You're Supposed to Work for this Man

From 1979-1981 I was very fortunate to attend the Stanford Graduate School of Business (GSB) in Palo Alto, California and receive an MBA degree in June 1981. This is a two-year very intense program, similar to programs at Harvard or Wharton. At the end of the first year all students are expected to work at a summer internship that pertains to their ultimate career interest.

To help with this, the GSB arranges for dozens of leading companies to come to the GSB from January – March, offering free “brown-bag lunch seminars” in which they discuss jobs and careers at their respective firms. The list of companies is very impressive – it includes the best of the best from Wall Street, the Fortune 500 and Sand Hill Road.

In my case, I entered the GSB without a specific career interest, so I made a point of attending as many of these brown bag lunches as possible – for I was sure that one or more would spark my interest given my native curiosity and interest in the business of business. Unfortunately just the opposite happened. The more I listened, the more depressed I became. I simply couldn’t see myself working in an already highly successful firm as a lowly cog in the wheel (albeit a likely well-paid cog). I felt like a fish out of water because it seemed that most of my classmates were salivating (if fish can salivate) at the summer job opportunities being dangled before them by these stellar firms.

One day in March of 1980, I sat, as I usually did, in the very back row of the room designated for brown bag lunches. I had not paid attention to who would be speaking that day. But I had a copy of the Stanford Daily newspaper and was preparing to eat my lunch, read the paper, and be depressed once again, with a growing concern in my gut for my future - and that of my wife and two young children. 

Our total class size was not large – only 300. As such, one came to know many of the students and to recognize all of them by sight. On this particular day, in walked a fellow who looked like the rest of us. For some reason I paid attention to what he was wearing: standard jeans, long-sleeved button down shirt, suit vest over the shirt, and down jacket vest over the suit vest. It was definitely a fashion risk – vest over vest. But instead of sitting with the rest of the students, he proceeded to the front of the room where there was a lectern and a table. And instead of standing behind the lectern, he sat on top of the table with his legs folded. And he said clearly and distinctly, “Hi, I’m Steve Jobs from Apple Computer.”

In March of 1980 very few people had ever heard of Apple Computer. I had never heard of it, and I had graduated in engineering from Stanford in 1977. Apple was still a very small company selling the Apple II computer. It was still a privately held company and would not go public until December 12, 1980.

As Steve began speaking, one of the great personal experiences of my life happened. And I attribute it to direct heavenly intervention. A thought passed through my mind that was more of a command, not of my own origin. It said, “You are supposed to work for this man.” It was undeniable in both tenor and certainty – and it was not my thought.

I was so startled, surprised and excited by this thought – for it resonated deeply within me - that I instantly cut classes that afternoon and rode my bike back to our campus apartment at 57A Escondido Village. There was no Internet in those days, so I called directory service and got a phone number for Apple Computer. I called the main number and told the switchboard operator, “A guy named Steve (I couldn’t remember his last name) who founded your company just spoke to a bunch of students here at Stanford. Can you please connect me to his office?” In a very kind voice the switchboard operator responded, “Well, there were two guys that founded this company, and they are both named Steve.” I realized immediately that my entire future on this planet hung in the balance. So I physically described “my Steve” as best I could. Without hesitation she said, “Oh, that’s Steve Jobs”. And then she connected me to Steve’s assistant Pat Sharp. 

I introduced myself and said that I wanted to work for Apple as a summer intern. She told me that they had no such program, wished me well and hung-up. But I trusted that instruction that had penetrated my head and heart, so I continued to call repeatedly for the next 3 weeks. Eventually they relented and interviewed me. And I was hired as one of Apple's first three MBA interns for the summer of 1980.