The media recognized Bill for his tough dealmaking skills, the way that he had gotten the better of IBM in the deal of the century, but Steve was just as fierce and unyielding a negotiator. Bill envied Steve’s movie-star charisma, his ability to captivate an audience of a thousand people, and Steve watched along with the rest of the world as Bill became the richest person on earth. But each man saw himself as the complete mogul rather than his typecast character in the press. But they did represent opposite approaches to business and technology. Bill was the ultimate pragmatist. He put out bad software, buggy and flawed, but he got it out to the market, and then he fixed some of the problems in the next version, and then the next and the next. He persisted and he struggled and eventually he wound up with a good piece of software. He was poor Sisyphus pushing the rock up the hill, but he kept pushing. It was a messy process, it was infuriatingly incremental, it was full of angst, but it worked. He had a bias for action. He took pride in the fact that his company shipped products. Steve, in contrast, was the ultimate perfectionist. When he came out with a new computer, it had to be revolutionary, astonishing. In his own words, it had to be “insanely great.” He wanted a huge leap forward, not an incremental push. He wanted something that people would love, not tolerate grudgingly because they had no other viable alternatives. He conceived of his engineers as artists and even had them sign their names on the inside of the Macintosh. He had exhorted them with the mantra “Great artists ship.” Picasso and Matisse didn’t hold on to their canvases for years; they finished them and sold them off.