This is not gyaan.
If you’re a bottom-of-the-food-chain MBA facha like me, you know that at B-school advice is not given – it’s forced down your throat. Ironically, those that dispense counsel need it the most. There’s plenty I read about the MBA life before I came here, but nothing prepared me for the little things. Here's my attempt at infusing your life with some much needed frivolity.
First. I used to hate dogs.
Large strays would chase me around our quaint society, and they’d only get bigger in my nightmares. Once I hit my growth spurt, the fear changed to loathing. By the time I got to IIM-L, my feelings hadn’t changed much. Imagine my displeasure when I realised that I would be accosted by no less than seven dogs every time I went somewhere. My lottery winning luck refused to stop, and the breeding season led to six litters of puppies joining the mix.
On the evening of a particularly gruelling day, I was sitting near the mess when I noticed a normally rowdy puppy sauntering along the footpath towards where I was. The tiny thing was covered in dirt, and collapsed next to me. Maybe it was indifference due to exhaustion, perhaps it was buried affection or it could have been the sense of kinship I felt with it, but I stretched out my hand and petted it – the first time I ever touched a dog.
Once I began seeing it, the parallels were infinite. They too were in an environment where the best would rise, living lives governed by factors they didn’t fully understand. I didn’t think I’d be the sort of guy to stop and pet tiny dogs, but now I can’t go a day without some puppy therapy.
Second. The language.
The lingo really gets to you: and it doesn’t just influence how you speak, it influences how you think. I remember scoffing at how MBA grads had a tendency to over complicate everything. I once asked a cousin to help me pick between two shirts and he did a SWOT analysis which, while deeply fascinating, was pointless because I’d found a SpongeBob tee by then.
Like every unique snowflake who comes here, I thought I’d be different. Little did I know it was only a matter of time. The first symptom was when I started explaining to my mother why it was important for me to sleep an extra hour using Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. I should have noticed my problem when I told my dad that the scratch I put on the car was a sunk cost and we should focus on finding the best course of action. I only realised how much the disease had spread two weeks ago, during a salacious late night conversation with an undergraduate friend. Then, smack-dab in the middle of explaining why getting a girlfriend in engineering is not worth it using Porter’s five forces model, I realised I had turned into the very thing I mocked. You know what the worst part is? I’m learning new structures every day.
Finally, pizza.
Let me explain how obsessive my love for pizza is. If my life was like Aamir's in Ghajini, I'd have 'Domino's' tattooed across my chest. Darr would be a movie about me stalking a pizza delivery guy saying "Ch-Ch-Cheese Burst". The first shape I thought of when I heard Ed Sheeran's 'Shape of You' was a triangle.
Like everyone else, I've had plenty of moments where I've felt like things were careening out of control. You know who was there for me each time? Pizza. To be fair, my amazing friends helped out too, but I can't eat them, atleast not without feeling guilty. I always knew I'd need an anchor to survive, I just never realised it was there all along. Thankfully, some things never change.
There you have it. Ravings of a dysfunctional man-child or a profoundly subtle commentary on life, I hope this article helps you realise you're not the only weirdo battling the system, the misfit going about your MBA the wrong way. There are kindred spirits.
Just joking, there's no
gyaan to be found here, laugh and move on.
P.S. The fact that the title reads PPAP is completely unintentional.