Do you have it in you?
The go-getter with fire in the belly?
The dynamic, dashing, resourceful, ambitious, one and only, “The Project Manager – Aerospace”!
When you walked starry eyed, through the hallowed portals with a suitcase in your hands, did you already forget?
Did reality slap you into what you thought was being “pragmatic”? Or did you just conveniently shove it under the carpet of your self-defined sense of rationality?
That small bubble you created, losing yourself in a mocked up maze of well-dressed suits, intelligent gibberish, and esoteric phrases that you conveniently thought was the real deal.
All hidden in the garb of passionately written paraphrases and forgotten away neatly in a folder. A state of denial. Comatose.
Did you try to peel through this maze ever? Take a deep, hard look at yourself in the mirror beyond checking if the shave you just had was smooth? Or if the jeans was fitting you properly? Did you ever stop and ask yourself, why? Did you ever pause? And ask yourself the one nagging question that people journey through their lives trying to answer?
Or did you just brush your hair aside, check the tuck of your t-shirt and walk back into the maze?
I bet you did just that. If you didn’t, you must have been asleep.
A portion of your life, albeit a small one, spent running through silent corridors, into well-lit amphitheaters, caffeine induced sleepless nights, 15 minute power naps, sleeping through inane presentations, debating and discussing like you were the intelligent, final word and the occasionally frequent moments of insobriety. Or sanity, if you will. Words which serve as the backbone of businesses. You used them as punchlines. As dinner time jokes to show how “uber cool” you are. And how stupid they were.
You fought hard to look like you did not care. You fought hard to sound intelligent. You rested your self-worth on laurels won before and sought approval. You loved talking and laughing about people on moonless rooftop nights. Drunk as you were. And you loved being cynical. As if that was the latest fad. You ploughed through countless sheaves of paper and books, solving problems. You learned by rote. You learned by force. You suffered the ignominy of an imbalanced sheet. Then “bounced” back from it by posting it on Facebook. With a smiley. And then strutted around with a bloated sense of self-importance when you saw you were just five marks, and thirty comments better.
You learned by rote. And forgot just as easy.
Decimal numbers became a matter of pride. Or shame. You cared. You feared. You ignored. But you did not pause to revisit that paragraph where you had written why you wanted to be here. You went with the flow. Like you were plugged in. You pushed for every decimal point. You laughed at every decimal point. You sounded blase about it like you never cared. You kept quiet about it like it was your own little secret. But you never ceased to fight it.
And then epiphany struck. Natural numbers and nattily dressed suits. The next program in the matrix was loaded. Being basic was passe. Talking big was the norm. You forgot to look in the mirror. Except to check for the crease on your suit. And you fought hard for those numbers. Ironically, every additional zero seemed to keep you afloat. And you did not bother to see that you were riding on a balloon. All it needed was just a little pin prick. You rode high and floated above all. You had a smile on your face. And you forgot why you were here.
You became Jack’s bloated sense of conceit.
You never stopped to question. You never stopped to ask.
What do you really want?
You conveniently forgot. Like a piece of crumpled paper. And drowned it in the sweet taste of sin that very night.
You’re the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
P.S : Last few lines are Tyler Durden’s. I might just be a paranoid schizophrenic.
Disclaimer: Slightly longish. Read if you are bored. Read if you are not bored. You should care about who Tyler Durden and Jack are. At the least, get to know about them. Google or Wikipedia. Happy reading.
This is your laptop. And it is ending every minute. I am Jack’s virus in my system. Need to do something about this. PCTools? Kaspersky? Iobit Security? Will buy a new one when I join work. What kind of laptop defines me as a person? A really cool, gaming laptop? Sony Vaio – the professional types? Windows 7 with a Debian Linux – double boot? He was right. We are by-products of a lifestyle obsession. It’s all going down.
Legs start to shake. Involuntarily. As if to wake me up. Alright.
Windows Outlook, Mozilla Firefox. And? Ah, a computer scan as well.
Which one? Intelliscan, Deep Scan or Custom Scan. Hmm. Let me see. While I think about it, Turbo Boost On with Advanced System Care. Ha! Good. Reading Technology section of ET in the loo has its benefits.
Ok. Deep Scan it is.
Forgot. DC++ as well. Peer-to-peer movie downloading software. Leeches and seeders. Peer networking. Read it on B-school websites, right? Well, this is the actual stuff. Look for Mephisto, Burra. Damn, they are offline. Will download later. Close.
Windows Outlook 2010 loading up. Loading Add-ins 1-8. What the hell are these add-ins? I don’t ever use them.
Mozilla Firefox up. Facebook loaded. Gmail loaded. What else? LinkedIn loaded.
Windows Outlook 2010 loading up. Loading Add-ins 1-8.
Check Gmail Inbox.
Facebook. Forgot! No messages. No wall posts. Check “what’s on others minds”.
“Some lives are connected by the vast expanses of time and space and they will be embalmed in the callings of the ancient where the echoes of the ticking of a clock will reverberate throughout the ages…”
“I know my heart yearnssssssss for youuuuuuuuu. I am waiting my dearrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!”
Ugh! I think I just got a dose of diabetes. And sugar as well. I am Jack’s asinine Facebook update. Is that what they call Keyboard Stutter? Next.
“All Indians – dys is a must watch. Or else what! Next.
Ok. Gmail check again. Refresh…………………..Refresh again. Spam (3). Check Spam.
Okay. Delete Spam.
Windows Outlook 2010 loading up. Loading Add-ins 2-8.
Check Facebook again. Refresh, refresh. Nothing. Zilch.
Now what? My head again. A steady high pitch drone around me. Drowning every other silence. Numbing the senses. Numbing the mind. Comfortably. I know my eyes are open but my mind’s steadily drowning itself. In its own nothingness.
Blue sky. The vast expanse. A crow flies by. Alights on the window grill and cocks its head inside. Eyes lock for a brief moment. Recognition? Mockery? It looks away with a measured, dismissive nonchalance. Then flies off. My eyes rest on the grill. I know I am alive because I can sense my chest heaving. Slightly. The drone starts to fade away. Not too high. Not too low. Just there…………………legs start to shake again. Involuntarily.
And then a shrill harmonic interruption. Ground Zero.
Is there a class today? Don’t know man. I don’t think I’ll attend. Just the one anyways.
The sunlight beams on to my face. I look up with a glint in the eye. Something starts to hum in the head. Sunshine, on my shoulders, makes me happy. I am Jack’s irrelevant song in my head.
Windows Outlook 2010 loading up. Loading Add-ins 6-8.
Damn you Windows! Mozilla Thunderbird was much better. I had themes. I had colors. AND I was seen as different. Geeky. Cool. Good times.
Anyways. I always had a short shelf life for things that interested me. They called it a paradox.
Wow! Now that is a beauty. An original thought. Very Jack-Nicholson-in-The-Departed types. I think I should post that on Facebook. Oh yeah, can post it on Twitter. I have a Twitter to Facebook integration. Face beaming in self-pride and gloating. Who are “they”, by the way? Never mind.
1:00 PM. Yep. Lunch. Not much. Just a little to take care of the growing girth. Strange. Never heard of anyone putting on weight in a hostel! Well, it is not the food i guess.
Windows Outlook 2010 loading up. Loading Add-ins 8-8. Opening.……………………………………………………………………
No emails. Yeah. That figures.
2:30 PM. Yep. Sleep till 5:00 PM. Tea, snacks. Placement talk. Crap talk. MBA talk. Look bored.
What am I really doing? With my life, i.e. An earth-bound misfit. It is like a world I created and entered by chance. Not choice. Lost opportunities. Stumbled upon some. Misguided decisions. Half measures. Lost love. Cliched life.
Oh hell! Do not open that door.
Walk back to room. I need to blog. I am good at it. I think I can become a writer. I am good at photography too. I have so many likes on my Facebook album. I mean. That must count for something, right? I think I can become a journalist maybe. Yeah. I like traveling too. Yeah. It all fits in. This is more me.
That is what the good-looking lady in pants told me too. And all good-looking ladies in pants are right. Even if they are wrong, it is a question of choosing more of the wrong that is right. Right?
Well. That can go up on Facebook too. I mean, Twitter.
Reality Check. Please.
Just because some good people read your crap and say it is good, doesn’t mean you apply to Asian School of Journalism. Or dream about being Chetan Bhagat. With a good-looking wife. Well, good-looking wife, I can dream about. That is alright. A good-looking wife in pants. Yeah! I am Jack’s …. Ok Forget it.
And Facebook? Well, if the “Like” button were not there, you would be a nobody. So, rest it.
Alright. Back to the room.
A movie? “Whose Line is it Anyway”? A novel? D:/Term IV? Pending assignments? Look at shelf of books. Look at D:/Term IV/Project Management. Assuage guilt for a while.
“Whose Line is it Anyway” it is! Yay! I am Jack’s irreverent memory.
9:00 PM – Dinner. Placement talk. Crap talk. MBA talk. Look bored. Come back. Finish the rest of Season 2, Whose Line is it Anyway. It’s getting over man. Damn!
11:00 PM. Sleep. Wake up for a jog at 5. Wake up for a jog at 5. Wake up for a jog at. Wake up for a.Wake up fo. Wake up. Wake. Wa…
8:00 AM. Bright and sunny. Sun streaming through. Yet again. Damn! Ok. Get up. Breakfast will get over.
Boot laptop. Stare at it for 2 minutes. Sometimes 3. Till it cranks up. Unwilling. Unwitting. Like the “old hag” syndrome. Myriad “Tyler Durden-ish” thoughts…………………………………………………………………………………
The Chronicles of Boredom. Continues. Pretty much the same.
I am Jack’s bored blog. What’s that smell?
Dekha hai pehli baar man in the box
where were you roobaroo
And so the tone was set for the first leg of our Manila trip as part of the International immersion module for our batch. A motley crew of around 40, after battling it out for over two weeks with a barrage of classes, quizzes, night outs, and even the guilt of nonchalance, was all set to let their hair down on our first leg from Jamshedpur to Kolkata Airport, en route to the pristine beaches of Manila and AIM. Half of this crew was the “Taiwanese” junta, who were going to Fujen University, Taiwan.
By the way, they lovingly call themselves “Taiwan ke haiwan”. Very cliched and tacky no? Of course, we were not to be left behind in the tackiness game and our punchline has been “Manila mein raslila”. There are other versions too.
Nice no? Ok, the last three were my inventions, but am sure they are infinitely better than the raslila thingy!! Hmpff!
So, back to the trip. It all started with a voting system that happened in the 1st term where we had to put in our choices for the country and university we wanted to go to. In fact, a big takeaway from the perspective of management education, per se, has been the capability with which we, as techno-managers are able to think outside the box, manage conflicts within disparate groups, get in best of the breed solutions without creating dissonance and ultimately norm ourselves towards a consensus, getting a buy in from all parties concerned.
To cut a long story short. Google polls. I probably have not participated in as many polls as I have after coming to do an MBA. Consensus building, they say.
Note the sarcastic take on management jargon? Eh? Time for a pause with a gloating smile here, pliss.
By the way, me thinks there is too much sarcasm for MBA education in my posts. Do you think so too? I think I need to do a poll on this. Hmmm.
Anyways, as I was saying. We had a poll on which universities we wanted. Now, “want” is an overestimated word in here. Some got the university and place of their choice. Some got the place and not the university. Some got the university and not the place. Some got tired of this and opted out of this choosing to go back home. And some just did not care. The last segment (Jargon alert!) would have gone to TIM, for all they cared, if it was close to their hometowns. Or better, if there was a virtual International Immersion Module!
TIM – Timbuctoo Institute of Management. Flagship Program is their 1-month International EGMBA where the focus is on Timbuctoo’s burgeoning tourism industry which has grown by leaps and bounds just because everyone goes to this place when you do not have anywhere else to go. Good program, I must say.
Anyways, so finally the score looked something like this :
6 universities, 4 Countries, ~ 115 casualties, and 23 of them to Manila (Asia Institute of Management, Makati City).
I am one of the 23. Hence the title of the post. If you didn’t get it by now, you probably went to one of the other three places. Or just do not get what “play on words” is. Or you do not visit my blog often. Or you are an MBA with no sense of humor (sarcasm alert!!).
Anyways, a few emails later, a poll on who would be the team leader and a lot of emails hence on how to get ourselves transported to Kolkata without getting our asses kicked by the Maoist fellas, a bus was booked. And nope. No redbus, no yaatra.com and none of those “<dash><your><mine><his><and what not>trip” websites catering to provide buses between Jamshedpur and kolkata. It is the good ol’ “call up the travels, haggle on the price and book a bus” MO that works here. Hence, post a lot of debate on whether we should take a volvo or not, we ended up with a non-volvo.
That’s ’cause he did not have a volvo. He had a “Pahari Maa”. The name of the luxury bus, i.e.
And that is how, we ended up with a mish mash of the “tones” I mentioned earlier.
By the way, that was an indication of how I was listening to songs that were playing in the iPod shuffle I was using and the music system in the bus. And believe it or not, there was this mish mash through out. Except when we stopped the bus to pee.
So, post a not-so-eventful bus trip we reached the Kolkata Airport well within time for check-in. After a not-so-eventful wait for the flight and a not-so-eventful boarding (of course, discounting the pretty Singapore Airlines hostesses) at 11:30 PM, we and the flight were set for the long trip to Manila. Again, except some nice turbulence, 2 really nice scotch-on-the-rocks for me, and 3 really nice conversations with a pretty air-hostess that seemed to last for hours (she came quite a few times to my seat actually, asking me if I had the belt on, if I needed a drink, and if I wanted some food…ah. The caring) , the not-so-eventful flight reached Singapore at an ungodly hour of around 3:30 AM. I think it was pretty much of a “walk in a hangover” for me, as I do not remember much of what I saw loitering around in the airport. Also, I think I am was am was in love with the air hostess. What was her name, dammit?
A not-so-eventful 4 , 3 hour wait later, the sleepy 23 boarded the Singapore Airlines flight to Manila. With a new set of prettier air hostesses waiting for me us. This time I had to sleep. I mean, on my seat. Alone, i.e. Ahem. Remember I was sleepy?
Ok. It’s over
And 3 hours later, we reached Manila. Philippines. Where else? A not-so-eventful 5 wait later, we met our AIM representatives, Frenzy and Chick. No, he was not in a frenzy. And she is very nice.
A nice cup of hot tea, some Filipino biscuits, a quick tour of the institute by “Frick”, a hot, warm bath, an orientation to the 3 weeks of stay on what we would be doing, and with Juan on our heels, we were all set to immerse ourselves internationally in Manila!
P.S : As a first step to that, we got a crate of you-know-what. Just to immerse ourselves.
P.P.S : I have read Law. I will not be thrown out if I do not mention you-know-what….I guess?
I am thinking I’ll turn it into a brand. Of the top of my head, it could be the next BIG thing on TED. I could probably make educational videos of all the wisdom and knowledge I have been doling out and make money out of it. Or I could hold talks ; I could write books; I could make business models out of it. Probably give it a fancy name too – “The Risky Forces” model or something. And then I could sell it to management schools! Phew! My head is spinning with excitement!
Yeah, I know you are confused. It is alright. Most people who come to this blog are one of those. And the ones who come repeatedly are, well, more confused.
I am referring to the Whatitees Guide series. I call it the series, because this is the second of the lot. The first one was about how you have 17 simple ways to get a date. If you have read that, chances are you probably are not coming back to this blog. But since I am on the way to becoming an MBA, and I have studied marketing, I know that the customer is a moron. And hence, I am counting on you coming back to this blog. There. I think I lost another one of my readership. Sigh. Nobody takes a joke seriously these days!
So, continuing with the “Whatitees Guide” series, I will be taking a wild leap into the dark and dinghy world of the B-school and it’s inhabitants. Yes, the B-schoolers. The “overhyped-doesnt-know-jackass-but-can-talk-crap-and-thinks-he-deserves-the-fat-pay” types. Yes, your average Joe who cracks an entrance exam, impresses the hell out of the interview panel with phrases such as ” leveraging domain knowledge”, “create value to society” and “peer learning”, gets an admit and then finally switches over to consulting because that’s the in-thing to do!
Alright. You get the drift.
But I think I run the risk of trivializing the conundrum that is the MBA. And hence, the B-schooler. I guess it is not that simple. And in the transition from the Average Joe (Read: A 2-bit technical/sales guy) to the Above-Average Joe (Read: A costly technical/sales guy, a.k.a, 20 lakhs P.A paycheck), Joe transcends through several forms of the B-schooler. And you do not need to read through countless volumes of HBR articles on human behavior to see these forms. They are right in front of your eyes – in the classroom!
I submit to you – The Whatitees guide to the Anatomy of a B-schooler!
From the eyes of another B-schooler, who runs the risk of falling in one of these categories very soon!
THE ROCK BANDS – They are everywhere. In every break of the game, inside the classroom, outside of it, in the canteen and even when you are drunk! They hunt their preys mostly alone, and many of them actually hunt on each other without knowing that they are of the same ilk. And then snigger about them on their backside! But they are the rock bands; the one’s who give you the highs and lows of being in a classroom! Here’s a smattering –
They are also known as the “Disclaimers Gang”. Usually, their questions or comments start with phrases such as ” Sir, I am not quite sure I have understood fully, but just to avoid any conflict or debate on this issue, in my humble opinion…”…..get on with the question, dude! Zzzzzzzz!
They are the cool dudes! The one’s who use long sentences, and cool words/phrases such as “perspective”, “paradigm change” and “core competencies” anywhere and everywhere! Just like that. Sometimes they are full of wisdom and at other times, full of s**t. But they dole out either with equal gusto and passion!
The Last Minuters
These are the rock stars. Who care a rat’s ass what the professor just said, about the class being over and that he would discuss the Porter’s Model in the next session. They just need to get that bug (Read : The question) out of their backsides which more often than not, becomes a bug in the backsides of the rest of the classroom too.
THE STARS – They are everywhere too. But they are implicit. They are subtle. You would easily mistake them for a common B-schooler. But you’d be terribly mistaken. They are the backbone of the Rock Bands. You know that ” You look good, so we look good” phrase right? Yeah, without the Stars we cannot have the Rock Bands!
He is the quintessential B-schooler. You’d probably be thrown off-track by the Malayali surname, but he is the Clint Eastwood of the classroom – Kozhikode, Kovalam and 2 smoking Coconuts! Et al.
The “shoot first, think later” guy who considers asking questions as a major ingredient in deriving the ROI he so diligently calculated while applying for an MBA. He probably has never heard the phrase “an intelligent question” and thinks it is a non-existent entity. He is the one who raises his hands to ask a question first thing in the class, when the professor says a “good morning”! Or so you think. Maybe he had his hand raised all the time. And he just does not know that. And neither did you!
Koschan “Allota” Nair
A close relative of Mr.Koschan Nayar. Some might say a brother. A close one at that. He is also known as “Allota”. It is not a reference to any accessories he might be carrying for his early morning ablutions. But you’d know why he is called “Allota” if you saw him in class.
He is the “shoot first, keep shooting, will think later if I get the time” kind of a guy who considers questions as THE ROI he had calculated earlier! “Follow up” is second nature to him. His alter ego. Or maybe the schizophrenic dual personality the interview panel never had the time to identify because they were busy answering his questions!
He is the dude. He comes out with amazing phrases such as “repeatability and reproducibility of strategy”, worthy of being published in a paper and maybe being quoted by the professor in another class! He does not flinch from coming out with his own trademark “insights” and very often runs the risk of overrunning all the band members of “The Insighters”. He is the next MBA Guru (after you-know-who), the hardcore Financial wiz, and the Strategist – all rolled into one potent combination!
Claus Partha Seshan
As the name suggests, he is probably of Indo-German origin. With a distinct South Indian touch I might add. As a South Indian, I can say this with adequate amount of confidence, that we, by dint of not finishing our lunch/dinner without curd rice, are quite inquisitive by nature. We get our curious genes from there. And if curd or curd rice is not available, rest assured, you shall be riddled with doubts, questions and comments of an incessant nature!
“Aavtar” Claus Partha Seshan
He is a close Indian relative to Claus Partha Seshan. For some curious and yet obvious reason, his middle name is actually the first. He of course does not bother about curd rice for lunch. All he wants to do is catch up with the professor when he wishes to have a quiet smoke and a tea by the tree, and talk to him about why Accounting cannot be neither art nor science. He is the evolved avtar of his mellowed down brother.
Well, I guess I have pretty much summed up the B-schooler. It is really amazing how this anatomy has not seen any change over the years. Even when my brother did his MBA from another premier B-school, he had similar characters there as well. And 10 years down, we see the lineage being carried over generations.
However, on a more serious note, these are also the stars who come out with the most innovative and insightful solutions to the most difficult problems. And that is an ode to the quirkiness that they demonstrate. It is what makes them unique. And hence a part of the elite B-schools they are in.
In some circles here, I am already a part of “The Disclaimers” band and let me justify that by saying that all the characters above are totally real with fictitious names. Most of them are good friends of mine and amazing personalities. A few of the lines and instances quoted are real, and much more than that, funny as hell! However, this was intended to be as part of my efforts to try and tickle the funny bone. And I would expect and hope the reader to have one. More so, if the reader happens to be one of the above!
P.S : While all my efforts in the last few lines above have been to make some amends, however, I get the distinct feeling, at 1:54 AM in the night that I would be questioned severly by Mr. Koschan Nair tomorrow!
Why did they have Salsa and not a Kuchipudi or a Bharatnatyam dance event?
No, contrary to what you might think, Google does not have the answer. Neither does Yahoo! Search, or Bing or Ask Jeeves. But this has to be one of the most insightful questions / thoughts I have came across so far in my XLRI stint.
And where else could it have occurred except during one of our nightly jaunts to Bishu-Da’s “Tea-coffee-nimbu paani-gobi/anda/aalu paratha-general bakar” joint. Yep. You have general bakar as well to consume. That is free of cost, of course. We also call it Consulting, once in a while. By we, I mean the MBA types – the groggy eyed, laptop carrying, jeans and T-shirt clad “cool dood” who can talk about Indo-China Economic relations with as much ease as he would talk about why girlfriends behave the way they do.
Ever heard the phrase “Ignorance is bliss” ?
Of course, the same applies to the groggy-eyed-with-mascara (?)and-eye-liner, Jeans and T-shirt clad “cool doodettes” as well. But then when they talk about why boyfriends behave the way they do, well, they are usually right. Yeah! The phrase applies here as well.
Anyways, so we had just returned from the library after a grueling 2 hour session of
Well, I still do not know why we did the last bit, but suffice it to say that they are the “occupational hazards” of doing an MBA. Once we were done with all this, we found ourselves naturally walking over to Bishu-da for a cuppa tea and some more of the above.
And naturally again, there we see some pretty looking ladies and some pretty, good looking, well-dressed guys all gathered around, obviously for some kind of a party. Which is when we realized it was Salsa night for the 2-year MBA crowd. We, the 1-year MBA junta were also invited. But I guess when we have people doing the tango everyday with their wives, a few others nursing broken backs and aching legs, and the rest reeling under the effects of quizzes-assignments-projects induced insomnia, Salsa does not figure too high on the to-do list.
However, a little birdie did tell us that some dance enthusiasts from our batch took part in the same Salsa event on an earlier occasion. I know it is sightly unbelievable, but you should have come to GMP’s first party of the academic year – Amnesia. Although a lot of us were doing the Big B/Nakka Mukka/Dhagala lagli version of the Salsa, but the talent was evident.
Speaking of talent, can you imagine of a better event than mad-ads to let out that constipation occurring in that top story of yours’, time and again?I cannot, and I’ve been taking therapy!
If you want to check out an original brain fart, you can enjoy it here. Three of us took part in an Ad event conducted by the MAXI, called LegaliZe.
Do not ask me why they had a ‘Z’ in the name and not a ‘z’. You can come up with a brain fart of yours’ and not let me know.
Anyways, here goes – the first Ad I took part in – creating a surrogate advertisement for “Guns”.
Must say – it stinks, but it was the best feeling ever! I do have Eno, if you need one!
P.S : Credit needs to go where it is due. Also, another way to say – the question was not mine. So, do not kill me. Hence, the P.S is in Bold – Italics! It was asked by one of my good friends who is a batch mate here at XLRI.
For all those MBA aspirants, this is reality. Stark. Naked. Stripped down completely. The one where you take the red pill (remember The Matrix?). This is no Wonderland and Alice would be as lost here. All you can do is chat up with Alice and hope your picture looks a shade better. But, by the looks of it so far, I’d be willing to place my expected MBA degree on bet!
Ok, you get the picture – literally and figuratively. And now the thousand words as well.
Ever felt the real power of a “power nap” – where all you do is close your eyes and let the world around you subsume you in a beautiful, warm darkness? Darkness as black as can be, and you just float around – only, you do not know you are floating. Darkness so endearing, it’d be a crime to come out of it. Darkness so seductive, you’d wish to lose control to. Darkness so romantic, it could almost be poetic.
B-school life has just begun. And I can already see some changes. I talk more. I listen even more. I cannot sleep. I have started seeing things in a different light, which in MBASpeak is termed as “perspective”. But then lack of sleep can also make you do that. “Time management” suddenly takes on a new meaning. More so when every faculty member throws that phrase at you in almost every class! Balance sheets have created a new kind of an imbalance, where your sole purpose in life for those few minutes is to “crunch and match numbers”. For most part, it’s your head in the midst of all that crunching, but when you end up being saved by the best Finance faculty in the country, with the occasional Bengali humor, you feel that you are still alive after the deluge of debit and credit you go under.
You take to words such as “global perspective”, “perception”, “opportunity cost” and “ROI” as easily as a fish would take to water – most of the times, though, they are used anywhere and everywhere. Whenever you want to sound intelligent. Or dumb. Or you just want to use them. As the case maybe.
Night outs with case studies, assignments and intoxicants, once in a while. Frustrated looks during quizzes, and nonchalance after they are over. Tea and parathas at 1 in the night, while discussing business, binomials, branding and babes – in no particular order. Clubs, committees and forums. Glib talk, desi talk, fundebaaji and more!
In short, life is FUBAR. And a lot of fun!
Occasionally, in your private time (the loo, i.e), you see glimpses of your past life when it was much simpler.
If your wife or girlfriend uttered the word marketing, it usually meant shopping, isn’t it? Or at the very least, a walk to the friendly neighborhood, “Bablu Grocary and Genral Itims”. A quick chat about the vegetable prices, Dhoni’s wedding and you get back with the newspaper in your hand – usually as a supplement for Bablu’s snippets!
But now you run graver risks with your newly attained MBA knowledge of what marketing stands for – A cold-eyed stare, and probably no food for having created a mess such as this…
That’s the MBA pictionary for you. In short.
Was that thousand words?