Chapter Nineteen: Not Just a Personal Computer

The conversation with Apple’s top executives yesterday was extremely pleasant. Everyone has now reached a consensus. Though the legendary Steve was reluctant to admit it, William White’s perspective was irrefutable. The so-called personal PC was, frankly, a bit unreliable. At least, the main target customers for Apple’s second-generation machine should be small and medium-sized businesses. A personal computer ought to balance work and entertainment, with entertainment accounting for at least eighty percent of its use.

Clearly, the Apple II can’t accomplish this; even if it offered simple puzzle games, the entertainment factor is still sorely lacking.

Reaching this unified understanding is crucial—it allows Apple to focus its limited resources where they will have the most impact.

Their current goal is simple: rapidly expand their market. If they can achieve a monthly shipment of thirty thousand units, their valuation will easily double.

Investment banks don’t care about potential; they need real, tangible numbers. With the addition of software, not only do sales increase, but so does the profit margin.

After all, a thirty percent commission is pure profit. What’s most delightful is that this hardly adds to their costs.

All it takes is a few extra words when selling the computer. With this offering, pitching the product to other companies becomes much easier.

Before this, how did you even begin to sell the product?

“Do you need a computer?”

“No, what would I use it for? No thanks.”

But now things are different.

“Boss, do you want to improve work efficiency? With this, you can calculate your personal taxes in a minute. You’ll save on accounting staff. You won’t need as many typists. Our computers are far more efficient.”

Following William White’s approach to selling computers has proven very effective. Apple’s salespeople have experienced this firsthand. Some clients may not commit immediately, but it’s clear their interest is piqued. Before long, their sales will surely soar again.

Finally persuading the stubborn Steve, William White was delighted. Their main concern now is sales. If they can maintain this momentum, coupled with skyrocketing profit margins, their valuation doubling is no longer just a dream.

Should this happen, every one of the founders would become a billionaire. Steve isn’t Bill Gates; he didn’t come from wealth—he was adopted. Becoming a billionaire would mean achieving a life goal.

Such an inspiring underdog story would inevitably become the focus of the media. Right now, Steve hasn’t yet become the legendary figure he will be. He still craves social recognition.

He has a good impression of William White, who is nothing like the other heirs—there’s none of that aloofness or sense of superiority.

What Steve doesn’t realize is that William White does this intentionally. When dealing with someone like Steve, being direct—even blunt or rude—is more effective. If you act overly polite and formal, Steve is actually less likely to accept you.

Ultimately, it’s Steve’s underdog mentality at play. He’s eager to prove himself and earn social standing.

In a capitalist society, wealth is, of course, an important measure. Like it or not, becoming a billionaire is a significant milestone.

Even though the dollar has depreciated sharply in recent years, billionaires are still extremely rare.

A hundred million dollars in this era is equivalent to at least a billion in 2019. Despite the dollar losing value, its purchasing power remains impressive.

Right now, you can buy a 747 for just a few tens of millions. In later years, no one buys those anymore. Even a 737 as a private jet is already the height of luxury.

What’s that? The desert tycoons?

They don’t count—their pet falcons alone are worth millions. No need to mention the rest.

But what’s the point of earning so much if you can’t drink or party? For them, life is all about marrying many wives and having countless children.

These people are not unlike the aristocrats of old. For now, they’re living large, but sooner or later, they’ll fall from grace.

After all, you can’t keep pumping oil forever—maybe for a century at most—after which their descendants might end up begging for a living.

Their lifeblood is that black gold. Once it dries up, national bankruptcy will be immediate.

“Boss, did you really develop that software?”

“No kidding, if not me, then who do you think?”

“Boss, I really admire you. When did you get so good at programming?”

“Idiot, I don’t have to do it myself. My people handle it; I just provide the ideas.”

“So, Boss, are you planning to quit school? Your admirers will be heartbroken.”

“I’ll take a break for now—there’s too much going on at home. You should work hard and graduate early; I need trustworthy people.”

“I’m not as good as you. At best, I can graduate a year early.”

“Haha, with this top student gone, you’ll be the best in class.”

“That’s no fun—I’d rather compete with you. Winning only matters if you’re here.”

“Let’s not talk about that. By the way, I’ll be heading to Los Angeles soon. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Are you taking official leave?”

“No, taking time off is just part of it. I’m planning to shoot a movie—come help me.”

“Will there be any beautiful women?”

“Doesn’t seem like it. Even if there are, they won’t be stunning.”

“All right, all right, you’re the boss—who else would I help?”

“Haha, good friend. We’ll talk more when we meet.”

“Sure, see you.”

As time went on, the mainstream media finally took notice of this unusual company.

It wasn’t because the company was particularly impressive; software was still a niche business at the time. People preferred tangible goods. Software felt too abstract—nobody really knew what it was for, and it certainly wasn’t edible.

What truly caught the media’s attention was the company’s owner. Now, everyone knew it wasn’t just someone with the same name—it was actually the writer who started the company.

Forrest Gump had become a sensation. The media, naturally, wanted to interview the author. Unfortunately, he proved highly uncooperative.

To boost book sales, no bestselling author would risk offending the media. Yet, this guy was a true oddball.

He refused interviews, publicity stunts, book signings—everything. The media could only find his photo at the university he attended. Such uncooperativeness was almost unheard of for a bestselling author.

According to reporters interviewing at his school, he didn’t have social anxiety. On the contrary, he was very outgoing.

His past missteps had already made the rounds—any further digging would be pointless. After all, he was still a young man, and if the media pushed too far, readers would begin to resent it.

At eighteen or nineteen, a little youthful folly is perfectly normal. Most people just smile knowingly—after all, everyone was young once; there’s nothing much to criticize.

Go to his ranch for an interview?

Don’t even joke—without an invitation, that’s asking for trouble. Texans are famous for their toughness.

The New York media were a bit bitter. How could such an outstanding talent not be a New Yorker? That would have been fine, but he had to be from Texas, their least favorite state.

In the eyes of New Yorkers, Texas and California are on par—both are filled with the most insufferable people. Crude and uncultured, that’s their reputation. They simply can’t understand how someone from such a place could write a book like this.