When Eisenstat asked what he meant, Sculley responded, "I think I'm going to resign."
"You can't," Eisenstat protested. "Apple will fall apart."
"I'm going to resign," Sculley declared. "I don't think I'm right for the company."
"I think you're copping out," Eisenstat replied. "You've got to stand up to him." Then he drove Sculley home.
Sculley's wife was surprised to see him back in the middle of the day.
"I've failed," he said to her forlornly.
She was a volatile woman who had never liked Jobs or appreciated her husband's infatuation with him.
So when she heard what had happened, she jumped into her car and sped over to Jobs's office.
Informed that he had gone to the Good Earth restaurant,
she marched over there and confronted him in the parking lot as he was coming out with loyalists on his Macintosh team.
"Steve, can I talk to you?" she said. His jaw dropped.
"Do you have any idea what a privilege it has been even to know someone as fine as John Sculley?" she demanded. He averted his gaze.
"Can't you look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you?" she asked.
But when Jobs did so— giving her his practiced, unblinking stare—she recoiled.
"Never mind, don't look at me," she said. "When I look into most people's eyes, I see a soul.
When I look into your eyes, I see a bottomless pit, an empty hole, a dead zone." Then she walked away.