Steve Jobs was never a coder. He didn’t write specs. But he understood something deeper: taste. The rare kind that’s instinctive, generational, and maddeningly hard to replicate.

Jobs dropped out of Reed College and floated through India and calligraphy classes before co-founding Apple in his parents’ garage. He was obsessed with elegance—inside the circuit board and outside the box. But his genius was never just design. It was insistence. On beauty, on clarity, on stripping away everything that wasn’t essential.

After being ousted from Apple, Jobs spent a decade in the wilderness. He founded NeXT. Bought Pixar. Suffered. Grew. And when he returned to Apple in 1997, he came back as a product monk. Ruthless, visionary, purified.

The iMac, iPod, iPhone, iPad—these weren’t just gadgets. They were cultural resets. Jobs had a way of seeing what the world wanted before it knew how to ask.

“I skate to where the puck will be,” he told his team. “And I want it to be insanely great.”

His leadership was brutal. His instincts? Often dead right. His legacy? Proof that building timeless technology isn’t about specs. It’s about soul.