Max was a mess. We were on our third mojito at the Basin in Saratoga when it just came pouring out of him. The last 72 hours involved this:
Two days in Los Angeles babysitting a customer’s data center.
Four hours of sleep.
Two huge arguments with his wife on the cell phone.
A marathon conference call with his boss, which resulted in a new trip to Chicago in two days.
The mojitos might’ve been talking, but it sounded like Max was sure that his wife was going to leave him; his company was about to crumble; and he was 12 hours and one plane flight from a nervous breakdown.
He said, “Shipping a 1.0 ...
