'I've never thrown a chair in my life'


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The chief executive of Microsoft responds to accusations that he threatened to kill Google and tells Martin Baker what it means to be Bill Gates's boss

Steve Ballmer is a very big man. And the chief executive of Microsoft, who is now Bill Gates's boss, no less, is having quite a big day, even by his own standards. We meet in Microsoft City, just outside Seattle, where Microsoft is formally announcing a range of products aimed at small and medium-sized companies, complete with the 12th version of its ubiquitous Office software.

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Steve Ballmer: ?It's gratifying to hear "good job" from Bill?

Analysts, hacks and customers have gathered to see the gods of the geek world do their stuff. The dress code is "business casual": chinos, not jeans; open-neck shirts, not T-shirts. The atmosphere is ruthlessly conformist. Sheepish smokers huddle outside. Inside, coffee, muffins, cheese snacks and salty nut mixes are in limitless supply as the conference hall monitors flick into life.

Our appointment is scheduled for early afternoon, after a morning's hard networking. The crisp, late-summer sun makes the buildings seem like cut-outs against a huge blue sky. This is the kind of gorgeously bleak cityscape that would have appealed to the painter Edward Hopper.

But that famous sense of isolation and meaninglessness doesn't come from figures trapped in their environment. That ambience has been created by the dehumanising language of the conference sessions. Gates, a grown man visibly upset that people in offices still use Post-It notes, intones: "The word 'dynamics' speaks to some very specific architectural capabilities" - this seems to be a claim that new software works quite well.

Ballmer is also a geek. But Ballmer is a sales-orientated geek - or part red-blooded, broad-shouldered, all-American sales director.

In public and private Ballmer has mastered the art of amiable shouting. The volume is always set to maximum, and the message delivered by the deep-set blue eyes is intense. He is a leader of geeks, and has a somewhat military air - which is fitting for a business that has a history of wiping its competitors from the face of the earth.

The issue of its competitive tactics is a hot one because only a week ago Ballmer was the subject of some embarrassing publicity that speaks of the depth of rivalry between Microsoft and Google, the internet search engine giant.

According to a sworn statement, Ballmer picked up a chair and threw it across the room when a former Microsoft engineer met him in November to discuss his intention to defect to Google.

Small wonder there were a few giggles in conference when Ballmer welcoming the competitive environment created by the open-source movement which gave birth to Linux, the free alternative operating system that nibbles at the edge of Microsoft's empires. So did he really throw a chair? He's clearly powerful enough. Ballmer insists: "I've never thrown a chair in my life."

So what about the colourful language? The engineer's affidavit alleges that Ballmer shouted: "F***ing Eric Schmidt [Google's chief executive] is a f***ing p****. I'm going to f***ing bury that guy. I have done it before, I will do it again. I'm going to f****ing kill Google."

Suddenly the body language is that of a chastened schoolboy. In the morning session, Ballmer was making points about Microsoft's persistence and tenacity at maximum decibels ("If we didn't get it right we'd keep working it and working it and working it") while punching the air.

That animation has gone now: "Did I want to keep that fellow at the company? Yes. Did I say I wanted to compete with Google? I don't know what words . . . Did he write down the exact words? I don't know. By and large I made a commitment nine years ago that I was not going to curse. I know I've had one or two transgressions in nine years, but I made that commitment to myself. Is that one of them? I don't recall."

It's hardly a denial. But you get the sense that Ballmer is more upset about this than anyone else. If a highly successful businessman occasionally indulges in a bit of foul language, who cares?

The fact that Ballmer himself does care is what matters. He inspires immense loyalty from his team and he effervesces energy. But there is the occasional concern raised among the army of analysts who follow Microsoft that all that charisma and dashing leadership would benefit from some checks and balances.

As Ballmer himself says: "In jobs like this you get very little feedback from anybody else. People might tell you whether things are good or bad, but really, how are you doing in aggregate? I get a little help from my board of directors once a year. It's mostly me."

So perhaps a little pressure from the media and the markets isn't such a bad thing. But what about Bill Gates? Isn't he the founder, the daddy of all in the 60,000-strong family of Microsoft, and therefore mentor-in-chief?

Well, yes, and no. The relationship is an interesting and obviously complex one. There's a hint of defensiveness when this even more famous name is dropped into the conversation. And there's also a flurry of apparently contradictory assertions: "[Gates is] chief software officer.

The relationship between us is about as complicated as it is between most husbands and wives. I'm his boss. He's my boss. We're friends. He used to be my boss and I was not his boss. We changed that five years ago - because he wanted to, which was an odd thing in itself.

"I get gratification in our friendship, I get gratification in our partnership. It's always gratifying to hear 'good job' from Bill."

But clearly he sees himself as the natural leader of the pack: "I think my range as a leader has changed a lot. Ask anybody round here 10 years ago they'd have said I was a leader by decree and energy. Decree on its own sounds authoritarian. But I'd be - 'whoo, whoo, let's go, let's go, let's go' - direction, and a lot of energy."

The grammar may not be perfect, but there's a classic pant-hoot from an alpha primate at the end of that passage that leaves you in no doubt as to how he used to get things done. Now, as the organisation has grown, Ballmer has a more measured style: "I'm not less energetic than I used to be, but I spend a whole lot more time to some degree building consensus and to some degree supporting the people who work for me with my energy."

As one of the original three top men at Microsoft (he joined in 1980 from Procter & Gamble, having met Gates at Harvard - there were 30 in the company then) you have to admire Ballmer's drive.

He is worth more than $12bn (?6.5bn), and claims that he doesn't mind the inevitable criticisms of Windows, which attracts attacks from all sides, including consumers and hackers. "I think it's cool that people expect that much of us. That's what [drives] us to be at the top level. I feel energised and challenged by that."

Fierce, driven, proud, he still does it for the love of the game - even if it can all sound a bit corny: "At Microsoft we have and will continue to genuinely engage in making the world a better place. We can change the world; our products change the world; our industry changes the world.&quotSource:: Telegraph UK

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