Jobs confided in Sculley that he believed he would die young,
and therefore he needed to accomplish things quickly so that he would make his mark on Silicon Valley history.
"We all have a short period of time on this earth,"
he told the Sculleys as they sat around the table that morning.
"We probably only have the opportunity to do a few things really great and do them well.
None of us has any idea how long we're going to be here, nor do I,
but my feeling is I've got to accomplish a lot of these things while I'm young."
Jobs and Sculley would talk dozens of times a day in the early months of their relationship.
"Steve and I became soul mates, near constant companions," Sculley said.
"We tended to speak in half sentences and phrases."
Jobs flattered Sculley.
When he dropped by to hash something out, he would say something like "You're the only one who will understand."
They would tell each other repeatedly, indeed so often that it should have been worrying,
how happy they were to be with each other and working in tandem.
And at every opportunity Sculley would find similarities with Jobs and point them out:
We could complete each other's sentences because we were on the same wavelength.
Steve would rouse me from sleep at 2 a.m. with a phone call to chat about an idea that suddenly crossed his mind.
"Hi! It's me," he'd harmlessly say to the dazed listener, totally unaware of the time.
I curiously had done the same in my Pepsi days.
Steve would rip apart a presentation he had to give the next morning, throwing out slides and text.
So had I as I struggled to turn public speaking into an important management tool during my early days at Pepsi.
As a young executive, I was always impatient to get things done and often felt I could do them better myself.
So did Steve. Sometimes I felt as if I was watching Steve playing me in a movie.
The similarities were uncanny, and they were behind the amazing symbiosis we developed.