Halfway There

I received a phone call this afternoon from Adam. "I just want you to know," he said, "that Eugenia brought her baby to class, and it just made me realize how excited I am to be a parent, and I can't wait to have this baby with you," to which, of course, the only reply I could think of was, "How drunk are you?" "Not that much," he said. That's what I thought. Last day of classes for HBSers is not all that different from last day of classes for high school seniors.

Apparently they spent their day drinking and reflecting on the past year. I have to say, the HBS reputation may be for arrogance and greed, but really, I haven't seen so much of that. Self-congratulatory is more like it. Every event is a chance to celebrate the joy that is them, with songs and speeches and loud cheers. I'll admit, I've grown fond of Adam's section, although he asked me tonight if I felt like I was part of the section and the answer is a definite "no." It's been tough going getting to know them. I remember back to the beginning of the year when 99 percent of them would give me no more than a cursory "hello" and a once-over when they realized I wasn't a student. I know that some of you out there reading this are just preparing to enter b-school and my warning to you guys would be be nice to the partners. You never know when one of them will be a blogger who will write nasty things about you.

Would I have done it again, had I the choice? Probably, but I would have come more prepared. Has it been fun? Sure. I've gotten more material from these guys this past year, and there's still the Newport Ball and all of next year to come. Am I going to keep asking myself questions? Yeah, because Adam's already passed out so there's no one else for me to have a conversation with.