For some reason, the case competition gods decided to send me down to Columbus for this, which has been an interesting experience so far. After all, voluntarily traveling to central Ohio requires either a great feat of strength or a mind bordering on insanity. Anyway, while traipsing about the internets in my (admittedly posh and roomy) hotel room, I browsed through my fellow blogger’s recent posts and stumbled on maybeMBA’s farewell post.
In the past three years (well, two.five, but I round ‘er up), I’ve really been blessed to blog alongside a community of very insightful, committed, passionate, and accomplished individuals in the midst of pursuing — or pursuing the opportunity to pursue — an MBA. But I think I identify with my friend there at Booth for a couple of reasons: first, she’s a fellow pac-northwesterner; and second, she ain’t afraid to tell it like it is. And how coincidental that I came across her post not long after a three-hour drive to Ohio with my teammates, two of whom are international students and clearly more frustrated with their experience at Ross than I’m willing to admit — or even acknowledge.
Who knows; maybe I’m a person who rarely raises a stink about the things eating me: I’ve taken my fair share of lumps in life, and certainly there’s been moments in which my experience at Ross has driven me to the point of exasperation, either against the administration or my fellow students. But I’ve never found the appropriate medium for which to make my points clear. And at this point, it seems only honorable to ensure that I bring my viewpoints across as maybeMBA did with gusto, charm, and conviction. Obviously, to be squelched means you’re doing something wrong in the eyes of some, but right in the hearts of many.
Over the next few weeks, time permitting, I’m going to do my best to convey some of my least favorite parts about Ross, and I do so with a bit of trepidation: this has been my home for two years, and I will forever be loyal to the university and the values with which it upholds. But no person should attempt to con themselves into thinking that business school is a 24-month glimpse of Paradise. I’ll be willing to smack you with a Fruit Roll-up, quickly, if you carry that sort of jibba jabba around in my house.
So, wait for some juicy details. It may get interesting.