America's first reality-show president has always been engrossed with the shaping of his personal image.

In his earlier days as a big-city real estate mogul, Donald Trump relished and even facilitated tabloid coverage of his messy personal life, adhering to the notion that all press is good press.

During his time as star of "The Apprentice," he boasted of becoming a "ratings machine," and was said to have only appeared crestfallen when the program netted fewer viewers than "American Idol."

After he kick-started his improbable run for the White House, the defining trait of his candidacy quickly became his enormous crowds, which provided him validation for his cause and energy for the slog ahead.

Hurricane Harvey's Devastation View All 17 Images

No matter what phase of ultra-public life Trump has been in, he's employed the same standard to measure his success: size.

"He is obsessed with metrics, polls and data," Sam Solovey, a first-season "Apprentice" contestant, said in the 2016 book "Trump Revealed."

Now, as Trump faces the first massive natural disaster of his presidency in Hurricane Harvey , the expectations of the moment may have changed – but the man has not.

America is accustomed to presidents of both parties exhibiting tender, tear-inducing empathy in times of excruciating calamity. Recall President Barack Obama choking up while responding to the mass shooting of children in Newtown, Connecticut, or President George W. Bush offering hugs to those ravaged by Hurricane Katrina.

Trump is never going to be that figure.

When Americans voted for him, they knew they weren't getting a person who felt their pain; they simply gambled that he would be better at fixing it.

Indeed, in the eye of an actual storm, Trump has remained jarringly transfixed by the same elements that have continually occupied his attention: television news coverage, the strength and success of the mission at hand, and adulation for accomplishing it.

"We want to do it better than ever before," Trump said during a Tuesday meeting with state and federal officials in Corpus Christi, Texas. "We want to be looked at in five years, in 10 years from now, as, 'This is the way to do it.'"

President Trump, in Houston Jim WatsonAFP/Getty Images

There's been little pause for sentimentality about what's been lost or contemplation about the gravity of the responsibility at hand.

In its place, Trump has expressed theatrical awe at the scope of the storm. ("Nobody's ever seen anything like it. I've heard the words 'epic.' I've heard 'historic.' That's what it is," he's said.) He's taken note of the overnight fame of his FEMA administrator as wall-to-wall coverage of Harvey blankets the airwaves. And he's marveled at the number of people who gathered at a Texas firehouse, some of whom were evacuees and others of whom were supporters and protesters.

"What a crowd, what a turnout," he bellowed from atop a fire truck, without a word about the dead, the homeless or the emotionally devastated.

This is not to say Trump isn't cognizant of the devastation Harvey has reaped or the challenges that lie before the country in rebuilding the coastal cities of Texas and Louisiana .

But Harvey has starkly underlined that Trump is a singular character far outside the norms when it comes to presidential traditions and protocols. To judge him by the standard playbook, even in a time of great strife, is futile, because there's been no one else like him.

"These individuals who get elected to the presidency change the office by how they do the job," says Matt Schlapp, who served as a deputy assistant and political director for Bush. "He's changed the conventions, he's changed the way a president can communicate. Just like the election, he does it his way. Most people in New York and Washington decry it, but strangely enough, he has a way of connecting with Americans across the country who think he's genuine."

During his daylong trip to Texas on Tuesday, Trump accumulated the images necessary to show personal engagement. Wearing a white "USA" cap, he planted himself between members of his Cabinet and Texas officials as they updated him on actions being taken and progress being made. His hoisting of the Texas flag at the firehouse was a trademark Trump play of using a symbol to show solidarity.

On Wednesday, as the president delivered a speech pitching tax reform in Springfield, Missouri, cable news networks rolled weather radar showing the irrepressible storm still hovering over the region and played video of ongoing water rescues. Critics pointed to the disparate images as evidence of a disconnect between a president and a nation's ongoing suffering.

But on this point, Trump is arguably in a no-win situation.

He was scrutinized for not visiting the worst-hit areas, even though doing so would distract and burden law enforcement resources. If he had stayed away altogether, he would've been tarred as aloof and detached.

Presidents are expected to operate on more than one issue at a time, and delivering a speech a couple states away has little effect on the stranded seeking shelter.

"I think he hit the right balance, but it's hard for a president to win in these situations," Schlapp says.

Trump is scheduled to return to the storm-struck region Saturday for another visit that will be filled with carefully crafted optics and enduring pictures that will help define his legacy during a crisis.

In watching it all unfold from a distance, Anita McBride, also a former Bush assistant, says she's heartened to see that many of the lessons from Hurricane Katrina have been heeded in terms of rapid response, coordination between government agencies and deployment of assets.

She says Trump's visit drew necessary attention to the excellent level of communication taking place, and that it offered reassurance that the federal government is committed to the cause.

What was missing, though, was a personalized response betraying even the slightest vulnerability, which can ring more powerful than a controlled image.