and mice with a touchscreen interface, we could make something extremely compact."
I was dropping a hint about the iPad.
If the iPhone had already been released years ahead of schedule, why not accelerate the launch of the iPad as well?
"What you're suggesting sounds like asking Apple to revisit one of its failures," Steve replied. "We've already built the kind of device you're describing. The Newton MessagePad—one of Apple's most notorious flops—was exactly that."
"The MessagePad failed because it was too far ahead of its time," I countered. "But now, there's so much more a tablet computer could do."
It wasn't an exaggeration to say that the MessagePad had dragged Apple to the brink of collapse.
So it was only natural for Steve to react with skepticism.
"If I propose to the board that we make something similar to the MessagePad, they'll raise hell. Are you sure about this?"
"The fact that you're worried about the board tells me you actually want to make it, Steve."
"We already secured the technology through the MessagePad," Steve admitted. "That means we could create a tablet-style notebook without pouring in huge development costs."
"I'm certain it will succeed," I said firmly. "Forget the board. Trust your instincts and push forward."
Steve fell into a moment of deep thought.
He fiddled with a MessagePad on display in the corner for quite some time before finally speaking.
"If we switch to a color display, enable music and video playback, and refine the handwriting features so it can be used in universities or workplaces… wouldn't that work?"
"If we combine the technology from the MessagePad and iPod, and use the iPhone's operating system, development costs would be minimal. With such low risk, is there really a reason to hesitate?"
The truth was, the iPad wasn't exactly some groundbreaking, revolutionary invention.
It was more like stitching together existing technologies. But even so, it had the potential to carve out an entirely new market and become a blockbuster product.
"You're right," Steve said, nodding. "This would be the perfect product to fill the gaps in Apple's lineup. I don't even know why I wasted so much time meditating. Just a few minutes of conversation with you, and ideas are pouring out."
"I'm just glad you see it that way."
"I feel like I'm only receiving from you," Steve said. "If there's anything I can do to help, just say the word."
Of course, I hadn't just thrown out the idea for free.
Once the iPad was released, it would inevitably include patents owned by Taewoo Electronics, which meant royalties would flow back to us.
But the royalties alone weren't the reason I was sharing such an idea.
"There is one thing I'd like to ask your help with," I said.
"Name it. You've given me the ideas for the second-generation iPhone and now the tablet. If there's something I can do in return, I'll gladly help."
"I want to collaborate with Apple to create a television."
"A television? Do you mean the Internet TV that Taewoo Electronics developed?"
"That's right. I want to combine Apple's design sensibilities with Taewoo's technology to create an entirely new kind of TV."
Up until now, I had allowed Apple to take the lead.
But now that Apple had grown enough, it was time for me to make use of it.
"Hm, Apple doesn't make televisions," Steve said.
"What's so special about a TV?" I replied. "People already watch videos on their PCs and even on their iPhones these days."
"Even if we collaborate to make one, what would be new about it?"
"Think of it as a TV that's fully compatible with every Apple product."
To be honest, what I really needed was Apple's image.
Though somewhat diluted, Taewoo Electronics still carried a reputation for being old-fashioned. To shed that image, it needed to be covered with Apple's sleek and emotional design language.
"We can certainly handle the design and software," Steve said, "but the actual technology for manufacturing TVs would have to come from Taewoo Electronics."
"Of course. That's exactly what I had in mind. We'll leave all the design work to Apple, while Taewoo focuses solely on developing the TV and the set-top box."
"And how do you propose we split the shares?"
"Seventy-thirty," I said. "Taewoo will also cover all development costs."
On the surface, it might have looked like a losing deal for us.
After all, we'd be giving Apple thirty percent of the shares just for providing design.
But in the bigger picture, it was no loss at all.
The purpose of the Apple–Taewoo TV wasn't to profit from hardware sales but from content distribution.
Apple's name value was, in a way, a form of marketing expense.
Breaking into a TV market dominated by Samsung and CL would require astronomical costs anyway, so the thirty percent we gave Apple was simply that expense.
"That's a deal we have no reason to refuse," Steve said. "In fact, it's so favorable to us that I almost feel guilty."
"Don't worry," I said with a smile. "I plan on squeezing plenty out of it."
It didn't matter if the terms favored Apple.
After all, I was Apple's largest shareholder.
I owned more than sixty percent of Apple's shares.
So even if Apple gained thirty percent of the Apple–Taewoo TV joint venture, in practice I was only giving away about ten percent.
"I'll establish a new TV production division and send them to Korea," Steve said. "The detailed negotiations can be handled by the teams. I'll oversee the bigger picture, but I need to focus most of my energy on the second-generation iPhone and the tablet product."
"That's more than enough," I assured him.
I then pulled out the contract I had prepared in advance.
Steve handed it over to Apple's legal team.
Since the contract held no disadvantages for Apple, the legal department approved it immediately. Before the sun had set, Steve and I had already signed the agreement.
After finishing my business in California, I returned to SAVE Investment.
Team Leader Han greeted me as though we were long-lost relatives reunited.
"Sir! What took you so long? I was waiting so long I thought my neck would snap!"
"Why are you making such a fuss? Did something happen?"
"The phones have been ringing nonstop. The companies that sold us their Apple shares are in an uproar."
"Just ignore them. It's not like we forced them to sell. They were desperate to unload those shares, and we just bought them."
"They're accusing us of knowing about the iPhone launch in advance and buying Apple shares because of it."
"That's ridiculous. When the iPhone was unveiled at CES, they didn't say a word. Complaining now is shameless. Just ignore it."
Maintaining ties with Wall Street was important.
But that didn't mean I could let myself be treated like a pushover forever.
The truth was, we had been too generous until now—that's why they were reacting this way.
"Are you sure that's okay?" Han asked cautiously.
"If they insist, just ask whether they're planning to sell us shares of any other IT companies. That'll make them back down."
The dot-com bubble still hadn't fully burst.
That was also why, even though the iPhone had been a massive success, Apple's stock had only risen fivefold.
In that climate, no investment firm would dare hand over shares of other IT companies.
"Now that you mention it, they never did bring up any other IT stocks," Han admitted.
"Of course not. IT firms are still bleeding out. By the way, has Jeffrey contacted us?"
"He called a few times to complain about his situation."
After all, Jeffrey's company—Amazon—was also an IT business.
Its stock had once reached nearly five dollars, but had since plunged to just fifty cents. He was surely under enormous stress.
"I'd like to see Jeffrey's face again," I said.
"If I call him now, he'll rush over immediately. He's been saying nonstop that he wants to see you."
"Then go ahead and call him. I want to see with my own eyes just how worn down he looks."
Team Leader Han hadn't been exaggerating.
Less than an hour after we called, Jeffrey came rushing into the office. His complexion was ashen.
"I thought you'd forgotten about me. Every time you come to the U.S., you make a stop at Apple's headquarters, but why haven't you ever visited Amazon? Especially when you hold such a large stake in the company!"
"Calm down. Have a glass of cold water first."
I handed him a glass, and only after gulping it down did Jeffrey manage to steady himself.
"I've heard that Amazon might finally turn a profit in the second half of this year. Is that true?"
"We expect to see about five million dollars in net profit," Jeffrey admitted. "It's not much, but at least we'll finally escape the red."
"A CEO running a company with over a billion dollars in revenue shouldn't be whining like this."
Amazon was growing at a staggering pace.
Its sales had been increasing by more than fifteen percent annually, and despite taking a direct hit from the dot-com bubble, revenue had continued to rise.
"Most of our revenue is being poured into building logistics centers. And don't get me started on labor costs—they're enormous."
"Labor costs are always a problem," I agreed. "The Taewoo Group has its own headaches with them."
Jeffrey had a reputation as a ruthless manager.
He was the kind of man who considered it cheaper to call an ambulance for an overheated worker than to install air conditioning in a warehouse.
It was precisely because of this attitude that Amazon had managed to capture fifty percent of America's logistics market.
"At least Korea is a little better," Jeffrey continued. "Do you have any idea how expensive it is to hire people in the U.S.?"
"Of course I do."
We went on for quite some time, talking about labor costs as a shared concern.
Jeffrey vented nonstop, pouring out every frustration he had over employment expenses.
"If I could save on labor costs, I'd be willing to make a deal with the devil himself," he said bitterly.
"No need to shake hands with the devil," I said with a faint smile. "Why not shake hands with the Taewoo Group instead?"
I hadn't called Jeffrey here just to console him.
Amazon had grown enough—it was time to start reaping the benefits.
TL/n -
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