My expectations in coming to HBS have been exceeded and at the same time have not been fulfilled. Here’s how.
I didn’t expect to wear an 11-inch silver sequined skirt and nipple pasties to an HBS function. After the fifth time I was used to it, but I really should find some sensible shoes.
I expected analytics to be dreadful. Instead, it was an amazing head start and most of my closest friends came from the program.
I didn’t expect to only be cold-called once all year. I mean, I know I crack the case with every comment, but why are these professors so afraid of me?
I expected to freeze my ass off here, no small statement having grown up in Detroit. But the effect on global temperature from the millions of gallons of hair spray deployed by New Jersey high school girls has effectively made Boston a tropical paradise.
I didn’t expect to wake up the morning after my thirtieth birthday will
an entire loaf of bread’s worth of half-eaten grilled cheese sandwiches on the floor, in the bathtub and on the ceiling of my apartment. And will one of my “friends” tell me why was I wearing a bra?
I expected Boston to suck. It does.
I expected to starve on the Citiassist/financial aid budget. I didn’t. I only lost 22 pounds. Really.
I didn’t expect to ever read “May the golden shower of a thousand sections rain down upon thee!” in the Harbus. Bravo!
I expected to miss NYC. I do, and 9/11 made my longing far more profound.
I didn’t expect classes to be held on 9/12. I thought that sucked.
I expected there to be more than a few filthy rich snobs and elitists at HBS. I’m still looking. I hear they throw sweet parties.
I didn’t expect to read every case. I haven’t. Neither have you.
I expected liberal dropping of the “H Bomb” on undergrads and at B.U. bars. You freaks didn’t disappoint.
I didn’t expect the Spangler lounge to be such a meat market. Good
thing that my yoga classes allow me to turn my head a full 360 degrees.
I expected to use that damn HP-17c they made me buy. Fortunately the Coop has a generous return policy.
I didn’t expect that – other than the many cool guys who play IM sports and the many cool women who have hooked-up with my friends – I would not have become friends with any EC students. Can the Class of 2003 possibly be as condescending and stand-offish next year as the Class of 2002 has been this year? Just kidding.
I expected my 22 year-old roommate from Quebec to talk funny and eat cheese all the time. He does. But he’s a great roommate and a good friend, eh.
I didn’t expect anyone to drink beer in class, form a conga line in Spangler, booby-trap garbage cans, or hold charity auctions to have two women make out at Redline. Well done.
I expected more section love. Ladies, it’s not too late. 617-251-7231.
