CTRL+Z: Rewritten

Reagan Hits CTRL+Z

On October 20th, 1980, Ronald Reagan wrote the president of the air traffic controllers' union a letter calling their working conditions "deplorable" and promising his administration would fix them. PATCO endorsed him three days later. It was the first time the union had ever backed a Republican. Ten months into his presidency, 11,400 controllers walked off the job. Reagan gave them forty-eight hours to come back. When the deadline passed, he fired every single one of them, broke the union, and dared the FAA to keep the planes flying with less than a third of its workforce. The planes kept flying. The consequences took longer to arrive. This week we hit Control Z on the forty-eight-hour deadline, and follow what happens when the president who promised to fix the system decides not to destroy it.

Disney Hits CTRL+Z

In October of 2016, Bob Iger was 48 hours from buying Twitter for $15 billion. Both boards had approved. The lawyers were drafting. Goldman Sachs was working the weekend. Then Iger went through the user data one more time, read his own notifications, and couldn't sleep. Sunday morning he typed an email to his board with the subject line "cold feet," called Jack Dorsey, and killed the deal. Twenty-eight days later, Donald Trump won the presidency. Fourteen months after that, Disney bought 21st Century Fox instead, and Disney+ followed. This week we hit Control Z on the Sunday morning phone call, and follow what happens when the man who runs Disney decides to own the platform that hosts the president.

Trailer- CTRL+Z: Rewritten

On a computer, Control Z is the undo button. When you press it, whatever you just typed gets reversed and allows you to make a different decision. What if you could press control Z on some of the biggest decisions in history?

Pope Urban II Hits CTRZ+Z

In November of 1095, a sixty-year-old French pope stood in a field outside the cathedral of Clermont and gave the most consequential speech of the Middle Ages. Eight months earlier, ambassadors from the Byzantine emperor had asked him for a few thousand professional knights to help fight the Seljuk Turks. Standard contract work. Urban II sat with the request through the summer, then walked outside on November 27th and offered something nobody had ever heard before. Full remission of sins for everyone who took the cross. The crowd shouted back, "Deus vult." God wills it. They asked for soldiers. He gave them a holy war. This week we hit Control Z on the speech that launched the Crusades, and follow what happens when one man writes the smaller answer.

Blockbuster Hits CTRL+Z

In September of 2000, three guys from a tiny DVD-rental startup called Netflix flew to Dallas on a chartered jet they couldn't afford to make a pitch to the most powerful video rental chain on Earth. Reed Hastings asked Blockbuster CEO John Antioco for fifty million dollars. Antioco's mouth twitched at the corner. His general counsel told the room the dot-com hysteria was overblown. The Netflix guys flew home crestfallen. Today Netflix is worth four hundred billion dollars, and the only Blockbuster left in America is a tourist attraction in Bend, Oregon. He almost said yes. This week we hit Control Z on the deal that would have killed Netflix in the crib, and follow what happens when one man writes the check.