On Wednesday I sensed something coming to get me. My body was slamming on the brakes, but the anti-lock was off and I was headed somewhere nasty…fast. So instead of pausing to listen, I forged on ahead. I went and frustrated myself on my ‘cross bike. I studied hard. I jacked around on the piano in the Darden forum and tried to remember Jessica’s Theme.
So my body made me listen. That night I was visited by a heinous fever, and spent a lot of time sweating and whining about how cold I was without solving the problem by simply pulling a blanket over myself.
I walked into Marketing class looking like a zombie, and the fun compounded when I was Cold Called. For the uninitiated, it’s a Darden tradition. Watch out! The prof asks you, right off the bat, to give your recommendation on the day’s case. Now, remind you, that this is the reason we are here: we are not yet experts nor are we CEOs. We’re learning how. And a Cold Call is a way to hit the FF button. I flailed during my Cold Call. Mightily, I might add. I was already feverish, but I think I sweated a bit more on account of it. In the end, the prof took the conversation in another direction and I was out of the hot seat after 10 awkward minutes. Thankfully I’ve spent many years humiliating myself on my bicycle so my pride was used to the sting.
I suffered through Operations, and Sven was nice enough to drive me home. I then spent the hours from noon to midnight dozing on the couch. I took a break from sleep with a foiled attempt at watching The Fast & The Furious (if you have ovaries, you will like Paul Walker). Guess the lappytoppy doesn’t have “a valid DVD decoder”. I wasn’t about to call HP again, so I fell back into dreamland.
So my body made me listen. That night I was visited by a heinous fever, and spent a lot of time sweating and whining about how cold I was without solving the problem by simply pulling a blanket over myself.
I walked into Marketing class looking like a zombie, and the fun compounded when I was Cold Called. For the uninitiated, it’s a Darden tradition. Watch out! The prof asks you, right off the bat, to give your recommendation on the day’s case. Now, remind you, that this is the reason we are here: we are not yet experts nor are we CEOs. We’re learning how. And a Cold Call is a way to hit the FF button. I flailed during my Cold Call. Mightily, I might add. I was already feverish, but I think I sweated a bit more on account of it. In the end, the prof took the conversation in another direction and I was out of the hot seat after 10 awkward minutes. Thankfully I’ve spent many years humiliating myself on my bicycle so my pride was used to the sting.
I suffered through Operations, and Sven was nice enough to drive me home. I then spent the hours from noon to midnight dozing on the couch. I took a break from sleep with a foiled attempt at watching The Fast & The Furious (if you have ovaries, you will like Paul Walker). Guess the lappytoppy doesn’t have “a valid DVD decoder”. I wasn’t about to call HP again, so I fell back into dreamland.
He’s not as hot as Sven, but he’ll do on the silver screen.
I dragged myself up the stairs after midnight, and slept until 8 a.m. I’m doing the math: in the last 36 hours, I was awake for maybe 10 of them. Wow. Guess I needed that. The life of an MBA student isn’t as glamorous as a pro cyclist, I’m afraid. Less spandex, more studying, and forced sleeping. But some of this…
A replay of last weekend. Left to right: moi. Brett, AKA the guy who challenges the B-Skool dresscode on a daily basis. Brendan, part of my Learning Team and the awesomest UNC grad ever. Christine, a fellow Californian-by-birth who is wicked hot. Noah; a good buddy of one of the sweetest boys in the pro peloton, Michael Cody.
1 comment:
is that axel rose keeping you from falling sideways? the hat thing - what the eff is up with all these frat boys co-opting compton atmo?????
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