Huge congratulations are due for Mr. P, who was just accepted into the part-time MBA program at the large university where he works. It’s a triumphant ending to an arduous process that began over 6 months, when Mr. P told me, “I’m thinking about applying to the part-time MBA program,” and I replied, “Why the hell would you want to get an MBA?”
But it’s done, and I’ve been more than supportive. After the GMATs, the essays, and the Kafta-esque process of attaining transcripts from a French university, Mr. P received his acceptance letter in the form of a USPS Priority Mail box. (No need to play the time-hollowed “thick or thin” guessing game with this envelope…)
The acceptance letter was tucked in a classy black leather portfolio. It just screamed “future Master of the Universe.”
Now that Mr. P has been accepted, he is trying to decide if he actually wants to go. After all, compared to the typical MBA applicant, he’s older, geekier, and more married, so the prospect of sinking the bulk of his free time into a degree that’s not guaranteed to pay off in the future isn’t entirely appealing. Like I said in the beginning, “Why the hell would you want to get an MBA?” Because he can, I guess.
