It’s tricky business to define Sam Altman’s “day job.”
He’s got the basic task of overseeing OpenAI’s executives and staff, as any CEO does. Work doesn’t stay at the office, though. Altman has become the public face of the AI boom, responsible for selling a technology that’s upending workforces, capturing markets, and costing billions of dollars to build. That’s often a high-wire act, and especially so this week — he also had to sell himself.
I watched Altman’s testimony on Tuesday in the Oakland courtroom where, for weeks, jurors have weighed Elon Musk’s arguments against those of OpenAI and Microsoft. Musk says Altman and OpenAI president Greg Brockman “stole” the OpenAI charity. They responded that the charity actually thrives because of the commercial moves they made.
It’s a high-profile, high-stakes trial, and I was keen to see how Altman would perform. Reporting on OpenAI over the last few years, I’ve watched him schmooze with San Franciscans, chop it up with AI boosters, and hit softball questions from Jimmy Fallon. He posts to X, joins podcasts, writes blogs — it’s all part of his gig. Altman is a content creator, a CEO working to spread hype.
So it was no surprise to me that Altman gave the jury an optimistic vision for both his company and for AI itself. The shocking part was how little he did to protect his own reputation.
The softball questions for Sam Altman ran out
Wearing a dark suit, a thin purple tie, and a slightly furrowed brow, Altman was the day’s star witness. He followed OpenAI’s lawyer William Savitt through anecdotes, details, and admissions for a breezy first hour of testimony. Then, as the attorney wound down his time, Savitt asked Altman about the OpenAI Foundation’s work — the actual goals of the nonprofit at the center of all this legal trouble.
Altman was articulate, and, as usual, forward-looking. He talked about plans to research Alzheimer’s and to prepare society for economic change. He expressed hope for a better future, saying that the new tech’s benefits should spread widely. He said he was still “extremely” enthusiastic about the company’s remaining nonprofit oversight and got off a line about Musk trying to “kill” the very charity he was accusing Altman of “stealing.”
Do-gooder ideals, plus optimism about healthcare: It was a rebuttal built on Altman’s practiced style of pitching AI to the general public.
The cheery rapport stopped there.
Musk’s head lawyer, Steven Molo, then kicked off cross-examination by asking Altman whether he’s “completely trustworthy.”
“I believe so,” Altman said.
The feeling in the courtroom had palpably shifted. Molo responded with a hint of incredulity, “But you don’t know whether you’re completely trustworthy?”
“I’ll just amend my answer to yes,” Altman replied.
Under Molo’s barrage, Altman had an odd response
Attorneys usually try to strip credibility from an opponent’s witness. Molo continued peppering Altman with questions aimed at doing exactly that.
The lawyer said Altman had repeatedly been called “deceptive,” citing statements from four other witnesses: OpenAI cofounder Ilya Sutskever, former CTO Mira Murati, and former board members Helen Toner and Tasha McCauley.
Gone was the confident, loquacious CEO. Altman deflected on allegation after allegation, often stating that he hadn’t heard the testimony or didn’t know specifically what had been said.
Once, he made a larger rebuttal, saying there was “a breakdown in trust between me and the board and a difference — a big difference — of opinion.” Then he returned to saying he hadn’t heard McCauley’s testimony.
Finally, Molo asked, “Is it important to you to find out what’s going on in this trial?”
“Yes,” Altman responded. “Although I also have a very busy day job and have not been able to be here every day.”
He added that he “certainly” cares about the trial. A jury has sat for weeks, and the stakes are huge: Musk wants Altman removed as CEO and seeks $150 billion in damages. Most people I spoke with favor OpenAI to win. Still, Altman will need his credibility for the years ahead.
He stepped off the witness stand around midday, after more hammering from Molo. In the back of the courtroom, I was left thinking that the CEO could have — if only for a week — made the trial his day job.
