M.B.A. All-Star

Yes kids, the rumours are true. After years of brutal work, unforgiving sacrifice, and sleeping my way to the top, my three-month dream has finally been realized. Concordia’s John Molson School of Business has accepted my application and have offered me a place in their Master’s of Business Management program. Next stop: years of study culminating in a coveted degree, industry-wide recognition, maybe a tattoo or even a timeshare. The horizon is bright and the future is endless (or vice versa) and I am confident of my success.

But, as a very wise Vampire Slayer once pondered:

“Where do we go from here?”

Should I study part-time or full-time? Should I specialize in something, and if yes, then what? Should I remain at the JMSB or perhaps apply to Queen’s, York or McGill university? Perhaps even overseas? What type of grants, fellowships, bursaries and scholarships am I entitled to? Should I move out? How would I pay for it? Am I capable of sustained study of such a heavy curriculum? Am I too inexperienced for this program? Is this really what I want to do with my life?

The last question is my greatest cause for concern. I am pursuing an M.B.A. not as a determining step in a carefully constructed and well-conceived life-plan, nor because of my lust for learning about foreign fiscal policies or corporate governance, and certainly not from a desire to be part of the next generation spearheading marketing initiatives and innovations to dazzle the world while we pick their pockets. Quite simply, I view this education and eventual degree as a means to an end. It will be earned to provide me with that most elusive and sought-after right: choice.

Some time ago, I was speaking to a friend of mine who had just that day quit his cushy job (coincidentally also in Marketing). He had been working there for four years and been complaining for three and a quarter about his boss, his start time, the dress code, the salary, his colleagues, the location ad nauseam. So he saved up, made arrangements to stay with a friend of his in Vancouver, and gave his two-week notice. The day he walked out of the building for the last time, however, he lamented. “I’m an idiot!” he said. “I can’t believe I left that place! I mean, I would spend half the day reading online magazines and the rest of the time flirt with the girls from H.R. Have I made a huge mistake?” Suddenly, the albatross of salary concerns, starting time etc. had flown away, leaving nothing but a simmering regret. He was missing his friends, the no-pressure environment, the free (stolen) office supplies. There is no course as straight and smooth as the one pursued in mediocrity

“Listen,” I said. “You were miserable at that place. You saw the years ahead of you and they all looked the same. This was never a career place for you and the only reason it’s become enticing is because they demanded so little of you.” I paused, and then offered some Sanjay-worldly-wisdom, the type that upon later reflection, I always wonder where the hell it came from.

“It’s not that you weren’t happy. Nobody’s happy with their job. The trouble with this job is that it’s robbed you of choice. Every man has the right to choose where they would like to be miserable.”

And this is what an M.B.A. affords me – choice. I have my mind set on building a career around my writing. In what manner, I don’t know. Journalism was an obvious option, as is Marketing. Magazine writing, copywriting, communications – I may settle for one of these or I may have an opportunity to pursue something completely unanticipated. The point is, I want to have an
array of alternatives, a plethora of possibilities, a bevy of budding breaks. This degree may not guarantee me a loft in the sky (or with a skylight), but it won’t be a hinderance either.

Of course, the ultimate dream is to be a published author. Let it be known that nothing shall ever take precedence over this, nor shall any other goal usurp the promience of authorship. I’m just hedging my bets.

And maybe one day I’ll have an answer to Buffy’s question.