Lang also got him into the Hewlett-Packard Explorers Club, a group of fifteen or so students who met in the company cafeteria on Tuesday nights.
"They would get an engineer from one of the labs to come and talk about what he was working on," Jobs recalled.
"My dad would drive me there. I was in heaven. HP was a pioneer of light-emitting diodes. So we talked about what to do with them."
Because his father now worked for a laser company, that topic particularly interested him.
One night he cornered one of HP's laser engineers after a talk and got a tour of the holography lab.
But the most lasting impression came from seeing the small computers the company was developing.
"I saw my first desktop computer there. It was called the 9100A, and it was a glorified calculator but also really the first desktop computer.
It was huge, maybe forty pounds, but it was a beauty of a thing. I fell in love with it."
The kids in the Explorers Club were encouraged to do projects, and Jobs decided to build a frequency counter, which measures the number of pulses per second in an electronic signal.
He needed some parts that HP made, so he picked up the phone and called the CEO.
"Back then, people didn't have unlisted numbers.
So I looked up Bill Hewlett in Palo Alto and called him at home. And he answered and chatted with me for twenty minutes.
He got me the parts, but he also got me a job in the plant where they made frequency counters."
Jobs worked there the summer after his freshman year at Homestead High. "My dad would drive me in the morning and pick me up in the evening."
His work mainly consisted of "just putting nuts and bolts on things" on an assembly line.
There was some resentment among his fellow line workers toward the pushy kid who had talked his way in by calling the CEO.
"I remember telling one of the supervisors, 'I love this stuff, I love this stuff,' and then I asked him what he liked to do best.
And he said, 'To fuck, to fuck.'" Jobs had an easier time ingratiating himself with the engineers who worked one floor above.
"They served doughnuts and coffee every morning at ten. So I'd go upstairs and hang out with them."
Jobs liked to work. He also had a newspaper route—his father would drive him when it was raining—and during his sophomore year spent weekends and the summer as a stock clerk at a cavernous electronics store, Haltek.
It was to electronics what his father's junkyards were to auto parts: a scavenger's paradise sprawling over an entire city block with new, used, salvaged, and surplus components crammed onto warrens of shelves, dumped unsorted into bins, and piled in an outdoor yard.