Yesterday a man with a receding salt-and-pepper hairline, wearing wire-rimmed glasses, jeans, running shoes and button-down chambray shirt was standing outside Le Cirque on East 58th Street. He had a cellphone pressed to one ear while speaking acidly to a harried-looking young colleague standing by: “...if I hang up I lose my place in line, I have to listen to this fucking muzak all over again for another fucking fifteen fucking minutes— Hello? Hello! Finally! Please don’t put me on hold. I’ve been on hold literally for half an hour! This is Steve Jobs! Yes! This is super important.