ILLUSTRATION BY CHRISTINE JEGARL
Wednesday, February 27, 2019 // The Statement
3B
ILLUSTRATION BY CHRISTINE JEGARL
I
had a tough time in business school
from the get-go. It was terrifying to
walk into the Winter Garden for the
first time and pass by juniors in suits passed
out on couches or sobbing on the phone
after an exam. The relief I felt to finally
not be an undecided freshman quickly dis-
solved during my first weeks. Something
about that building and the people in it put
tremendous gut-wrenching, hopeless pres-
sure on me.
Mostly, I was terrified because I had
never felt so incompetent. As soon as I
entered the Ross School of Business, I felt
light years behind. Everyone was throw-
ing around words like “beta” and “bonds”
while I couldn’t tell you what a stock really
was. I had spent the past year pining to get
in, and now I wasn’t so sure I had made the
right decision.
Somehow, during a time when I was
questioning every life decision I’d ever
made, I found my sure calling for film. It
was a complete accident and one of those
life happenings that makes you believe in
destiny. I had been cautiously shadowing a
friend at the Ross club fair when I decided
to walk out of the event. It wasn’t a heroic
choice, but more of an embarrassing dash
because I was so overwhelmed by the term
“alternative investments” and didn’t know
what it meant to consult things. Instead, I
applied as a producer to an student orga-
nization called Filmic Productions, got
accepted, and fell in love with the creative
world. I felt euphoric for the first time since
the school year had started.
For a while, I felt like I was on the right
path. I wanted to tell stories that capture
the human experience through film. I
want to make someone exit a movie theatre
feeling a changed person, a better person.
Accounting didn’t give me the incredible
feeling that making something out of noth-
ing does. It’s so fulfilling to produce unique
ideas and channel it into art that affects
society and makes people feel understood.
So I dove into this world and gained intern-
ships in media. I was proud of my black
sheep status at Ross and was not going to
succumb to traditional career paths. I had
found my fate and I was going to keep mov-
ing forward.
Inside though, the pressure was still
mounting. My decision to go rogue felt like
I had swallowed poison. My parents and
friends were extremely supportive, but
at the end of the day, I felt like I was fall-
ing short. While everyone around me was
waking up early to make networking calls,
studying prep material for cases, running
between corporate presentations, and fol-
lowing their 5-year career plans, I was sim-
ply enjoying things and it didn’t feel right.
I, too, wanted to be exhausted and talking
numbers. Corporate sounded fancy and
felt like the pinnacle goal. I hadn’t actually
gone to business school to have fun, had I?
I’d joined for the recruiting rush, the power
suits, the perfected presentation decks and
the signing bonuses. Movies were what
people watched to relax. I yearned to be
part of the intensity.
I secretly recruited and got a finance
internship at JPMorgan. It caused an
uproar with my family and friends. They
knew I was just trying to make a point. Now
the point had been made and they wanted
me to go back to where I belonged, but I
couldn’t stop. I wanted to know what it’s
like to be among the Wall Street veterans
and early morning Upper West Side com-
muters. Films would always exist no mat-
ter what, and business school had taught
me that the opportunity to be among the
real stars — among highly successful cor-
porate moguls — would be gone in a glance.
I had to grasp it immediately before it was
too late.
You can already guess what a mistake
that was.
I fell into the trap fed to me by the cul-
ture of business school on how to formu-
late the best career. It was exciting at first,
wearing my freshly pressed suit, receiving
my badge to enter 270 Park, and clicking
my heels to the elevator that would take
me to my new team. They gave me JPM-
organ emblazoned gifts, provided a desk
with two (two!) desktops, and set me up for
coffee chats. I got to wear my JPMorgan
banker bag in the subway, talk about how
great Equinox is, and get Sweetgreen with
associates.
I was constantly reminded that I was at
a top firm and lucky to be in a team where
I would do work for Jamie Dimon himself.
“We’re the best team on the street”, they
repeated. So I filled my coffee cups and fin-
ished my Excel sheets. I printed the team
agendas and researched the daily invest-
ment news. I stayed late just to stay late and
I arrived early just to arrive early.
Then at my midpoint meeting, my man-
ager said I couldn’t listen to music at work.
I wasn’t on a team where I ever communi-
cated with others, so this confused me, but
I obliged. I sheepishly slid back to my desk
and went back to my PowerPoint. That’s
when it hit me — there was no brain activ-
ity going on.
When I wasn’t listening to the Hamilton
soundtrack or the latest Director’s Guild
podcast, my brain was completely dead.
Without the distraction, the work I was
doing at my desk was painfully mundane.
The summer felt like solitary confinement.
I sat at one seat for hours on end, doing
mind-numbing work for the higher up who
would be sending it to the next higher up,
and so on until it got lost in the vortex of
useless presentations and files.
The work wasn’t difficult but it was
awfully boring, and that I couldn’t stand.
I feared ending up like Jackie in the office
behind me, who wore the same Louboutin
heels every day and who seemed to find the
most genuine satisfaction in being able to
brag about her Columbia MBA. The sec-
onds dragged to minutes, hours and days
until finally my 10 weeks at the bank were
done and I knew I would never go back.
When you frame your life decisions with
happiness as the ultimate goal, it’s hard to
choose to do what makes you happy. In cur-
rent times, exhaustion is romanticized and
risk must always be hedged. We’re told to
suffer now and reap the benefits later after
setting ourselves up for a prolific long-term
career. Even my strategy professor once
asked the class, “It’s time to get serious.
What’s more important to you, your grades
or your friends?”
I think that the best decisions aren’t made
based off pure happiness, but what you con-
sider as the best form of payment for your
work. For some people, money is the right
currency. It’s what they may need or what
they truly want, and that’s OK. I do hope
these 25-year-olds find joy in $17 cocktails
at rooftop bars and weekend trips to the
Hamptons. For others, it’s monotony and
structured organizations and tasks. I mean,
hey, someone has to do the accounting.
My currency is time. I could feel my
time left on earth declining with every
piece of data entered in excel. I saw the
world continue without me as I stared out
the same window from which I couldn’t
move because it was admirable to not
leave your desk. Millions of people
walked through those streets while I
watched, wondering what their sto-
ries were. Sitting there, I realized my
time was depleting and nothing I did
impacted the people actually making
their way through the New York City
streets — actually living.
The film industry is notoriously
difficult and demanding. It’s hor-
rifyingly low pay and also requires
painfully long work days. It takes
a lot of grit to move up. The work
can be unstable and the culture
can be miserable. In my previous
media related internships, bosses
screamed at me, threw things at
me and berated me. If I wanted to
be happy, I probably wouldn’t choose
a career in film. If I were fragile or
wanted work-life balance, I definitely
would run the other way. But I choose
to do it because I know that the time
I put into it is valuable for working
toward a larger, more fulfilling goal.
The time I spend trying to connect
with the world and the people liv-
ing in it through this creative medi-
um we call film is so rewarding and
extraordinary to me.
When I turned my back on corporate,
people thought I was so bold. I don’t think
it’s that triumphant. My goal isn’t to be a
wild card in society, but to be pursuing
something that is so exciting, encourage
and challenging that I want to invest my
time and soul into it and do the best job.
I don’t regret going to business school or
any of the employment opportunities I’ve
taken. In fact, I’ve learned that my per-
sonality is exactly in line with business
school — high strung and a little neurotic,
but insanely efficient, professional and
obsessed with Google Calendar. At the end
of the day, it’s up to you to decide what’s
best for yourself — something this past
summer as well as the past 3 years of busi-
ness school revealed for me.
When my best friend (whom I met at
Ross, by the way) was angry with me for
recruiting in traditional corporate paths,
he slipped me a note during class that said:
Dear Meesh,
Please stop being dumb and wasting
your time. Pursue your passion and ignore
the noise.
Regards,
Nick
It was great advice and though I hadn’t
taken it, I hope someone else will. I hope
more people will start valuing their pre-
cious time. It’s the only thing we can even-
tually transform into the “happiness” we
humans always seem to be searching for.
It’s the only thing that we can never really
get back.
BY MICHELLE KIM, STATEMENT COLUMNIST
What’s your currency?