RE: Dr. Oz
Jon Gruber wrote a bit about him:
I met Dr. Oz ten years ago. It was after the Apple event on Tuesday, 9 September 2014, at the Flint Center in Cupertino, where Apple unveiled Apple Watch after introducing the iPhone 6 and 6 Plus. Apple had erected a startlingly large temporary building in front of the Flint Center, which, post-event, was opened to attending media and celebrities to showcase Apple Watch’s various capabilities. But post-event press briefings were held inside the Flint Center, in a byzantine complex of subterranean rooms beneath the massive ground floor auditorium.
I had a one-on-one off-the-record briefing with Jony Ive. (Fascinating and fun — we spent most of the all-too-brief 30 minutes talking about watch bands and the exquisite packaging and charging case of the Edition models.) The waiting area for these press briefings was set up to look a bit like a mostly empty Apple Store. The central focus of this waiting area was a large table with a glass top; under the glass were a variety of Apple Watch models. The table was a prototype of the ones that Apple would put in its retail stores, for which they obtained multiple patents. While I was waiting for my briefing with Ive, the only other person from the media waiting with me was Oz.
It’s a weird thing to be alone, effectively, with someone of Oz’s celebrity. It’s like being in a room with a million dollars in $100 bills stacked in a perfectly-arranged pyramid. No matter how you to try to direct your attention, your mind keeps popping back to Holy shit, there’s a million dollars in cash right there. His hair was perfect, his shirt crisply pressed. It was a very nice shirt. He smiled at all times, and seemed genuinely happy to be there, and genuinely interested in Apple Watch, but not for what Apple Watch actually was or could be, but simply because it was a major new thing, and he was a VIP invitee at the introduction of this major new thing. And my mind would pop, for the umpteenth time, Holy shit, that’s Dr. Oz right there.
We spent an unceasingly awkward 10 minutes circling around that table together. He never shut up. He chattered, nonstop, with inane observations, like “Hey, look at that one, it’s orange! What’s that one, leather?” He was not talking to me, nor was he, really, talking to himself. It was like he was talking to a TV camera, as though we were being filmed for B-roll footage for his show — but there was no camera. It was just me and him, standing around that table exhibiting dozens of Apple Watch prototypes that we were unable to touch, with a handful of Apple PR reps hanging around the sides of the room in silence, pecking away on their iPhones, waiting for a notice from one of their colleagues that it was time to escort one of us to our briefing. Oz was called first, thankfully. It gave me a few minutes of silence to gather my thoughts, and study the watches (albeit under glass), without distraction. I sometimes wonder who his briefing was with. (Phil Schiller, perhaps?)
I came away with the impression that Mehmet Oz was, despite his well-deserved medical renown, preternaturally vapid and preening, and, thus, to me, an incongruous figure. Simultaneously a brilliant mind in the field of thoracic surgery, and yet dumb as a rock in everyday human interaction. I spent the first few minutes with him wondering if I should introduce myself. I spent the last few glad I hadn’t, because he was so obviously a staggeringly uninteresting and uninterested man.
I would have much preferred spending those 10 minutes chatting with Dr. Nick.