If you give a McCombs student a cookie, he might have an existential crisis.
“Am I just another cookie cutter business student?” he asks himself. His peers, all dressed in the same black suits, nod in unison. He shakes the recruiter’s hand and recites his thirty second elevator pitch mantra.
As he walks past classrooms, he hears students chanting buzzwords like “innovate,” “synergy,” and “optimize.” Frameworks and three letter acronyms on the whiteboards resemble occult symbols.
In his business communication class, he is told to replace the personal logo on his resume with Times New Roman font size 12. The spacing on his memo assignment is off by a hair’s breadth, so his score drops by a full letter grade.
Later, he slumps into a chair at the atrium, loosens his tie, and inspects his untouched cookie. “We really are corporate monkeys in training, aren’t we?” he thinks.
Then, he hears a short burst of human laughter from the table behind him.
He turns around to find a huddle of entrepreneurs developing an app and curating GIFs for their Facebook page.
At the booth beside the printer, a freshman discusses the future of health care with a non-profit board member.
A team of marketers designs graphics to promote a new cold-brew coffee as they chug their tenth can of caffeinated nectar.
A pair of students flips through Dr. Suess books as they prepare to meet with their first grade reading buddies.
And out of the corner of his eye, a girl launches her own clothing line and a boy uploads his latest dance video to YouTube.
He realizes that although McCombs applies the same cookie cutter mold to all of its students, it doesn’t control the recipe. We may all speak the same language and dress the same way at times, but we strut to our own playlist and cook family recipes at the temperature of our own passions.
He trashes the stale cookie from the networking event and goes home to bake his own batch.