The Everything Store: Jeff Bezos and the Age of Amazon

by Brad Stone

When you are eighty years old, and in a quiet moment of reflection narrating for only yourself the most personal version of your life story, the telling that will be most compact and meaningful will be the series of choices you have made. In the end, we are our choices. —Jeff Bezos,

Alexa, who’s the wealthiest person on the planet? In the fall of 2017, Amazon’s voice-activated digital assistant delivered a new answer to that question: Jeff Bezos, Amazon’s founder and CEO and one of the world’s most recognizable business figures.

Starting in 2011, Amazon set about quietly acquiring speech-recognition start-ups and hiring AI engineers and natural-language scientists. Those plans were put in place to help realize Bezos’s goal of building a computer that people could actually talk to, just as the crew converses with the starship Enterprise on his favorite TV show, Star Trek. Their work, over many years, resulted in the introduction of the Echo home speaker in 2014 and defined a new era of voice-activated computing. It was a perfect manifestation of Bezos’s pledge to think not about this quarter or next year but about efforts that would pay off over the long term.

Relentless and ruthless. Those words show up repeatedly in the following pages. They are extreme but familiar values at most successful companies. Getting the lethal combination precisely right has been Bezos’s prodigious talent and perhaps Amazon’s greatest asset.

“There are almost no better examples. Perhaps Apple, but people forget that most people believed Amazon was doomed because it would not scale at a cost structure that would work. It kept piling up losses. It lost hundreds of millions of dollars. But Jeff was very garrulous, very smart. He’s a classic technical founder of a business, who understands every detail and cares about it more than anyone.”

Near the elevators, there’s a black plaque with white lettering that informs visitors they have entered the realm of the philosopher-CEO. It reads: There is so much stuff that has yet to be invented. There’s so much new that’s going to happen. People don’t have any idea yet how impactful the Internet is going to be and that this is still Day 1 in such a big way. Jeff Bezos

PowerPoint decks or slide presentations are never used in meetings. Instead, employees are required to write six-page narratives laying out their points in prose, because Bezos believes doing so fosters critical thinking. For each new product, they craft their documents in the style of a press release. The goal is to frame a proposed initiative in the way a customer might hear about it for the first time. Each meeting begins with everyone silently reading the document, and discussion commences afterward—just like the productive-thinking exercise in the principal’s office at River Oaks Elementary.

He’d even cropped his awkwardly balding pate right down to the dome, which gave him a sleek look suggestive of one of his science-fiction heroes, Captain Picard of Star Trek: The Next Generation.

I’ve spoken to Bezos probably a dozen times over the past decade, and our talks are always spirited, fun, and frequently interrupted by his machine-gun bursts of laughter. He is engaged and full of twitchy, passionate energy (if you catch him in the hallway, he will not hesitate to inform you that he never takes the office elevator, always the stairs). He devotes his full attention to the conversation, and, unlike many other CEOs, he never gives you the sense that he is hurried or distracted—but he is highly circumspect about deviating from well-established, very abstract talking points.

“If you want to get to the truth about what makes us different, it’s this,” Bezos says, veering into a familiar Jeffism: “We are genuinely customer-centric, we are genuinely long-term oriented and we genuinely like to invent. Most companies are not those things. They are focused on the competitor, rather than the customer. They want to work on things that will pay dividends in two or three years, and if they don’t work in two or three years they will move on to something else. And they prefer to be close-followers rather than inventors, because it’s safer. So if you want to capture the truth about Amazon, that is why we are different. Very few companies have all of those three elements.”

The narrative fallacy, Bezos explained, was a term coined by Nassim Nicholas Taleb in his 2007 book The Black Swan to describe how humans are biologically inclined to turn complex realities into soothing but oversimplified stories. Taleb argued that the limitations of the human brain resulted in our species’ tendency to squeeze unrelated facts and events into cause-and-effect equations and then convert them into easily understandable narratives. These stories, Taleb wrote, shield humanity from the true randomness of the world, the chaos of human experience, and, to some extent, the unnerving element of luck that plays into all successes and failures.

Bezos was in his midtwenties at the time, five foot eight inches tall, already balding and with the pasty, rumpled appearance of a committed workaholic. He had spent five years on Wall Street and impressed seemingly everyone he encountered with his keen intellect and boundless determination.

Bezos also revered pioneering computer scientist Alan Kay and often quoted his observation that “point of view is worth 80 IQ points”—a reminder that looking at things in new ways can enhance one’s understanding. “He went to school on everybody,” Minor says. “I don’t think there was anybody Jeff knew that he didn’t walk away from with whatever lessons he could.”

Bezos would later say he found a kind of workplace soul mate in David Shaw—“one of the few people I know who has a fully developed left brain and a fully developed right brain.”1

At the time, Bezos was newly married, with a comfortable apartment on the Upper West Side and a well-paying job. While MacKenzie said she would be supportive if he decided to strike out on his own, the decision was not an easy one. Bezos would later describe his thinking process in unusually geeky terms. He says he came up with what he called a “regret-minimization framework” to decide the next step to take at this juncture of his career. “When you are in the thick of things, you can get confused by small stuff,” Bezos said a few years later. “I knew when I was eighty that I would never, for example, think about why I walked away from my 1994 Wall Street bonus right in the middle of the year at the worst possible time. That kind of thing just isn’t something you worry about when you’re eighty years old. At the same time, I knew that I might sincerely regret not having participated in this thing called the Internet that I thought was going to be a revolutionizing event. When I thought about it that way… it was incredibly easy to make the decision.”11

So Jeff Bezos started planning for his journey. He held a party at his Upper West Side apartment to watch the final episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Bezos had tentatively decided to call his company Cadabra Inc. but was not committed to the name. Holden filled both sides of a piece of notebook paper with alternatives. The one Bezos liked best on the list was MakeItSo.com, after Captain Picard’s frequent command in Star Trek.

Usenet bulletin-board posting, August 21, 1994: Well-capitalized start-up seeks extremely talented C/C++/Unix developers to help pioneer commerce on the Internet. You must have experience designing and building large and complex (yet maintainable) systems, and you should be able to do so in about one-third the time that most competent people think possible. You should have a BS, MS, or PhD in Computer Science or the equivalent. Top-notch communication skills are essential. Familiarity with web servers and HTML would be helpful but is not necessary. Expect talented, motivated, intense, and interesting co-workers. Must be willing to relocate to the Seattle area (we will help cover moving costs). Your compensation will include meaningful equity ownership. Send resume and cover letter to Jeff Bezos. US mail: Cadabra, Inc. 10704 N.E. 28th St., Bellevue, WA 98004 We are an equal opportunity employer.

“It’s easier to invent the future than to predict it.” —Alan Kay

Type Relentless.com into the Web today and it takes you to Amazon.

There was little urgency to their efforts, at least at first. Kaphan recalls showing up at the Bellevue house early one morning in October, only to have Bezos declare that they were all going to take the day off to go hiking. “The weather was changing and the days were getting short,” Kaphan says. “We were all new to the area and hadn’t seen much of it.”

“At first it didn’t really have a lot of the energy one stereotypically associates with a startup,” says Davis, who biked to Bellevue each day wearing Gore-Tex socks over the cuffs of his trousers. “We were pre-startup. It was just Shel, myself, and Jeff in an office, sitting around a table with a whiteboard and discussing how to divide the programming work.”

He gave the impression that he didn’t care to hear anyone’s opinion on it, and he registered the new URL on November 1, 1994. “This is not only the largest river in the world, it’s many times larger than the next biggest river. It blows all other rivers away,” Bezos said.

Kaphan invited a former coworker, John Wainwright, to try the service, and Wainwright is credited with making the very first purchase: Fluid Concepts and Creative Analogies, a science book by Douglas Hofstadter. His Amazon account history records the date of that inaugural order as April 3, 1995.

Bezos felt that hiring only the best and brightest was key to Amazon’s success. For years he interviewed all potential hires himself and asked them for their SAT scores. “Every time we hire someone, he or she should raise the bar for the next hire, so that the overall talent pool is always improving,” he said, a recurring Jeffism.

And if the potential employees made the mistake of talking about wanting a harmonious balance between work and home life, Bezos rejected them.

Little by little, the CEO with the piercing laugh, thinning hair, and twitchy demeanor revealed his true self to his employees. He was unusually confident, more stubborn than they had originally thought, and he strangely and presumptuously assumed that they would all work tirelessly and perform constant heroics. He seemed to keep his ambitions and plans very close to the vest, not revealing much even to Kaphan.

And when Amazon had its first five-thousand-dollar-order day and Lovejoy wanted to throw a party, Bezos rejected the idea. “There are a lot of milestones coming and that’s not the way I want to run things,” he said.

“I walked into the door and this guy with a boisterous laugh who was just exuding energy comes bounding down the steps,” says Doerr, who had backed such winners as Netscape and Intuit. “In that moment, I wanted to be in business with Jeff.”

In the warehouse, an expanding and eclectic group raced to keep up with the surge of customer orders. An Amazon representative even told a temp agency, “Send us your freaks.” The bejeweled, tattooed, hair-dyed crew that responded to the call worked day and night in the warehouse next to the Pecos Pit and took turns selecting the music that played on a boom box. Their ranks included a three-hundred-pound baritone who would skip through the room belting out Russian arias.

Kaphan had taped a fortune-cookie message to the PC monitor on his desk. It read Let no one cause you to alter your code.

During those misadventures, Bezos seemed unperturbed. If anything, the setbacks made him push the company even harder into new territory. He said to Rick Dalzell, the former Army Ranger who’d joined Amazon from Walmart, “Physically, I’m a chicken. Mentally, I’m bold.” Susan Benson remembers riding up the Columbia Building elevator one morning with Amazon’s founder. She had Rufus in tow, and Bezos quietly studied the corgi. “You are a very sweet dog, Rufus,” he said. Then he looked up at Benson. “But you know, he is not bold.” Bezos used that word a lot: bold. In the company’s first letter to its public shareholders, written collaboratively by Bezos and Joy Covey and typed up by treasurer Russ Grandinetti in early 1998, the word bold was used repeatedly. “We will make bold rather than timid investment decisions where we see a sufficient probability of gaining market leadership advantages,” they wrote. “Some of these investments will pay off, others will not, and we will have learned another valuable lesson in either case.”

We believe that a fundamental measure of our success will be the shareholder value we create over the long term. This value will be a direct result of our ability to extend and solidify our current market leadership position. The stronger our market leadership, the more powerful our economic model. Market leadership can translate directly to higher revenue, higher profitability, greater capital velocity, and correspondingly stronger returns on invested capital. Our decisions have consistently reflected this focus. We first measure ourselves in terms of the metrics most indicative of our market leadership: customer and revenue growth, the degree to which our customers continue to purchase from us on a repeat basis, and the strength of our brand. We have invested and will continue to invest aggressively to expand and leverage our customer base, brand, and infrastructure as we move to establish an enduring franchise.

Bezos enforced strict frugality in Amazon’s daily operations; he made employees pay for parking and required all executives to fly coach. But he was surprisingly profligate in some ways. In early 1998, when he hired Randy Tinsley from Intel to become director of corporate development, one of the first things he said to him was “I am really looking forward to going shopping with you.” Their resulting splurge was epic. Amazon bought the movie database IMDB.com, the British Web bookstore BookPages, the German Web bookstore Telebuch, the online marketplace Exchange.com, the pioneering social-networking service PlanetAll, and a data-collection company called Alexa Internet—among many other purchases.

Amazon also veered disastrously into the venture-capital arena. In 1998 Bezos and venture capitalist John Doerr saw an opportunity for an online pharmacy and founded Drugstore.com, recruiting longtime Microsoft executive Peter Neupert to run it. Amazon owned a third of the company. The venture got off to a promising start, so for the next two years, Tinsley and Bezos invested tens of millions of Amazon’s cash in a variety of dot-com hopefuls, including Pets.com, Gear.com, Wineshopper.com, Greenlight.com, Homegrocer.com, and the urban delivery service Kozmo.com. In exchange for its cash, Amazon took a minority ownership position and a seat on the board for each, and the company believed it was well positioned for the future if those product categories succeeded on the Internet. The startups believed they had a powerful partner invested in their success. Almost all of them went down in flames, though, during the collapse of the dot-com bubble in 2000, and by then, Bezos had his own problems and possessed neither the temperament nor the time to try to save them. The company lost hundreds of millions on these investments. “Amazon had to be focused on its own business,” says Tinsley. “Our biggest mistake was thinking we had the bandwidth to work with all these companies.”

They agreed on five core values and wrote them down on a whiteboard in a conference room: customer obsession, frugality, bias for action, ownership, and high bar for talent. Later Amazon would add a sixth value, innovation.

To reinforce the notion of the high hiring bar, he drew inspiration from nearby Microsoft. As part of its famed recruiting process, Microsoft designated what it referred to as an as-appropriate senior interviewer, who talked to the candidate last and got to make the final judgment on the hire. Assigning an experienced executive to this role helped ensure that Microsoft maintained a consistent hiring standard. Bezos heard about the Microsoft program from Joel Spiegel and David Risher and then crafted Amazon’s own version, which he called bar raisers. Bar raisers at Amazon—the program still exists today—are designated employees who have proven themselves to be intuitive recruiters of talent.

Looking for a way to reinforce Walton’s notion of a bias for action, Bezos instituted the Just Do It award—an acknowledgment of an employee who did something notable on his own initiative, typically outside his primary job responsibilities. Even if the action turned out to be an egregious mistake, an employee could still earn the prize as long as he or she had taken risks and shown resourcefulness in the process.

Even top managers grew disillusioned. Three senior executives recall meeting privately in a conference room that year to write a list of all of Bezos’s successes and failures on a whiteboard. The latter column included Auctions, zShops, the investments in other dot-coms, and most of Amazon’s acquisitions. It was far longer than the first column, which at that time appeared to be limited to books, music, and DVDs. The future of the new toys, tools, and electronics categories was still in question. But through it all, Bezos never showed anxiety or appeared to worry about the wild swings in public sentiment. “We were all running around the halls with our hair on fire thinking, What are we going to do?” says Mark Britto, a senior vice president. But not Jeff. “I have never seen anyone so calm in the eye of a storm. Ice water runs through his veins,” Britto says.

Bezos scrawled I am not my stock price on the whiteboard in his office and instructed everyone to ignore the mounting pessimism. “You don’t feel thirty percent smarter when the stock goes up by thirty percent, so when the stock goes down you shouldn’t feel thirty percent dumber,” he said at an all-hands meeting.

With Christmas sales ramping up and hold times on Amazon phone lines once again growing longer, Bezos began the meeting by asking Price what the customer wait times were. Price then violated a cardinal rule at Amazon: he assured Bezos that they were well under a minute but without offering much in the way of proof. “Really?” Bezos said. “Let’s see.” On the speakerphone in the middle of the conference table, he called Amazon’s 800 number. Incongruously cheerful hold music filled the room. Bezos took his watch off and made a deliberate show of tracking the time. A brutal minute passed, then two. Other execs fidgeted uncomfortably while Price furtively picked up his cell phone and quietly tried to summon his subordinates. Bezos’s face grew red; the vein in his forehead, a hurricane warning system, popped out and introduced itself to the room. Around four and a half minutes passed, but according to multiple people at the meeting who related the story, the wait seemed interminable. Eventually a cheerful voice blurted out, “Hello, Amazon.com!” Bezos said, “I’m just calling to check,” and slammed down the phone. Then he tore into Price, accusing him of incompetence and lying. Price resigned about ten months later.

Over lunch in the Apple cafeteria in Cupertino, Jobs asked Piacentini why he would possibly want to go to a boring retailer when Apple was in the process of reinventing computing. Then in the same breath, Jobs suggested that maybe the career move revealed that Piacentini was so dumb that it was a good thing he was leaving Apple.

“My approach has always been that value trumps everything,” Sinegal continued. “The reason people are prepared to come to our strange places to shop is that we have value. We deliver on that value constantly. There are no annuities in this business.”

In 2008, Sinegal bought a Kindle e-reader that turned out to be defective and wrote Bezos a laudatory e-mail after Amazon’s customer service replaced his device for free. Bezos wrote back, “I want you to consider me your personal customer service agent on the Kindle.”

People left and afterward they took a breath and felt disoriented, like they had escaped a cult. Though they didn’t share it openly, many just couldn’t take working for Bezos any longer. He demanded more than they could possibly deliver and was extremely stingy with praise. At the same time, many felt a tremendous loyalty to Bezos and would later marvel at how much they accomplished at Amazon. Kim Rachmeler shared a favorite quote she heard from a colleague around that time. “If you’re not good, Jeff will chew you up and spit you out. And if you’re good, he will jump on your back and ride you into the ground.”

Miguel and his cousin joined about two dozen other Pedro Pans in a facility called Casa de Sales under the care of Father James Byrnes, a young priest who spoke fluent Spanish and enjoyed the occasional vodka tonic. They would later learn he was fresh from the seminary, but to his youthful charges, Byrnes was a towering figure of authority. He taught them English, forced them to focus on their studies, and gave them each fifty cents a week after their chores were done so they could attend a Saturday-night dance. “What he did for us we can never repay,” says Carlos Rubio Albet, Miguel and Angel Bezos’s roommate at the facility. “He took a houseful of exiled teenage boys who didn’t speak English and turned it into a real family. That first Christmas I was there, in ’62, he made sure everyone had something under that tree.” After the thirteen tension-filled days of the Cuban missile crisis in October of that year, the residents of La Casa, as they called it, knew they weren’t going home any time soon.

Playing sports didn’t diminish young Jeff Bezos’s passion for the nerdier pastimes. Star Trek was a fixture in the Bezos household in Houston, and they watched reruns in the afternoon after school.

Gise, who had been a lieutenant commander in the U.S. Navy during World War II, was in many ways Bezos’s mentor. He instilled in Bezos the values of self-reliance and resourcefulness, as well as a visceral distaste for inefficiency. “There was very little he couldn’t do himself,” Jackie Bezos says of her father. “He thought everything was something you could tackle in a garage.” Bezos and Pop Gise repaired windmills and castrated bulls; they attempted to grade dirt roads and built contraptions like an automatic gate opener and a crane to move the heavy parts of a broken-down D6 Caterpillar bulldozer.

He read seminal works by Jules Verne, Isaac Asimov, and Robert Heinlein and fantasized about interstellar travel, deciding that he wanted to grow up to be an astronaut. Pop Gise taught Bezos checkers and then soundly and repeatedly defeated him, despite Jackie’s pleading with him to let Jeff win a match. “He’ll beat me when he’s ready to,” her father said.6

On one of these road trips, when Bezos was ten and passing time in the back seat of the car, he took some mortality statistics he had heard on an antismoking public service announcement and calculated that his grandmother’s smoking habit would take nine years off her life. When he poked his head into the front seat to matter-of-factly inform her of this, she burst into tears, and Pop Gise pulled over and stopped the car. In fact, Mattie Gise fought cancer for years and would eventually succumb to it. Bezos described what happened next in his speech at Princeton. He got out of the car and came around and opened my door and waited for me to follow. Was I in trouble? My grandfather was a highly intelligent, quiet man. He had never said a harsh word to me, and maybe this was to be the first time? Or maybe he would ask that I get back in the car and apologize to my grandmother. I had no experience in this realm with my grandparents and no way to gauge what the consequences might be. We stopped beside the trailer. My grandfather looked at me, and after a bit of silence, he gently and calmly said, “Jeff, one day you’ll understand that it’s harder to be kind than clever.”