It was never about lightbulbs.
When I was in business school, one of the classic examples of case interview preparation was the question “how would you price a lightbulb that never had to be replaced?” This question gained much notoriety partially because of its absurd premise — this ages me, I know — and also because of what it taught the interviewee: the interviewer wants to see how you think, not the answer to the question. The reason I bring this up, is because iterations of an old headline that has begun making rounds again: “Big pharma asks if curing patients is a viable business model” At that moment, I realized that it was never about lightbulbs.
I often have conversations with friends of mine about how we absolutely will not allow our children to attend business school because it was a cesspit of ambition and privilege, and we learned little that was applicable to our jobs thereafter. Regardless, it’s been a meaningful number of years since graduation, so it’s worth revisiting my initial derision. After some distance, it’s clear that it was a fun four years, and I owe my current career as well as worldview to it, but I had thought that it was an absolute waste of time. But today, would I let my child attend an undergraduate business program?
Business school was historically offered as a graduate program, and in institutions of educational standard, continue to be offered as such, or not at all. Other institutions of tertiary education reject the traditional ivory tower approach, and instead aim merely to offer training beyond secondary school. That is to say, they house many vocational programs whose emphasis is not on research and education, but rather employability. In the case of professions such as engineering or nursing, there remains a lot to be taught and learned, facts and knowledge to be disseminated. For undergraduate business programs on the other hand, what goes on in the classroom is a lot less tangible.
Business undergraduate students are shuffled through a curriculum of courses that purport to teach everything needed to succeed in the world of business. In reality, it’s a whirlwind of inapplicable knowledge from Organizational Behaviour to Marketing Strategy to Business Economics. Because the students don’t have the prerequisites to take normal economics. I remember scoring an eighty on my first finance exam, and then being curved to over a hundred because the class average was nearly a failing grade.
This was laughable to me as someone who took exclusively math and science in high school. I looked down upon bird business classes then, so why did I expect an entire program based around them to be any different? Classmates struggled to balance equations with three constants and no variables in first year accounting. I remember learning about the Black-Scholes model for pricing options in my derivatives class, and how to derive it, opposed to simple regurgitation because I wouldn’t learn anything. But even as I studied, remembered all the useless facts, and earned my grades, I saw peers who did decidedly less work and had poorer grades get club positions and internships ahead of me. Business school was never really about the school part of it. It was too late when I figured out that it was never really about Black-Scholes.
Business school is traditionally a finishing school of sorts. It’s a place where those whose career growth is limited by their supposed lack of business knowledge goes to continue climbing the corporate matter. Someone who already has an education in the sciences or arts, and industry knowledge. What use is a finishing school to those who have nothing, polishing for an uncut gem? The result of that is a bunch of kids in suits, slicked back hair, and no skills to speak of making slide decks and spreadsheets in big corporations. Oh, but these kids are slick. They know how to talk the talk and become likeable group members if not leaders. Good thing one doesn’t really need much in the way of knowledge or skills to be business analysts, just a willingness to grind out menial work and respect authority.
That’s how the undergraduate business school pipeline works: bring in the young and the eager, show them the wealth and power they can achieve, and then tell them to do monotonous tasks to prove their dedication. In the meantime, throw them all in a pack, competing for committee positions and internships. See how they deal with stress, how they get along with their peers, and how slick they can be, if they can be socially amphibious but most comfortable with other type-A moneygrubbers. These are high-paying jobs after all, and good for the glossy brochures that will entice others to follow their lead.
So that’s why I didn’t want my children to attend undergraduate business school. To be thrown to the wolves at the brink of adulthood, and spend four years not learning anything of value. All the stereotypes about undergraduate business students are true: unknowledgeable, confident, fratty, cutthroat, and money obsessed. But the ones who make it out are hardworking and smart. To be exposed to the racism, sexism, and classism of the real world in an institution where learning and meritocracy should be first and foremost. It would be nice if they learned something more than poise during their four years of college, and could pursue their passions unfettered by the constraints of the real world.
One of my favourite quotes is from John Adams, the second president of the United States: “I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. My sons ought to study mathematics and philosophy, geography, natural history, naval architecture, navigation, commerce and agriculture in order to give their children a right to study painting, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry, and porcelain.”
I wonder how disappointed he would be if he could see what America was studying today, but I digress. I went through undergraduate business school so my children didn’t have to. I was shocked out of my naivety and exposed to the larger world. It’s only because I went to undergraduate business school that I have the respect for the liberal arts and natural sciences, disciplines that exist for study alone. It’s the excess and decadence that I have to thank for my perspective on the rat race, spending, and saving. The exposure to the larger world that I have dreams of more for myself and my children.
At the end of the day, it wasn’t a bad deal, a degree, a job, and a cynical worldview. I could have learned to read or count, but instead I had I got a certain degree of perspective. Could I not have gotten a job if I had attended some other educational institution? It’s only as I’m sitting here, reflecting, that I realize that it was never about the job.
