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2015年11月意大利语六级听力真题短文2,翻书笔记

  二〇一五年7月四日全国民代表大会学Republika Hrvatska语六级考试已了结,这一次试验为多题多卷,乐乎外语第偶尔间搜聚收拾不一致版本试题及参照他事他说加以考查答案,供考生参照他事他说加以考察,以下是二零一五年15月韩文六级听力真题短文二(沪江网校版卡塔尔:

作者:Jessica Livingston
出版社:Penguin Group
批发时间:2008
来源:下载的 mobi 版本

  Huang Yi works for a company that sells financial software to small
and medium size businesses. His job is to show customers how to use the
new software. He spends two weeks with each client, demonstrating the
features and functions of the software. The first few months in the job
were difficult. He often left the client feeling that even after two
weeks he hadn’t been able to show the employees everything they needed
to know. It’s not that they weren’t interested; they obviously
appreciated his instruction and showed a desire to learn. Huang couldn’t
figure it out the software was difficult for them to understand, or if
he was not doing a good job of teaching. During the next few months,
Huang started to see some patterns. He would get to a new client site
and spend the first week going over the software with the employees. He
usually did this in ships, with different groups of employees listening
to him lecture. Then he would spend the next week in installing the
program and helping individuals trouble-shoot. Huang realized that
during the week of trouble shooting and answering questions, he ended up
addressing the same issues over and over. He was annoyed because most of
the individuals with whom he worked seem to have retained very little
information from the first week. They asked very basic questions and
often needed prompting from beginning to end. At first, he wondered if
these people were just a little slow, but then he began to get the
distinct feeling that part of the problem might be his style presenting
information。

后天基友丢了自己生龙活虎篇作品,是 Paul Graham 介绍 YC
的一路创办人(也是他的贤内助) Jessica Livingston 的文字《Jessica
Livingston》,读了随后寻觅到她在很早此前写过那本书,就顺手读了一下,本书是
杰西卡 Livingston对叁十个人硅谷早期创办实业者的访谈,特别常有含金量,能够算是浓缩的硅谷互连网发展史

  Questions 19 to 22 are based on the passage you’ve just heard。

自己选拔了多少个自个儿感兴趣的人物,读下来收获非常大,正如 Jessica Livingston自个儿说的:

  19. What does Huang Yi do in his company?

I wrote in the Introduction that my biggest hope for the book was that
it would inspire people to start their own startups, by showing how
uncertain successful founders were themselves at first. And that seems
to be happening. My favorite email came from a programmer who quit his
job at a big company to become the first employee at a startup. The
founders had been working for a while to convince him to join the
company. “I quit my job the day after I finished reading Founders at
Work,” he said in an email. “Without your book, I may not have had the
courage to.”

I’m especially hoping this book inspires people who want to start
startups. The fame that comes with success makes startup founders seem
like they’re a breed apart. Perhaps if people can see how these
companies actually started, it will be less daunting for them to
envision starting something of their own. I hope a lot of the people
who read these stories will think, “Hey, these guys were once just
like me. Maybe I could do it too.”

  20. What did Huang Yi think of his work?

为了围绕那几个目的,他访谈的人最首倘使团伙的 Geek,并非总老板,因为在她看来,技巧是那几个世界的常有驱引力,这里列一下装有被搜聚的职员:

  21. What did Huang Yi do in addition to lecturing?

  1. Max Levchin – Cofounder, PayPa
  2. Sabeer Bhatia – Cofounder, Hotmail
  3. Steve Wozniak – Cofounder, Apple Computer
  4. Joe Kraus – Cofounder, Excite
  5. Dan Bricklin – Cofounder, Software Arts
  6. Mitchell Kapor – Cofounder, Lotus Development
  7. Ray Ozzie – Founder, Iris Associates, Groove Networks
  8. Evan Williams – Cofounder, Pyra Labs (Blogger.com)
  9. Tim Brady – First Non-Founding Employee, Yahoo
  10. Mike Lazaridis – Cofounder, Research In Motion
  11. Arthur van Hoff – Cofounder, Marimba
  12. Paul Buchheit – Creator, Gmail
  13. Steve Perlman – Cofounder, WebTV
  14. Mike Ramsay – Cofounder, TiVo
  15. Paul Graham – Cofounder, Viaweb
  16. Joshua Schachter – Founder, del.icio.us
  17. Mark Fletcher – Founder, ONElist, Bloglines
  18. Craig Newmark – Founder, craigslist
  19. Caterina Fake – Cofounder, Flickr
  20. Brewster Kahle – Founder, WAIS, Internet Archive, Alexa Internet
  21. Charles Geschke – Cofounder, Adobe Systems
  22. Ann Winblad – Cofounder, Open Systems, Hummer Winblad
  23. David Heinemeier Hansson – Partner, 37signals
  24. Philip Greenspun – Cofounder, ArsDigita
  25. Joel Spolsky – Cofounder, Fog Creek Software
  26. Stephen Kaufer – Cofounder, TripAdvisor
  27. James Hong – Cofounder, HOT or NOT
  28. James Currier – Founder, Tickle
  29. Blake Ross – Creator, Firefox
  30. Mena Trott – Cofounder, Six Apart
  31. Bob Davis – Founder, Lycos
  32. Ron Gruner – Cofounder, Alliant Computer Systems; Founder, 33.
    Shareholder.com
  33. Jessica Livingston – Cofounder, Y Combinator

  22. What did Huang Yi realize in the end?

摘录:

Sprinters apparently reach their highest speed right out of the blocks,
and spend the rest of the race slowing down. The winners slow down the
least. It’s that way with most startups too. The earliest phase is
usually the most productive. That’s when they have the really big ideas.
Imagine what Apple was like when 100 percent of its employees were
either Steve Jobs or Steve Wozniak.
The striking thing about this phase is that it’s completely different
from most people’s idea of what business is like. If you looked in
people’s heads (or stock photo collections) for images representing
“business,” you’d get images of people dressed up in suits, groups
sitting around conference tables looking serious, PowerPoint
presentations, and people producing thick reports for one another to
read. Early-stage startups are the exact opposite of this. And yet
they’re probably the most productive part of the whole economy.
Why the disconnect? I think there’s a general principle at work here:
the less energy people expend on performance, the more they expend on
appearances to compensate. More often than not, the energy they expend
on seeming impressive makes their actual performance worse. A few years
ago, I read an article in which a car magazine modified the sports model
of some production car to get the fastest possible standing quarter
mile. You know how they did it? They cut off all the crap the
manufacturer had bolted onto the car to make it look fast.
Business is broken the same way that car was. The effort that goes into
looking productive is not merely wasted, but actually makes
organizations less productive. Suits, for example, do not help people to
think better. I bet most executives at big companies do their best
thinking when they wake up on Sunday morning and go downstairs in their
bathrobe to make a cup of coffee. That’s when you have ideas. Just
imagine what a company would be like if people could think that well at
work. People do in startups, at least some of the time. (Half the time
they’re in a panic because their servers are on fire, but the other half
they’re thinking as deeply as most people only get to sitting alone on a
Sunday morning.)
Ditto for most of the other differences between startups and what passes
for productivity in big companies. And yet conventional ideas of
“professionalism” have such an iron grip on our minds that even startup
founders are affected by them. In our startup, when outsiders came to
visit, we tried hard to seem “professional.” We’d clean up our offices,
wear better clothes, and try to arrange a lot of people to be there
during conventional office hours. In fact, programming didn’t get done
by well-dressed people at clean desks during office hours. It got done
by badly dressed people (I was notorious for programming wearing just a
towel) in offices strewn with junk at 2:00 in the morning. But no
visitor would understand that. Not even investors, who are supposed to
be able to recognize real productivity when they see it. Even we were
affected by the conventional wisdom. We thought of ourselves as
impostors, succeeding despite being totally unprofessional. It was as if
we’d created a Formula 1 car but felt sheepish because it didn’t look
like a car was supposed to look.

I wrote in the Introduction that my biggest hope for the book was that
it would inspire people to start their own startups, by showing how
uncertain successful founders were themselves at first. And that seems
to be happening. My favorite email came from a programmer who quit his
job at a big company to become the first employee at a startup. The
founders had been working for a while to convince him to join the
company. “I quit my job the day after I finished reading Founders at
Work,” he said in an email. “Without your book, I may not have had the
courage to.”

In addition to having perseverance, founders need to be adaptable. Not
only because it takes a certain level of mental flexibility to
understand what users want, but because the plan will probably change.
People think startups grow out of some brilliant initial idea like a
plant from a seed. But almost all the founders I interviewed changed
their ideas as they developed them. PayPal started out writing
encryption software, Excite started as a database search company, and
Flickr grew out of an online game.

I’m especially hoping this book inspires people who want to start
startups. The fame that comes with success makes startup founders seem
like they’re a breed apart. Perhaps if people can see how these
companies actually started, it will be less daunting for them to
envision starting something of their own. I hope a lot of the people who
read these stories will think, “Hey, these guys were once just like me.
Maybe I could do it too.”

Livingston: Tell me a little about how PayPal got started.
Levchin: The company was really not founded to do payments at all. My
focus in college was security. I wanted to do crypto and stuff like
that. I had already founded three different companies during college and
the year after, which I spent in Champaign-Urbana, where I went to
school. Then, in favor of not doing graduate school, I decided to move
out to Silicon Valley and try to start another company.
So I was hanging around Silicon Valley in the summer of ’98 and was not
really sure what I was going to do with my life. I was living in Palo
Alto, squatting on the floor of a friend. I went to see this random
lecture at Stanford—given by a guy named Peter, who I had heard about,
but never met before.
The lecture turned out to have only six people in it. It was in the heat
of the summer, so nobody showed up. This guy was like, “There are only
six of you, OK.” Afterwards I walked up to talk to him. He was this
really intense guy, and he said, “We should get breakfast sometime.” So
we met up the next week.
I had two different ideas that I was considering starting companies
around, and I pitched him on both evenly. Peter was running a hedge fund
at the time. For a few weeks we kept talking, and eventually he said,
“Take this idea, because this one is better, and you go start a company
around it, and then I can have my hedge fund invest a little bit of
money in it”—like a couple hundred thousand dollars. That was a good
thing, since I was starting to run out of money.
I had just moved from Champaign; most of my contacts and friends were in
Chicago. One of them I was trying to convince to be the CEO. He wasn’t
really available, so I wound up being without a CEO. I called Peter and
said, “This investment is a great thing, but I have no one to run the
company. I’m just going to write the code and recruit the coders.” And
he said, “Maybe I could be your CEO.” So I said, “That’s a really good
idea.” The next 2 weeks we were sort of playing with the idea, and by
1/1/99 we agreed that he would be the CEO and I would be the CTO.

Livingston: When did you first notice fraudulent behavior?
Levchin: From day one. It was pretty funny because we met with all these
people in the banking and credit card processing industry, and they
said, “Fraud is going to eat you for lunch.” We said, “What fraud?” They
said, “You’ll see, you’ll see.”
I actually had an advisor or two from the financial industry, and they
said, “Get ready for chargebacks. You need to have some processing in
place.” We said, “Uh huh.” They said, “You don’t know what a chargeback
is, do you?”
Livingston: So you didn’t foresee this fraud?
Levchin: I had no idea what was going to happen.
Livingston: But you weren’t too surprised?
Levchin: We tried to attack the system for ourselves, like a good
security person would. How can you cheat and steal money and do
whatever? We made some provisions from day one to prevent fraud. We
prevented all the obvious fraud, and then, I think 6 months into it, we
saw the first chargeback and were like, “Ah, one per week. OK.” Then it
was like an avalanche of losses; 2000 was basically the year of fraud,
where we were just losing more and more and more money every month. At
one point we were losing over $10 million per month in fraud. It was
crazy.
That was when I decided that that was going to be my next challenge. I
started researching it, figuring out what could be done and attacking
the problem.

Livingston: Did you patent this technique?
Levchin: I didn’t really want to patent it because, for one, I don’t
like software patents, and, two, if you patent it, you make it public.
Even if you don’t know someone’s infringing, they will still be getting
the benefit. Instead, we just chose to keep it a trade secret and not
show it to anyone.
After a while, IGOR became well known to the company, like all the other
tools that we had built early on. We had patented some of it, and some
of it we said, “OK, it’s open for wide use now.” There’s still a whole
bunch of tools that they are using today that are not public. They don’t
talk about it much at all, and I think that’s a good thing.

Levchin: No, because I think we didn’t know what we were doing. I think
the hallmark of a really good entrepreneur is that you’re not really
going to build one specific company. The goal—at least the way I think
about entrepreneurship—is you realize one day that you can’t really work
for anyone else. You have to start your own thing. It almost doesn’t
matter what that thing is. We had six different business plan changes,
and then the last one was PayPal.

When coworkers Sabeer Bhatia and Jack Smith began working on their first
startup idea—a web-based personal database they called JavaSoft—they
were frustrated because their employer’s firewall prevented them from
accessing their personal email accounts.
To solve their problem, they came up with the idea of email accounts
that could be accessed anonymously through a web browser. This idea
became the startup. In 1996, the first web-based email was born,
offering people free email accounts that could be accessed from any
computer with an Internet connection.
Less than 2 years later, they had grown Hotmail’s user base faster than
any media company in history. On New Year’s Eve, 1997, Microsoft
acquired Hotmail for $400 million.

Livingston: Take me back to how the idea got started and evolved into
Hotmail. How did you know Jack?
Bhatia: I met Jack Smith when I joined Apple Computer. We were working
on the same project building PowerBook portables. Our manager left the
company to join a startup in the Valley called FirePower Systems. Jack
and I knew Apple would have given us steady, stable employment, but it
wasn’t with grand stock options. So we decided to leave Apple and join
this startup.

The Internet was just unfolding, so I started spending more and more
time on it, and it was interesting. It was exciting to see these little
companies get started. Two of my colleagues from Stanford had gone on to
start Yahoo, and I thought, “Wow. This is just a list, a directory which
tells you what is where. And somebody put $1 million in them.” I mean,
that was huge. So I thought, “This Internet thing is here to stay,” and
I started playing around with it and came up with the idea to do a
simple-to-install database at the back end. Then you’d use the browser
as the front end. It could store any piece of information at the back,
but the browser would be used to display it. So people could just look
for it and be able to create a personal database of anything: contact
information, phone numbers, special files, or whatever it is that you
would do on a local PC.

Livingston: Had you quit your jobs?
Bhatia: No, we were actually both working, so we decided to spend all of
the time on the weekends and evenings building this product. Then it
came to a point that one of us had to quit our job to focus full-time on
it, so I told Jack, “I’m single and don’t have a family. Why don’t you
quit and start working on this and I’ll give you half of my salary?” So
at least he could support his family. I didn’t need that much money.
We started building the product and then started looking around for
funding. We went to a number of VCs and many of them turned us down
because they were like, “How are you going to make money if you are
going to give it away for free? What’s the revenue mechanism?” We said
we would capture detailed demographic information about people and that
detailed quality of information on individuals would help us advertise
to them. But of course advertising was not a proven revenue model at
that time.

Livingston: You finally pitched Draper Fisher Jurvetson (DFJ) and they
passed the test. Tell me about getting funding.
Bhatia: They liked the idea right off the bat. They said, “We’re going
to get one of our partners to come in and take a look at this because it
could be big.” So Tim Draper came in the following week and he liked the
idea. After another meeting he said, “OK, we’re ready to fund you. We
like this very much. How much do you want?”
I did some calculations on the back of an envelope and asked for $3
million, which was our plan based on hiring a few engineers.
They said, “No, that’s too much. How much money do you need just to
prove to us that you can do this—that it’s even possible to make email
available on the web?” So I asked for half a million and he said, “I’ll
give you $300,000.” I said, “Alright, I’ll take it.”
They wanted 30 percent of the company, which would value us at $1
million. It was an intense negotiation; I threatened to go to the other
VCs if they didn’t pony up the money. We finally settled on a 15 percent
split with them and they valued the company at $2 million post money.
But they’d put in a right of first refusal. Since I was a young
entrepreneur at the time, I didn’t understand that this basically meant
that you couldn’t go to any other VC. So even though they didn’t get
their chunk in the first piece, in any subsequent round they would have
the ability to take up the entire round.
Livingston: Your lawyer didn’t point out that clause?
Bhatia: We didn’t have a very good lawyer back then. Of course it was
touted to us as “We love you so much that we want to have the right to
buy the next round. You can go to other people too.”
But that’s the one that got us. It impeded our ability to go to another
VC. What ended up happening was that we could not get a higher valuation
because DFJ wanted to put more money in the company themselves. So any
time we would talk to another VC, they would talk him out of it: “This
is not a good company, don’t worry about it.” So we were really stuck
with DFJ for the next round.
Livingston: They put you down to other VCs?
Bhatia: They did. Of course, that was very early on and now everything
is all fine and dandy, but at that point in time . . . we had a term
sheet for a much higher valuation. But when we would talk to any other
VC, the other VC would call the guys at DFJ and they’d say, “No, don’t
invest in them.”
Livingston: Were they helpful at all?
Bhatia: Yes. Steve Jurvetson was very helpful; he introduced us to a lot
of people and, on the whole, they’re a good VC firm in the sense that
they try to put deals together. But sometimes they don’t play by the
rules.

Livingston: Was there ever a time when you thought you were in
trouble?
Bhatia: The only time was when we had to go in for the second round of
financing. We didn’t have any money and Tim was at the Olympics in
Atlanta and he refused to fund us because we wanted a slightly higher
valuation. This was what all the other VCs were telling us, but he
wanted to invest at a lower valuation. We had only a couple of weeks
worth of money left and I would not have been able to meet the next
payroll. So as soon as he came back, we literally had to accept his
terms and move on.

Livingston: Web-based email was so new to the world. What did consumers
misunderstand?
Bhatia: We had a sales guy who signed up his mom, and his mom said,
“Yes, I can see that there’s an email from you, but how do I read it?”
And he said, “Mom, go and click on it.” She didn’t know you had to click
on it!
I heard another story from a man who said his sister would get into the
Hotmail account not directly by going to
http://hotmail.com,
but by going to Yahoo, typing in the word “hotmail,” and then it would
bring up the Hotmail page and then she’d log in. And he’d say, “Why do
you do it that way?” and the sister would say, “My friend taught me this
is how you get to Hotmail, so that’s what I’ve been doing.” The usage
patterns of how people used the Internet were baffling to us.

Livingston: Tell me about the negotiation process.
Bhatia: They called us to meet with Bill on October 13, 1997, and we
were shown the Microsoft campus, headquarters, the whole works. We were
taken to Bill’s office, met with him, and then we were taken to a room
with a gigantic table, and there were about 15 Microsoft negotiators
sitting on the other side: business development people, lawyers,
accountants, all of them.
They gave a presentation about how much they liked the company and this
and that, and they said they wanted to buy us and placed an offer of
$160 million. I knew that that was the opening shot and I said, “Thank
you very much for making an offer. We really, really like your company
and like the fact that you like us so much. We’ll go back to our board
and discuss this and get back to you.”
And the CFO said, “C’mon, is that in the right ballpark?” He wanted me
to open my mouth, but I was told beforehand that if I opened my mouth,
there was no way I could negotiate with so many people. It was just the
three of us: Jack Smith, myself, and our VP of marketing.
Livingston: The VCs gave you the liberty to negotiate, right? That
surprises me.
Bhatia: Luckily it was very early on; had we been burning through a lot
of cash, had we been around for a while, they probably would have put
pressure on us. But we were under no pressure at that point in time.
Livingston: What drove you to keep on negotiating until you got the $400
million?
Bhatia: Once you’ve got a lead in terms of a subscriber base, that is
unassailable. It can’t be replicated easily. So I knew even if they
started developing the product—I have no doubt in my mind that they
could have developed it, so many engineers and smart people in
Microsoft. At that time they had something like 16,000 engineers, and I
had a total of 60 people in the company, only 14 engineers, so it would
have been easy to pick 15 guys from 16,000 and build this product. But I
knew we had that momentum behind us and that is very hard to
replicate.
Livingston: You arrived in this country with only $250 in your pocket.
Wasn’t it tempting for you to agree to sell for, say, $300 million?
Bhatia: Once you have tasted this kind of success, once you’ve tasted
that it works, that you’ve got subscribers who are telling you it’s
good, you know you are going to get there. In fact, that’s exactly
what’s happened. That 6-month lead that we had already over any of our
competitors today has translated into about a 50 to 100 million–user
lead.
Seeing how they did a lousy job of providing email to their 2.5 million
subscribers, I also knew that they didn’t have the technology in house.
Because if they did, they wouldn’t have been asking to license this from
us. If we had gone the licensing route, I think we would have been as
big as Google. Because that’s what Google did, right? Initially, they
said, “We’ve got search. Why don’t we license search to everyone else?”
That was their original business model. They licensed it to Yahoo,
Microsoft, and AOL and grew big based on their subscribers.

When did you start Y Combinator?
Livingston: We started Y Combinator in March 2005. Around that same
time, I had gotten a book deal for Founders at Work, so I had planned to
quit my job doing marketing at an investment bank and work full-time for
a little while on the book. But we started Y Combinator simultaneously,
so I didn’t really get to spend much time on the book.
What was the process when Y Combinator got started?
Livingston: That would assume that we had a process. There was no
process. Remember, Y Combinator started off as an experiment. Paul had
wanted to do angel investing. He wanted to help people start companies.
But he didn’t really want all the requirements that come with being an
angel investor, so he thought he should start an organization that could
handle all of this for him. I said, “That sounds interesting. I’d love
to work with entrepreneurs.” So we sort of hatched this idea for Y
Combinator, and I was the one in charge of doing a lot of the business
stuff.
We decided to do a batch of investments at once, so that we could learn
how to be investors. We decided, “OK, we’ll invest in a group of
startups, and we’ll do it over the summer since a lot of people are free
over the summertime.”

What was the point when you quit?
Livingston: If I remember correctly, it was the Monday after we
conducted the interviews. We got a lot of applications, more than we
thought we would. And then we chose about 20 groups to come to Cambridge
to interview—over a Saturday and Sunday, all day long. On Sunday night
we called everyone.
We chose eight that we had wanted to fund, and all of them but one said
yes. I give the founders a lot of credit, because this was a brand new
concept and Y Combinator had no track record. The deal was: move to
Cambridge for the summer and get $12,000 or $18,000, depending on
whether you were two or three founders. We based the amount of money on
the MIT graduate student stipend, which was a couple grand a month. We
said, “Come to Cambridge and we’ll work with you, and we’ll get together
for dinner and hear from guest speakers every week.” (Unfortunately for
Paul, we hijacked his personal office to use for Y Combinator.) So seven
of them said yes, and I went into work on Monday thinking “Y Combinator
is real now”—even though we didn’t even have Y Combinator legally set up
at this point. I gave my notice that day, I think.
But that day something else very memorable happened. There had been one
group, two guys from UVA, who were still seniors and were graduating
that spring—Alexis Ohanian and Steve Huffman. They came to us with an
idea that we just thought was wrong for two young guys with no
connections in the fast food industry. Their idea was ordering fast food
through your cell phone. And we didn’t fund them. We told them, “Sorry,
we really liked you guys, but we just think your idea would be a bit too
challenging.” But that morning when I was at work, Paul called them and
said, “We like you guys. Would you be willing to work on another idea?”
They were on an Amtrak train heading back to Virginia.
I remember Paul emailed me and the subject line was “muffins saved.” I
had nicknamed them “the muffins,” because I just loved them. It was just
sort of an affectionate name. I remember thinking, “This is so
exciting.” They had gotten off the train in Hartford or something and
headed back to Boston to go meet with Paul to brainstorm new ideas. I
thought, “These are the kind of people I want to fund—people who would
get off the train and go back and make it happen.” So we wound up
funding eight companies that summer

Paul Buchheit was Google’s 23rd employee. He was the creator and lead
developer of Gmail, Google’s web-based email system, which anticipated
most aspects of what is now called Web 2.0. As part of his work on
Gmail, Buchheit developed the first prototype of AdSense, Google’s
program for running ads on other websites. He also suggested the
company’s now-famous motto, “Don’t be evil,” at a 2000 meeting on
company values.
Although not a founder, Buchheit probably contributed more to Google
than many founders do their startups. Gmail was in effect a startup
within Google—a dramatically novel project on the margins of the
company, initiated by a small group and brought to fruition against a
good deal of resistance.

Livingston: What number employee were you?
Buchheit: 23.
Livingston: How did you join Google?
Buchheit: I was working at Intel in the area and was kind of bored. I
was looking around for something more interesting and I emailed Google
my résumé. Interestingly enough, the first time I emailed my résumé, it
bounced because their mail server was down. But I emailed it again the
next day and it got through and they called me up. I came in and took a
job.
It worked out well, but it wasn’t like I saw this company and said, “Oh
wow, this is going to succeed!” I just thought it would be fun. It
looked like there were some smart people and it was kind of interesting
work—that it would be more fun than my old job.
Livingston: Did you get any compensation for doing this project that was
such a big success within the company?
Buchheit: It’s hard for me to know even, because, even after the initial
stock grants, throughout the history of the company they’ve given
follow-on grants. So I don’t know what mine would have been if I wasn’t
working on Gmail.
Livingston: I heard you came up with the famous “Don’t be evil”
principle. Can you give me the background?
Buchheit: I believe that it was sometime in early 2000, and there was a
meeting to decide on the company’s values. They invited a collection of
people who had been there for a while. I had just come from Intel, so
the whole thing with corporate values seemed a little bit funny to me. I
was sitting there trying to think of something that would be really
different and not one of these usual “strive for excellence” type of
statements. I also wanted something that, once you put it in there,
would be hard to take out.
It just sort of occurred to me that “Don’t be evil” is kind of funny.
It’s also a bit of a jab at a lot of the other companies, especially our
competitors, who at the time, in our opinion, were kind of exploiting
the users to some extent. They were tricking them selling search
results—which we considered a questionable thing to do because people
didn’t realize that they were ads.
Livingston: The users didn’t know?
Buchheit: Companies would just mix the ads in with the regular search
results so people would think it was a search result. It’s kind of like
fake news or something. In a newspaper, they’re usually pretty good
about separating out which things are advertisements and which aren’t.
But the search engines at the time were all selling search results and
mixing them in with the real ones, so it was a little bit of a
differentiator that we always said that we would never do that— and
haven’t.
So it was all those inspirations, and I just thought it was a catchy
little phrase. But the real fun of it was that people get a little
uncomfortable with anything different, so throughout the meeting, the
person running it kept trying to push “Don’t be evil” to the bottom of
the list. But this other guy, Amit Patel, and I kept kind of forcing
them to put it up there. And because we wouldn’t let it fall off the
list, it made it onto the final set and took on a life of its own from
there. Amit started writing it down all over the building, on
whiteboards everywhere. It’s the only value that anyone is aware of,
right? It’s not the typical meaningless corporate statement or
platitude.

Words Review List:

words sentence
Formula 1 some people who know that a high performance car looks like a Formula 1 racecar
the sheer number of The biggest surprise has been the sheer number of people interested in startups
BA She has a BA in English from Bucknell
Bucknell She has a BA in English from Bucknell
candid I know the candid nature of their stories
Champaign-Urbana which I spent in Champaign-Urbana
Palo Alto I was living in Palo Alto
inexplicable which was inexplicable
nondeterministic in the end, fraud is so nondeterministic that you need a human or a quantum computer to look at it
paranoid I was definitely very paranoid
maiden Give me your social security number, give me your address and your mother’s maiden name
tagline You had a tagline in the body of the email
gigantic we were taken to a room with a gigantic table
C’mon C’mon, is that in the right ballpark?
ballpark C’mon, is that in the right ballpark?
monetize what the last 10 to 15 years of my experience of the Internet has taught me is that it’s OK if you don’t monetize them right up front

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