One of the things they tell you to do at the beginning of every MBA is to talk to the people in your classes, because the biggest value of an MBA is in the connections you’ll make. I’m basically paying upwards of $5k a semester for in-person Facebook. Thanks, guys.
It’s not a problem for other MBA students, apparently, because in my first class the professor asked how many people were extroverts.Over 80% of the class raised their hands.
But the biggest problem is not that business school is a pyramid scheme. It’s that I suck at making small talk. In elevators. With my husband. With my family. With anyone. I’m terrible at responding to it. “Just think of small talk like a tennis game,” all the extroverts advise, beaming. Extroverts love people like bees love flowers. Extroverts are in books, chatting up a storm, trying to get all their five daughters married off to Mr. Bingley. Introverts write the extroverts so they don’t have to actually deal with real people.
In my MBA program, there are a couple of places to take night classes, but the one that’s most convenient for me is downtown, because it’s right next to work. Unfortunately, the entrance to Suburban Station, the train station right next to the school that I use to get home, starts to unravel quickly at night. I mean, it’s already pretty gross during the day, but nighttime brings a special glow. So, I always think about how dirty the area surrounding Temple downtown is, and why they can’t use their pull with the city to help fix it.
Conveniently, from time to time, my school sends us surveys to fill out about the quality of our experience, both in the classroom and in the facilities so that we can complain as much as possible.
I’ve always learned both at work and in school that you should never just come to someone with a problem; you should also have at least a couple possible ways to solve it. But, this is just for my MBA and everyone knows part-time MBA students are pretty tired and already 100% invested in classes, and also I have NO IDEA how to navigate the sprawling City of Philadelphia political system.
So, here you go, Temple.
Dove’s latest Real Beauty campaign has been making its way around the media and my Facebook page. In it, a police sketch artist draws women as they describe themselves, and then as other people describe them. The latter sketch is better-looking than the former, a heartwarming affirmation that we always see ourselves worse than other people see us.
I hate this campaign.
When I have homework due every week for two classes
on the same day that I also have to work late
it’s kind of hard to get the novel going because
Not to mention the millions of other little tasks that come up.
So then I try to write a short blog post instead.
The current topics swirling in my head are: WTF is going on with Russian Jews? Women in tech. Philadelphia. Places where I’m reading. Etc. But every time I try to write, I don’t have enough time.
What I really mean is that I’m reading Buzzfeed.
And I’m like, “Look at all these posts written entirely in GIFs! With hundreds of comments.”
Then I look at all the long, thoughtful posts I’ve written with 0 comments and I’m all like,
So I’ve decided from now on all my posts will be gif-oriented. To attract the people that read Buzzfeed.
Oh wait, though, I read Buzzfeed.
Rock on, dudes.