On Golf | Golf as a business tool

I grew up in Pinehurst, NC (the golf capital of the world... though we traded the golf hall of fame to florida for the right to host the U.S. Open from time to time...). Everything about this town is related to golf (or the supporting service industries). Even the weather feels compelled to cooperate, as it was a cool 70 degrees on Christmas day and over the weekend following Christmas (so I'm sure there were quite a few elated golfers who got to try out their new toys).

Which is why it is only appropriate that my client at work is a well known golf entity. On their website, they offer tons of information on golf courses and golf equipment. In fact, it could be said that before you hit the golf course, you should check out their website for lots of free golf instruction videos, tips, and tricks. Can you tell who my client is yet? ;)

What has really surprised me though is the number of websites popping up that devote themselves to 'teaching golf as a business tool.' Not only are these people now self-purported experts on using golf as a business tool, but they also quit their jobs to become full-time 'business golf consultants.' I'm not sure that I understand this phenomena at all, as I always figured this was sort of intuitive.

Business is about networking. Golf is similarly about networking (to get on the best member-only courses, tickets to events like the Masters, etc.). If the number one rule of business is trust (or forming meaningful relationships) - then isn't golf just a natural extension of that? Don't cheat, play fair, and have a good time. No one wants to golf with a super serious player, but likewise, if they just want to get drunk, they can do that at a bar instead of a golf course. I don't understand why anyone would need to pay somebody to tell them how to effectively use golf as a business tool. What, give away free branded golf balls? Golf tees? Perhaps even putters for higher-level executives?

This is probably why the economy started to sputter, because people came up with dumb business ideas like this.

Owen

Well, even with Christmas behind us, the MBA process keeps moving along. I received an eVite to a 'Coffee Break' session hosted by a current Owen student (the Vanderbilt business school) and I went. It was just one other prospective student and me, and it was a nice informal chat (and free Starbucks latte) about all things Owen. It was nice to speak with her and get her honest feedback about the program. The only thing she said she wished was better was the school's approach to sustainability (particularly the environment) but she added that the school was working on addressing that subject (they've brought in a top professor in the field, which is surely just the tip of the iceberg).

I think the event was quite telling too in that Vanderbilt was the only university that reached out like this, whereas most other schools are content to have impersonal information sessions or participate in an 'MBA fair' type of deal. Owen just seems a bit more personal, and this event really cemented the school's place a the top of my list.

Now all I have to do is just get accepted....

Das X-Mas

Due to the downturn in the economy, we regret to inform you that Christmas will be canceled this year. Instead we'd like to offer you 'Christmas Lite.'

I wonder how many people got in touch with "the true meaning" of Christmas this year with tight financial situations? My family exchanged modest gifts, but spent a lot of quality time together (my older brother was stationed abroad last Christmas and is finally home in the United States for good... unless he happens to get deployed to Iraq for one last tour). I ended up buying myself a few presents, including some new ski clothes for my upcoming trip to Jackson Hole, Wyoming and some DVDs that I absolutely could not live without (the 4th season of the Office, the 2nd season of 30 Rock, and a used copy of the Bourne Ultimatum). After all, it is better to give AND receive, right? (And doesn't that count double when you're giving and receiving the gifts yourself?)

I bought only books (with the exception of one fleece) for my family. Not so much because they're bookworms, or that I singlehandedly wanted to bail out the book industry, but because they're presents that I can also enjoy! (As I can read the books later, or first, depending on which family member got the book - some of us get to do our reading quicker than others...)

Overall, it was a good Christmas. Hopefully the ski trip will be a blast, and will be followed by acceptance letters from all of the other business schools I've applied to (South Carolina, Colorado, Vanderbilt, and Southern Methodist.. though I won't interview there until January 13th).

Merry Christmas everyone!

Hump Day Humor

This cartoon is courtesy of the Cartoon Bank.

Tuesday Tunes

Guess if I do a 'regular' type of post every day, I'll have a little more incentive to post on a regular basis. Tuesday Tunes will be a lyric section (because lyrics sound so much better than poetry - and probably sell a lot better too).

Without further ado, I present to you:

'A Song for Victoria' (circa summer 2005, during my emo phase)

I know this girl baby she is so fine
And I like to dream one day she’ll be mine
It gets so lonely around when she is gone
How can she make one week feel like so long
We’ve only known each other for three days
But already she’s got me frazzled and frayed
I am falling apart at the seams, so it seems
Because now she’s always in my dreams
So this is my love song for me to say
All of the things my demeanor betrays
So many words that I have to say to you
All these words that I am afraid to say too
I’d like to think that you’d make me laugh
You’d make me cry and bring tears to my eyes
And we would tell each other little white lies
Because we’re not perfect and that’s alright
When we know that our future looks so bright
We would lie in bed thinking how lucky we are
That we were each other’s shining star
Our love the ember that created the spark
To light up a world that once seemed so dark
And this is how I’d dream we’d be
If we were together girl you and me
This is how every night I dream of you
Please tell me that you dream of me too

MBA Monday

MBA update: invited to interview at Southern Methodist, so I'll be in Dallas sometime soon. Also, denied admission to UNC's Kenan-Flagler Business School, which means I'll be leaving the beautiful golf courses of North Carolina behind. However, there are probably some fantastic golf courses in Columbia (SC), Nashville, and Dallas. And when the the ground isn't covered with snow, I bet Boulder, Colorado is a lovely place to golf too.

Hump Day Humor

This golf cartoon is courtesy of the Cartoon Bank.

Jonas Blackburn

So it appears that re-using old, previously hidden writing pieces is easier than generating something new. This is an excerpt of something I wrote during high school (hugely inspired by Catcher in the Rye). It's obviously rough, but I think it contains some decent imagery and ideas.

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He stopped walking and looked around him, not merely glancing, but actually looking. He was standing in the middle of a long gray hallway, a hallway he walked down many times everyday whose walls were decorated with pictures of people long since dead; pictures of various classes and distinguished individuals who had graduated from the school since 1767. The school boasted about the faces that stared out from those deteriorating pictures and how among them there were Senators, Congressmen, millionaires, two Presidents, and every other blueblood dream. He thought the pictures and the walls fitting for the school because they represented the dead and lifeless spirit of the place. Gray walls and pictures from the past were all that the school was made of; every hall the same, every room the same, and every student the same. They all shared the same gray dreams.

They all came from the same background and shared the same futures. They came from wealthy white families and would take over their father’s business or marry some blueblood’s daughter and take over her father’s business. The school boasted of its diversity in their brochures but the only differences were what luxury cars the students owned. Mayflower Academy, named after the ship that brought most of their families to America, had been a breeding ground for bluebloods since her inception, and nothing would ever change it.

Students filed through the hallway to their afternoon classes in expensive blazers and pants or equally expensive skirts and blouses. He just stood and stared at them. Every single student looked the same. They all sounded the same, talking about the trivial aspects of life. He could hear parts of people’s shallow conversations. No one here cared about anything important, only about making a lot of money in ten years, much like the outside world. A life lived for the future, seemed so shallow and gray he thought to himself. A few students bumped into him as they walked by, some on their cell phones and others too preoccupied with making it to the next class on time so that they could learn groundbreaking economics theory that would allow them to start the next giant industrial conglomerate. Only one student who bumped into him even acknowledged the fact, with a barely audible apology. Everybody ignored him and the rest of the world as they were only preoccupied with themselves. He really felt no differently, so just as shallow and gray, he walked out the front doors of Mayflower Academy.

The cool autumn breeze was blowing outside. The maples and oaks were losing their leaves of red, orange, and yellow and littered the well-manicured bright green lawns of the campus. He stopped walking after a few steps and watched the leaves dance in the wind. A gust of wind would sweep a pile of leaves up and throw them into the sky, like children do when they are playing in their yards; and then slowly the leaves would float back down to the ground, only to be thrown back into the air by another gust of wind. A cluster of leaves tumbled across the lawn and down the hill toward the pond at the edge of campus. They looked like a flock of birds racing through the sky, except that these leaves had no particular place to go. They’d skip through the air, tumble to the ground, and get back up again. The smell of autumn filled his nose and the breeze blew through his coarse blond hair and left his blazer flapping in the wind.

This is life he thought to himself, not what goes on inside those gray walls. The trees, leaves, and water; life. Not the same people, walking down the same halls, and doing the same thing every day. Not just living life as an empty shell with a predestined occupation and fate. He ripped off his black tie and threw it into the wind which carried it a few feet across the lawn where it fell crumpled in a pile of silken pity. He let his books slide from under his arm and fall to the ground. He walked the direction the wind was blowing him, slowly coming upon the edge of the pond. He stared at his reflection.

He was almost a man, or at least the reflection was almost a man. His rugged jaw was diluted in the gentle ripples the wind made in the pond. The reflection’s blue eyes stared at him, taunting him. He saw something in his reflection, in those blue eyes, a glimmer that said his time here was over and that there was something greater in life for him to be doing than being the prototypical All-American boy. His father had made sure that he would be great at everything he did, not for his own personal satisfaction but because his father knew that how he grew up would reflect upon the family name, and that is all his father was concerned with. That is why he spent so much money sending his son to football, basketball, and baseball camps. He was one of the only kids he knew who had his own personal trainer – and thanks to that fact he was the standout athlete at Mayflower Academy. He led his football team to the state championship his junior year, and won two state championships for the baseball team.

Local newspapers were forecasting that this was finally his year for a basketball championship and he would have his trifecta of athletic championships. He was blessed with exceptional genes, he knew this, and so did many big Division I colleges. He had been recruited by many schools to play for them, but his dad would not hear of it – he was going to Harvard, just like his dad had, and that was that. He looked away from his reflection down the road toward town, and Jonas Blackburn made up his mind that he would finally leave and do something more with his life, or at least do something that he wanted to do.

No Youth Is An Island

The following is an essay I submitted for a Vanity Fair contest, sometime during the 2005-2006 academic year.

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Every year the city of Chapel Hill closes off a portion of Franklin Street for a Halloween celebration that consists basically of 75,000 costumed youths parading around in varying degrees of sobriety, some of them not parading so much as stumbling. I went last year for the first time and I felt something while I was there. It was something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, and I don’t think any of the 75,000 other people there could either. Franklin Street felt as if everyone was taking one last collective breath in anticipation of something, but no one knew what it was that they were anticipating.

We, the youth of America, breathe it in the air and it gives us goose bumps on our arms. We live it and among it, letting it permeate and pervade in every pore of our society and culture. We were taught it in history class and told to write about it in our college admission essays. We see it every time we turn on the television, but it never ceases to amaze that CBS promotes it as much as MTV, the high priest of commercialism. We hear it when we listen to the radio, in the rap songs laden with sirens, gunshots, and gangsters but also on Bible-thumping flag-waving country music stations. It is impossible to avoid, unapologetic, and more relentless than Les Miserables' Javert. It is the idea of the rugged and self-reliant individual living the American Dream. And it is fading. Fast. Everyone loves to call America’s youth fat, lazy, stupid, spoiled, disillusioned, and apathetic. But America’s youth is waking up from the dream to realize that there is a crack undermining it, a contradiction that allows 75,000 people to get together and get drunk but once the party ends it is back to every man for himself. No man is an island John Donne wrote in his Meditation 17, yet our culture seems to be leaning towards further isolating ourselves from one another when all we need to do is pull together just a little closer. United we stand, divided we fall. We can all feel the fall coming, but being young and still inexperienced we’re unsure of how to catch ourselves.

Mount Rushmore features the faces of four presidents who we’ve come to associate with all the rugged and respected virtues of Americans. They were honest, brave men who did what was right even though they knew the risks. Declaring independence from the most powerful empire on Earth? Abolishing Slavery? No single man, not even a great one, could handle such tasks alone. Washington and Lincoln both had generals to support (and who supported) their causes. Jefferson sought help from James Madison and others when writing the Declaration of Independence. Mount Rushmore unwittingly celebrates the lost step in America’s thought process. We praise and remember the individuals who acted upon the will of the nation while simultaneously forgetting both the ideas they embodied and the fact that they alone were not the founders of America. We forget 56 people signed the Declaration, we forget the names and dates of Revolutionary and Civil War battles, and we never knew the names of the soldiers who fought in them or the wives who supported them. But we know Washington, Lincoln, Jefferson, and Roosevelt. Either we don’t realize or choose to ignore the reality that their greatness was born out of the actions of everyone. Americans knew something was amiss and they fixed it, together.

Since Mount Rushmore was completed there has been maybe one president, FDR, who would merit a spot on the mountain. Of course this is due largely to a lack of events with great leaders to immortalize. The Civil Rights movement’s champions were all assassinated and then there was Korea, Vietnam, an impeachment, an oil crisis, recession, and the end of the Cold War - nothing quite worth glorification. After World War II Americans seemed eager to move out of the city and into the suburbs so that they could get their own backyards, Cadillacs, and all the new wonders that a powerful economy was willing to sell them. Americans had become complacent consumers – there was no more rallying around worthy causes, ask the hundreds of thousands who remain slaves today, the millions with AIDS in Africa (and the millions more who will get it), or the third of the world’s population that lives on less than a dollar a day. We tell ourselves, those aren’t our problems, so we can sleep at night. We rationalize it with logistics, repeating our reasoning over and over again so that we convince ourselves we’re right. “I am only one person; what difference can I make?” Everybody loves the cowboy but no one wants to be one, not when he can buy the specially priced DVD/CD box set at Wal-Mart for $19.95 and get the experience in digital surround sound.

America’s youth is waking up and realizing that there is something wrong, that even though the American Dream might be coming true for some of them, there is something about the way that it is coming true that isn’t sitting right in our stomachs. Ironically enough it is the President of the United States who is unconsciously waking us up. He represents us and our voice; after all we did vote for him, though some people named Al Gore take exception to that. Bush is the epitome of American cowboy, complete with boots, horse, and hat. Yet the situation in Iraq shows that maybe the cowboy should have taken the time to round up a bigger posse before he went riding in guns a’ blazing to make things right. The mismanagement of Hurricane Katrina relief wasn’t his administration’s fault because ‘no one in the White House really knew what was going on’ when the rest of the world was tuned into channel 6 in awe of the terrible destruction. We might be fat, lazy, and stupid American youths but we’re not that stupid. These aren’t problems that are thousands of miles away in a country that we can’t locate on a map; they are problems in our own country, affecting other Americans just like us. I didn’t go to Iraq, but my brother did; and our mom was pretty happy to have him home again. Not everyone’s mom is so lucky. Two things you can’t get at Wal-Mart are second chances and sons.

America has taken mindless consumerism too far, creating and marketing things that we don’t need, things that we aren’t really sure exactly what they do or what they’re made of. Even lifestyles are advertised, glorified, and packaged in 12 ounce aluminum cans. A redeeming virtue of commercialism is that it built a large marketing machine that was used for charitable purposes, bringing in millions of dollars in donations from viewers. Famous actors, athletes, and two ex-Presidents solicited donations. They reminded us to keep in touch with humanity, especially our own brethren. The question is; will we stay in touch with one another? Will we continue to donate our money and our time to help the victims rebuild or will we go back to the living room couch, waiting to see which individual triumphs in the new season of Survivor? Donne’s Meditation 17 ends with this thought: Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

No man is an island, yet we Americans are not yet willing to exert the effort to rope together the islands of individualism that we have spent the past fifty years building, adding fancier and fancier additions as fast as the corporate world could provide them. The youth of America thinks the way the 75,000 people on Franklin Street felt, willing to consume to the point of excess, and still anticipating something more. We know that there is something more to be had, and we can’t quite put our fingers on it. But we’re getting a better idea of what it is. We’re thinking for ourselves and not about only ourselves. We are headed in the right direction. John F. Kennedy once said “Our task is not to fix the blame for the past, but to fix the course for the future.” We do not need to blame anyone, even if they are at fault, for the wrongs that we faced yesterday and face today. We should not rally together only after a disaster; we should be rallying everyday, making sure we all get to live the dream.

I am reminded of a story from Halloween night, where a student I know was left without a ride home by his two roommates; yes, he could have been a tough individual and walked home, alone, in the dark. But how hard would it have been for his roommates, or any one of the 75,000 people on Franklin Street, to ask him if he needed a ride?

So Dan, Tell Me About Yourself

I have discovered that the South is starting to rub off on me. No, I don't like NASCAR. And I don't like country music, grits, hunting, or moonshine. And I also don't like talking about myself. I'm fine writing about myself (that is what my book is about) but when I'm asked questions like, 'tell me about a time you led a team' or 'what does leadership mean to you?' I find stumble for answers. Not because I haven't done these things, but because I'm trying to figure out exactly HOW to tell my story in a manner that shows I'm competent, but not cocky. Perhaps I should practice more, but I'm not sure how much it'll help as nothing ever compares to the real thing and the fact that the interview can determine my future.

Ah well, Vanderbilt has a lovely campus and seems like a program I could definitely see myself attending.

MBA Interview Trip

So as you may have noticed (though *anyone* noticing anything on this blog would be considered a surprise seeing as how there is very little here to lead me to believe that anyone would come read this drivel) I have been absent as of late.

My first MBA application was due October 24th (for UNC's Kenan-Flagler Business School). Afer that - I had to hit the Nov. 15th deadline for three programs (Colorado, South Carolina, & Southern Methodist) and the Nov. 17th deadline for another two (Notre Dame and Vanderbilt).

I received interview requests (which is typically considered a "good sign") from Colorado, South Carolina, and Notre Dame. I arranged my own interview for UNC and Vandy, which only leaves SMU up in the air... and they apparently have a very low acceptance rate for young applicants so I'm not feeling super great about my chances there.

This week I'll be visiting Vandy (in Nashville) and South Carolina (in Columbia) - so I probably won't be blogging much this week either. Then next week I have an interview in RTP with a ND alum (who is now a VP of something-long-and-convoluted at IBM) and a phone interview with the Colorado admissions committee (because getting to Boulder with the holidays and work was going to be a logistical nightmare).

And then - the week of Dec. 15-20 I'll hear back from UNC and ND regarding my admission - so hopefully I hear some good news before Christmas!

Eventually I'll have my life back and be able to dive into my book, which has been sitting at around 25,000 words for quite some time now and needs some loving.

Turkey Ball 2008

Well - it's that time of year again. Luckily I managed to lose a little weight before Thanksgiving so I didn't have to worry too much about packing it on over the holiday. Hopefully now I can survive Christmas....

Since most people do the "what I'm thankful for" thing on Thanksgiving, I guess I'll give it a go:

My family - both of my parents are doing a good job of sticking to their diets, and their addiction to dancing has allowed my parents to really start to notice the weight loss which is good for both of them. Also, my brother (a U.S. Marine) will finally be home in December for good and serve the rest of his duty in NC (near home), assuming we stay out of any additional conflicts between now and 2010 (I'm hoping we don't invade any other countries).

A new president - I think this goes without saying.

My health - I've lost a little weight and hoping to get back in shape before:

A VACATION - For the first time since May of 2006 I'll be going on vacation in January 2009 to go skiing in Jackson Hole, Wyoming! I'm super excited, but I need to do some calisthenics and such so that I can get the most out of my trip. Skiing out west is pretty tough on the legs!

And finally,

FOOTBALL. This season hasn't necessarily been 'pretty' per se - but it has been a good year for the NFL (and the Carolina Tar Heels didn't do *too* bad in the ACC either). The Falcons are redeemed, the Patriots have been knocked down to 'mere-mortal' status, Brady Quinn looked good in the two games he played (and the Browns will finally get a new coach who understands how to manage a game after this season), Brett Favre sparked a lot of excitement in New York, and... pretty much anyone can win on any given Sunday (except apparently, the Detroit Lions and Cincinnati Bengals). Parity makes the games typically pretty exciting, so I'm looking forward to the next couple of weeks when the teams start to fight it out for the few playoff spots left.

Funny cartoons

As those of you in the western hemisphere are probably aware, today is Wednesday, or 'hump day' as I like to call it (and yes, I giggle when I say that). The problem with Wednesday is you're only halfway through the week. Or conversely, if your week hasn't been terribly productive, you're *already* halfway through the week. But with football still a solid three days away, I need something to help me make it to my chance to sleep in and enjoy the weekend, which is why I turn to funny cartoons. I thought this one was particularly relevant, so here is the first cartoon in my answer to the ever-present "wordless Wednesday" series I see on so many blogs, which I shall call HUMP DAY HUMOR:

Online MBA

Last night I submitted part I of my MBA application to UNC - Chapel Hill, leaving me with the essays, recommendations, and interview (which I'll have this Saturday). I've applied early action, which means that if I get in I am expected to attend (which of course I will). My GMAT scores were okay - I beasted the verbal section (89th percentile) and the analytical writing assessment (87th percentile, with a perfect 6/6) but my quantitative score was pretty low (only 53rd percentile). There are schools that offer a no GMAT MBA, but most of these tend to be online MBA programs.

Though I think the online MBA has a lot of benefits that the traditional MBA does not, such as the flexibility of being able to take the classes whenever you want and wherever you want, I still think that the live and in-person networking opportunities presented by an on-campus MBA program outweigh the additional costs (such as moving, having to leave the work force, etc.).

If I had any blog readers, I would ask what you think!

Welcome to space!

Hi! My name is Dan and I'm an alcoholic, or rather, I would be an alcoholic if I did not have so much to do with so little time. I'm currently in the process of applying to a couple of full-time MBA programs in hopes that one of them is gracious enough to accept me my money.

The motto of the blog, 'Life is Good, Make it Better' is my motto in life. That's why I'm interested in sustainability and sustainable development, and what I plan on studying if/when I enroll in a MBA program.

Outside of my interest in business, I am an avid runner (when my knees aren't slowly crumbling to dust a la Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade and a writer (I consider my current work, a memoir, to be a cross between Catcher in the Rye and Animal House).

I am currently employed as a 'whatever I'd like my title to be' at an Internet consulting company. It is the sweetest job in the world.