The Carlson School of Management is simply the best – the best at generating fleets of soulless, brown-nosing yuppies. And yes, that statement might include a reckless, insulting stereotype, but it is a stereotype that is tolerant, impartial and completely true without exception.
I assume many of you readers have begun typing hate e-mail. Please write, “I can’t handle ridicule” in the subject line. Thank you.
So, as I was saying, Carlson School students are the people everyone on campus loves to hate. Oh, wait. I’m thinking of members of the greek system.
Ah, well, same idea.
The Carlson School has a reputation for being the hardest school at this University to get into and the easiest to get through. All one needs to do once he or she is accepted is sit back, conform, dress in yachting attire and leave ethics far behind. Students are then trained for four years in the ways of greed, banality, materialism and superficiality.
The education fed to these business sheep will surely wean a gluttonous generation of Wal-Mart disciples. Carlson School is all about taking advantage of people through “networking” and working only toward monetary goals. The business school’s Web site proudly displays how much money its graduates make on average.
The site also declares that Carlson School uses a dress code. Students are literally required to “dress for success,” which is a euphemism for dressing haughtily, so it makes them very easy to spot around campus. The men wear khakis, Doc Martens, pastel shirts with flipped-up collars and the occasional sweater-vest. The women wear pantsuits, cashmere, chandelier earrings and carry purses worth many times more than the stuff inside them. If you’re not sure if someone is a Carlson School student, do the audio test. Carlson School people can be heard reassuring themselves, quietly chanting, “I’m awesome” or “Everyone likes me.”
I must, however, give credit where credit is due. Those in the business school are effectively exploited into fine, young business tools. Their studies emphasize communicating, ad-libbing and shaking hands like a father meeting his daughter’s prom date.
These students need to be pushed off their pedestals; to them, I say, “Get real and grow up.”
Carlson School classes aren’t just easy, they’re ridiculously easy. In fact, my friends in the business school (ex-friends) said their classes consist of viewing PowerPoint presentations and participating in easy group projects fit for high schoolers. This makes perfect sense, as people in the Carlson School seem to idolize high school freshmen. Their cell phones have contact lists that rival the Yellow Pages, they join pathetic clubs to pad their resumes and their hobbies include shopping, text-messaging and whining.
Plus, they all look like little twerps.
Unfortunately, all this is the result of the Carlson School’s crappy manufacturing process, which creates lifeless, stuck-up saps Ö saps who will make more money than I ever will.
Yeah, so I’m jealous. Damn you, College of Liberal Arts!
Mat Koehler welcomes comments at [email protected].
