3 posts tagged “career”
“So Max, what brings you to FroggyMart?” asks Felix.
“I want to learn China. I want to learn business,” I reply.
I gave a similar answer once in a tech interview. The interviewer showered praise upon my shoulders. How unpretentious! Way to cut straight to the core of what it means to be a young professional!
“Is that all?” Felix shot back.
Shit.
“Learning, learning, everybody just wants to learn. What about achievement?! Don’t you want to get anything done?”
You just can’t catch a break. I backpedal furiously.
Actually, you know what? If I wanted to achieve, I would have stayed in tech. I would have worked for an English speaking company. I wouldn’t have thrown away tens of thousands of dollars a year on opportunity cost. In fact, I’m not here to achieve. Not yet. I’m here to dive into the business world and crack open every oyster until I discover passion. Then I’m going to cash that pearl in for an entire lifetime of achievement.
Nertz to anyone who says different.
I’ve decided to take the job offer from FroggyMart.
Working at MoogleTech has been the comfiest stint of my life. I’m surrounded by good friends. I work great hours. The work is intellectually challenging. I get to indulge my artistic side when we hit interface design.
Most importantly, thanks to MoogleTech, I can deliver a concrete, tangible good for end users to enjoy. I am no longer a smartypants useful only for analyzing ethereal things. The builders of the world have always been my heroes. That’s why I went against the grain Senior year and promised myself that I would ignore the Ivy Canon: law school, med school, grad school, i-banking, consulting. I wanted hard construction skills only. Mission accomplished.
On the other hand, never in my life have I been so out of touch with the world. I think back to my summers in Asia. I used to interview old grannies. I used to blitz museums and night clubs with pen and paper in hand for the inside scoop. I used to go out of my way to meet expats and locals. Now I spend my days with my head stuck up my own logic, obessing over the MoogleTech JavaScript API.
Obsessing over the tiniest nook of the tightest cranny on a bump on the wall. That’s the problem with specialization. Pigeonholing becomes inevitable.
I can roam to another industry or two, picking up more hard skills. I’ll complete more projects and feel more competent. But I’ll be too narrow-sighted, and a vagrant heart like mine isn't satisfied until it has the world for a stage.
I think it’s time to switch strategies. It’s time to consider business, followed by business school, followed by entrepreneurship. Retail is only ten-years old in China and the iron is red hot. FroggyMart directly embodies the development of China. The business they do covers the entire textbook. I can’t think of a better real-world MBA, and I’ll get my Mandarin really up to speed to boot.
Goodbye MoogleTech. Goodbye comfort zone. It’s time for this quant-head to 懂 some serious 事.
They say that not having a plan is a plan to fail. As I toss and turn over FroggyMart's job offer, my subconscious half starts to feed me interesting dreams...
What a beautiful summer day. I’m at Bertucci’s, glazed over in lustful reverie as I peruse the menu. Never before has such a lip-smacking menagerie of delectables been splayed out before me in such tantalizing prose. Garlic potatoes, fine cheeses, and juicy cuts of raw meat hold hands and carouse about anthropomorphically in a festive circle.
In particular, two goddesses of culinary delight catch my bleary eyes. The lasagna looks simply ravishing in her pleated skirt, each layer frosted delicately in ricotta white. But the ravioli wink so seductively, every velvety pillow a unique carnal pleasure. Lo’ help me!
I hem. I haw. So transfixed am I that I fail to notice the waitress sidle up to the table. She unceremoniously plops something down on the table.
A homely piece of overbaked chicken. Unmarinated. Ungarnished. Unsauced. Unloved.
“Madam, how dare you,” I hiss under my breath.
“When you don’t know what you want, that’s what you get," she snaps.
"Overcooked chicken?"
"Something random,” she retorts.
