The Second Coming of Steve Jobs - Alan Deutschman [69]
When she arrived at Pixar’s headquarters, Bonnie began setting up her office.
“I need a typewriter,” she said.
Her new colleagues were surprised. They all had computers. Why a typewriter?
“I have all these forms to fill out,” she said. Many actors worked on a shoot for only a day or two, and the producer needed to type out the forms to process their checks.
Don’t worry, the Pixar people told her. We’re all on salary here. We’re Ph.D.s.
As Bonnie settled in, Disney sent an accountant to work full-time on the film.
“What can we get you?” Ralph asked.
“First, I need a typewriter,” he said.
The Pixar people were exasperated. They were running a high-tech operation. It was bad enough that they had to buy a typewriter for Bonnie. Use her typewriter!
“What else can we get you?”
“I need a safe.”
A safe! Why?
“For the ten grand in cash.” The reason was very simple: Whenever there was a problem on a film set, the producer would open up the safe, pull out a pile of $100 bills, and hand out the bribes to the Teamsters. That was the quickest way to solve a problem.
The Pixar guys had an Oscar, but only now were they getting an education in the real workings of Hollywood. The culture clash was extraordinary. Pixar epitomized the mellow feel-good ethos of northern California, while Bonnie was frighteningly L.A., a transplant from the realm of power and fear. The Pixar culture was unfailingly polite, with great respect for the individual. Bonnie was the kind of character who’d shout, “Get out of here, I don’t like your face!”
Bonnie fired her administrative assistant without cause, just because she didn’t like the person. “I was shocked,” recalls Pam Kerwin. “I thought: Oh my God, we’re going to be in court in two seconds.” It took a while for the Pixar executives to realize that Bonnie hadn’t done anything wrong by the standards of Hollywood, where it’s OK to fire people arbitrarily because you have to act quickly and there’s no time for drawn-out diplomacy. Besides, everyone belongs to the union and there’s always another film ready to shoot.
The bad feelings about Bonnie only worsened when she installed an intercom system to announce meetings that would begin in ten minutes. A loudspeaker! The Pixar people cherished the peacefulness of their environment, where they could work without such jarring disturbances. Now their quiet sanctuary was compromised. And Ph.D.s didn’t come running down the hallways when someone barked on a loudspeaker! After a while, though, they got used to the system and realized that it was a very good idea. Bonnie knew how to get things done, and they came to respect her and even to like her. She brought a more pragmatic mindset to the laissez-faire bunch of intellectuals. Her experience managing big projects proved invaluable as Pixar hired nearly one hundred people to work on the film.
After a while, the Pixar geniuses learned to take a certain amusement in Bonnie’s Hollywood psychology. On one rainy day Bonnie was pacing nervously in the lobby of the Pixar building as she waited for a bunch of Disney vice presidents to arrive. Pam Kerwin looked out the front window and saw a limousine steering through the downpour.
“Hey, Bonnie,” she said. “Your VPs are here. Maybe I should run out with an umbrella?”
Pam was kidding. At Pixar, everyone treated each other as peers. No one bowed down to authority or rank. No one demanded deference.
She watched, astonished, as Bonnie ran out into the rain and held an open umbrella beside the door of the limo.
• • •
MEANWHILE, AT NEXT, the situation improved somewhat, but not nearly enough. In 1991, Steve lured a hotshot executive from Microsoft, Mike Slade, to become Next’s director of marketing. Mike was a cocky, fast-talking, profane, irreverent, charismatic figure who was unafraid to stand up to Steve. He galvanized the company, instilling a new sense of