My last final for my life as an undergrad happens in about two hours. The class is Strategic Management, and I really need to focus on Michael Porter's Three Tests for Firm Diversification. But I also know that I need a 52% on this final in order to get a passing grade in the class, so the cost-benefit analysis has me writing a blog post instead. This is one of those classes where I just go through the motions and forget everything as soon as I walk out of the room. Strategic Management, heh. What the deuce does that even mean? Shouldn't I know after studying it for 3 months? Okay, I guess I picked up a couple of tidbits along the way. Writing a few papers and giving a few presentations in class has forced me to gobble up and regurgitate a few items of note. I know about the five forces. I know about support structures and about low-cost versus differentiation. But mostly I know about objectives and goals. I know more about mission statements and vision statements. I know the difference, I suppose, between posturing and what is gut-wrenchingly real.
This is my last term as an undergraduate. It's taken me longer than the average bear to get here. Part of me is still in high school, wondering what the point of college really is. It's just a piece of paper produced by a system that was invented by the man, man: It don't mean nothin. Part of me is still in the future: I have kids and a wife and a house and a job and a fairly happy disposition. College is the glue, in my mind, that holds these two positions together. It is the bridge, the door, the other cliches, that gets me from that cynical kid to the happy adult. So it's taken more than a decade to get there. It's a long bridge, it's a heavy door. Whatever. The point is that I'm done, and I couldn't be happier. Well, that's not true.
Business-speak is funny stuff. "Strategic Management." What is that anyhow? Who talks like that other than pretentious actors in pretentious television shows written by pretentious writers trying to sound less pretentious? I guess my classmates and future colleagues talk like that. I guess I talk like that now. At least, now I have a piece of paper allowing me to talk like that. But what "Strategic Management" really means is something I wish I knew more about a decade ago. It really is just a very weird, publishable way of saying "Watch your step." It is a quasi-academic way of forcing you to sit down and ask, "How long is that bridge? How stable is it? How heavy is that door? When is the right time to open it?" You ask the question today, and again tomorrow, and again next week. You wake up at 2 in the morning on some still night and ask it again with sweat dropping off your brow and your wife breathing slowly next to you. You ask it again when you're feeling stressed at a pumpkin patch on a beautiful October day and you're confused about how best to spend your time. You ask it again when you're putting peppermint sticks on your Christmas tree and putting off studying for your finals. You ask it again when you're studying for your last final of your undergraduate career.
So while I'm studying about Michael Porter and his highly publishable thoughts and considerations, I'm asking myself about this bridge I've crossed. Did I cross it quickly enough? Did I cross it boldly enough? Did I open this door with enough flamboyant gusto? Have I made my entrance into this bold new world with enough zest? I know Megan says Yes, and I know she says it with all her heart. I'm not sure what I think about it yet. Here is where Strategic Management comes in, though: The bridge continues on and the portal is guarded by a revolving door. The process continues, and it must, because I don't have the kids and the house and the dog that I want yet. What I have is a piece of paper and an ability to more accurately judge my position in my life, and my placement in this world, and the dreams and goals I have, and the methods I have to retrieve them.
My last final for my life as an undergrad happens in about two hours, and I am finally ready.
