It seems a little strange, but I can remember exactly what I was doing when I learned Steve Jobs had died.
I was in Sage Hall in Ithaca, New York. I was a first-year MBA student at Cornell, and had just finished a corporate briefing with Amazon. After the post-briefing networking wound down, I set up with a couple of classmates in a breakout room overlooking the Sage Atrium. The three of us were planning the logistics of our Seattle tech trek. I opened my laptop and launched Safari. My home page was the Wall Street Journal. And there it was.
I told my classmates, and the three of us sat in silence for a moment. Then we looked out the window, down on the Atrium where students were still mingling with recruiters, and we saw everyone's attention turn to their smartphones. One by one, we saw them learn what we had just learned. Everyone slumped. The conversations died. The Atrium was empty in two minutes.
There was nothing to say.