You learn some very interesting lessons, when you ask a total stranger to come live in your house. The following is a personal recollection of this memory.
It all started a couple of months ago, at an MBA info session. The room was dimly lit, no windows. A panel of ex-MBA students sat at the front of the room. The five of them were answering questions on the degree program.
Sitting there, I started to question my existence, a typical Thursday night. The only difference was that this time the questions were directed. My specific train of thought went something like…
- What am I doing?
- Why am I going to MBA school?
- I hate school (Surprise)
- Why do I even want an MBA?
- Communication skills, Connections, Business Skills
- Well I have Facebook, Twitter, for the communication, maybe even connections, though that’s more of a LinkedIn, Email thing
- Business skills - I could learn through the Internet, YouTube, maybe an e-learning website.
- Plus I wouldn’t be out $80,000 (How much it costs to get an MBA) + deferred income
- Why should I pursue an MBA if I use the resources available on the internet?
Should I risk asking something so instigating? Screw it. My hand shot up in the air.
“You, in the bright blue shirt”
I asked the question.
I broke the panel.
“That’s a great question for our MBA admissions office, here’s their phone number.”
Good save, but not a good enough answer. I went home disappointed, but the free food from the session was worth it, should have gotten more of it.
Mac and Cheese it is. I aimlessly scroll through my feed as the microwave nukes my powdered cheese, water and noodles.
The name flashed pass my screen.
“That’s funny we share the same name.”
I remembered reading a blog post about happiness a year back, I’d really liked it, I think he was the guy that wrote it. Subconsciously, I opened a chat and let my fingers take control.
I took a step back and looked at what I had just done. I asked a stranger to call me on the internet, and gave him my number. Oh well, let’s see how this turns out.
A couple hours later I forget the incident, and almost jump when I hear the:
ring, ring, ring (it’s an iPhone, I’m to lazy to change the default ringtone, use your imagination)
I pick up the phone, tap the accept button.