The Everything Store: Jeff Bezos and the Age of Amazon

by Brad Stone

Internet records show that during that time, they registered the Web domains Awake.com, Browse.com, and Bookmall.com. Bezos also briefly considered Aard.com, from a Dutch word, as a way to stake a claim at the top of most listings of websites, which at the time were arranged alphabetically. Bezos and his wife grew fond of another possibility: Relentless.com.

After the class, only a few students went to talk to Bezos, far fewer than the crush that greeted most speakers. One of those students was Jason Kilar (who would spend the next nine years scaling the executive ranks at Amazon before taking over as chief executive of the video site Hulu).

1997 Harvard Business School

Joy Covey believes that from the beginning, Bezos planned to expand beyond books, but he was looking for the right moment to do it. “He always had a large appetite,” she says. “It was just a question of staging the opportunities at the right time.” So that spring, Jassy researched music, Kilar looked into the home-video market, a former Harvard classmate named Victoria Pickett examined shrink-wrapped software, and the list went on. At a management offsite at the Westin Hotel, the MBAs presented their findings. Amazon executives chose music as the first expansion target, and DVDs as the second. To the discomfort of early employees wedded to the zeal of creating a literary hub on the Web, the mission was now more comprehensive. The motto on the top of the website changed from Earth’s Largest Bookstore to Books, Music and More, and, soon after, to Earth’s Biggest Selection—the everything store.

1998

In the distribution centers, chaos wasn’t an ethereal thing but tangible, reflected in frequent system outages that could shut down facilities for hours and in omnipresent piles of products that sat on the floor, ignored by workers. During the early years of frenzied growth, new product categories had been plopped onto Amazon’s logistics network with little preparation. Employees remember that when the home and kitchen category was introduced in the fall of 1999, kitchen knives would fly down the conveyor chutes, free of protective packaging. Amazon’s internal logistics software didn’t properly account for new categories, so the computers would ask workers whether a new toy entering the warehouse was a hardcover or a paperback book.

At a management offsite in the late 1990s, a team of well-intentioned junior executives stood up before the company’s top brass and gave a presentation on a problem indigenous to all large organizations: the difficulty of coordinating far-flung divisions. The junior executives recommended a variety of different techniques to foster cross-group dialogue and afterward seemed proud of their own ingenuity. Then Jeff Bezos, his face red and the blood vessel in his forehead pulsing, spoke up. “I understand what you’re saying, but you are completely wrong,” he said. “Communication is a sign of dysfunction. It means people aren’t working together in a close, organic way. We should be trying to figure out a way for teams to communicate less with each other, not more.”

There were some head-scratching aspects to Bezos’s two-pizza-team concept. Each group was required to propose its own “fitness function”—a linear equation that it could use to measure its own impact without ambiguity. For example, a two-pizza team in charge of sending advertising e-mails to customers might choose for its fitness function the rate at which these messages were opened multiplied by the average order size those e-mails generated. A group writing software code for the fulfillment centers might home in on decreasing the cost of shipping each type of product and reducing the time that elapsed between a customer’s making a purchase and the item leaving the FC in a truck. Bezos wanted to personally approve each equation and track the results over time. It would be his way of guiding a team’s evolution.

Wilke subscribed to the principles laid out in a seminal book about constraints in manufacturing, Eliyahu M. Goldratt’s The Goal, published in 1984. The book, cloaked in the guise of an entertaining novel, instructs manufacturers to focus on maximizing the efficiency of their biggest bottlenecks.

Selecting the fee for the service was a challenge; there were no clear financial models because no one knew how many customers would join or how joining would affect their purchasing habits. The group considered several prices, including $49 and $99. Bezos decided on $79 per year, saying it needed to be large enough to matter to consumers but small enough that they would be willing to try it out. “It was never about the seventy-nine dollars. It was really about changing people’s mentality so they wouldn’t shop anywhere else,” says Ravindran, who later became chief digital officer for the Washington Post.

Signing up for Amazon Prime, Jason Kilar said at the time, “was like going from a dial-up to a broadband Internet connection.” The

2004

Perhaps the best story stems from the busy holiday season of 2006. A temporary employee in the Coffeyville, Kansas, fulfillment center showed up at the start of his shift and left at the end of it, but strangely, he was not logging any actual work in the hours in between. Amazon’s time clocks were not yet linked to the system that tracked productivity, so the discrepancy went unnoticed for at least a week. Finally someone uncovered the scheme. The worker had surreptitiously tunneled out a cavern inside an eight-foot-tall pile of empty wooden pallets in a far corner of the fulfillment center. Inside, completely blocked from view, he had created a cozy den and furnished it with items purloined from Amazon’s plentiful shelves. There was food, a comfortable bed, pictures ripped from books adorning the walls—and several pornographic calendars. Brian Calvin, the general manager of the Coffeyville FC, busted the worker in his hovel and marched him out the door. The man left without argument and walked to a nearby bus stop; sheepish, one might imagine, but perhaps also just a little bit triumphant.

The Remains of the Day, by Kazuo Ishiguro (1989). Jeff Bezos’s favorite novel, about a butler who wistfully recalls his career in service during wartime Great Britain. Bezos has said he learns more from novels than nonfiction.

Sam Walton: Made in America, by Sam Walton with John Huey (1992). In his autobiography, Walmart’s founder expounds on the principles of discount retailing and discusses his core values of frugality and a bias for action—a willingness to try a lot of things and make many mistakes. Bezos included both in Amazon’s corporate values.

The Innovator’s Dilemma: The Revolutionary Book That Will Change the Way You Do Business, by Clayton M. Christensen (1997). An enormously influential business book whose principles Amazon acted on and that facilitated the creation of the Kindle and AWS. Some companies are reluctant to embrace disruptive technology because it might alienate customers and undermine their core businesses, but Christensen argues that ignoring potential disruption is even costlier.