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Kate Ng Who I Am, and Why B-school Is For Me (Cornell Johnson)

"I'm still baffled how a club-hopping and winter-fearing person like me talked herself out of her element"

I cannot pinpoint the exact moment that I decided to return to school for an MBA. If anything, school was something my siblings and I shunned throughout our Vietnamese–American childhood. It was as if to defy the very academic standards our Asian cohorts studied all night to set. Regardless, as many first-generation Americans can attest, my parents kindly drilled into our consciences the sacrifices that were made for us kids, particularly for our education. So, in a way, my motivation for an MBA stems from guilt, fear, and other subliminal messages my mother embedded in her dinnertime speeches. In other ways, it is a natural by-product of my personality, professional influences, and life aspirations. Like many MBAs, I have a taste for luxury, a desire for adventure, a fascination for travel, and most importantly, a tolerance for hard work (as a means to acquire all of the above). Rather than a list of traits, I think a "blast from my past" better paints a picture of who I am and how I got here.

Around the time I graduated from James Madison University in Harrisonburg, Va., my parents wanted to buy a Sunoco gas station/A-Plus convenience store. This transaction required at least one of the proposed owners to achieve a passing score on a Sunoco-administered exam. My mother, an entrepreneurial businesswoman, failed the exam, missing every question that tested any ability to communicate in the English language. Luckily for her, the job I had accepted with Sprint's Associate Engineer Program was not starting for another three months. I wasn't really doing anything, so would I mind taking the exam in her place?

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My mother's request (in broken English) was the first I had heard about a gas-station venture, but reflexively, I cooperated, not needing nor inviting elaboration. I was an indifferent bystander, not only absorbed in my own affairs, but also all too familiar with my parents' seemingly erratic business decisions. A gas station was merely the latest in a long line of businesses (7-Eleven, Minuteman Press, Eagle Printing, Colony Liquors) my parents had owned. Ignorance about the gas-station buying process was what allowed my parents to trick me into participating in the next step: gas station school.

Sunoco University, outside Philadelphia, was where I grudgingly relocated for two months to obtain the required Sunoco certification. Only those who passed the Sunoco test were admitted to Sunoco University, where the mission was to train and empower the work force in convenience-store retailing. Craig, our distinguished professor, was responsible for "fueling our success," and "making gas happen." Weekly exams were standard, and success was ensured by faithful recitations of Sunoco acronyms, one being the fundamental GUEST principle (Greet-Understand-Enthusiasm-Smile-Thank You!). Course material included: Principles of a Positive Attitude, Did I Greet My Customer?, and How to Handle Food. In summary, Sunoco University was my personal circle of hell.

After all, I was too cool for mini-mart vocabulary and hot-dog-patterned ties. Like many of my classmates during the Internet boom, I managed to score multiple job offers months before graduation day. I needed management training as much as I needed the Sunoco University Certificate of Achievement, affectionately printed from the inkjet on Craig's desk.

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I've emotionally disowned it, but Sunoco University, whether I accept it or not, is a part of my identity. Growing up, my parents didn't have just jobs, but businesses, in which my brothers, my sister, and I became employees. After arriving in the U.S. in 1975, they lived in a refugee camp and were dependent on economic assistance. Determined to create opportunity, Hien and Ha became "Tony" and "Maria" and slowly acquired wealth through small-business and real-estate investments. By the time I reached high school, we resided in what I would call the preppiest neighborhood in Northern Virginia. Instead of Hoang Lan, I went by the cheerleader-friendly "Katie" and our immigrant roots existed only in the memory of my parents. However, with recent MBA ambitions and the pursuit of my own opportunities, I'm afraid my family's values have come back to haunt me. The gas station, Dad's printing business, Mom's liquor store, a complete neglect of child labor laws — they all represent a work ethic I was forced to inherit and a spirit I learned to admire.

Family operations introduced me to small business and entrepreneurship, but it was really my current work environment that drew me to the concept of business school. After a devastating and completely uncalled-for layoff by Sprint, I was hired by a minority- and family-owned company called Unified Industries Incorporated (UII). As a mentor company in the Department of Defense Mentor-Protégé Program, UII hired me to consult with its protégé firms in the development of technology solutions and marketing strategies. Because it was a small, unstructured work environment, I found myself in different functional roles, particularly operations, business development, and information technology. At a higher level, I was also exposed to corporate strategy, implications of management decisions, and organizational behavior — issues in which I had an interest, but no real intellectual contribution. Surrounded at UII by MBAs as my managers and mentors, I saw business school as the next natural step in taking their lead.

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After over three years with UII, I decided to go back to school, a transition that took over a year of application preparation and submissions. I started the process by reading books, attending forums, and talking to managers at work. Because business school for me is more about a comprehensive connection of disciplines rather than specialization, l knew I wanted a general management school with a flexible curriculum and a strong international program. To reduce risk and maximize acceptance probability, I targeted schools at which I had already established a personal contact, whether it be an admissions officer, student, or alumnus. For some reason, I was convinced that if I e-mail people enough, they will start to like me. Finally, I thought about where I most liked the environment and where I found students to be most approachable, genuine, and just fun to be around. At the end, I was left with UCLA Anderson, Cornell Johnson, Georgetown McDonough, NYU Stern, and Texas McCombs.

After three abominable months of waiting, four miraculous acceptances, and one decision extension (kindly granted by NYU), I chose Cornell. Cornell is a place where not only the business school, but the entire university, is distinguished for its tight-knit community.

It is in this setting where I best envision myself getting to know my classmates well and having the most enjoyable experience overall. I'm still baffled how a club-hopping and winter-fearing person like me talked herself out of her element. But the more I discover about my new classmates and the cool little town I will call home, the more I am reminded of why I can't wait to start.

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Hussein Kanji: Why London? (London Business School)

"I know I'm taking a gamble. I'm making a bet on a school that's largely unknown in the United States, passing on my alma mater, and moving to a country where technology seems to mean individual taps for hot and cold water."

Two days ago, I wrote a rather hefty check to London Business School. Actually, in that great American tradition of consumer debt, I charged the amount. Either way, it's official. I'm heading to the United Kingdom and going back to school.

There are a couple of different kinds of reactions I get when I share my news.

One reaction is that lots of friends stare at me, befuddled. You're doing what? What do you need business school for? Do you know how many MBA graduates would kill to do what you do now? What do you hope to learn that you haven't already picked up?

I suppose it's because they think I've done well for myself in my career. I guess I've been pretty fortunate.

It wasn't too long ago that I was invited to help build a new strategic acquisitions practice at Microsoft (MSFT). Without giving away too much, my job is to help Microsoft divisions craft their inorganic growth strategies. I recently spent a couple of months jamming on MSN's acquisition framework. To my friends who love corporate life, I couldn't be in a better spot. My VP, a former partner at McKinsey, deadpans that my job is high beta – high-risk, high-reward. He's right. The job is great. It's one of those rare gigs that let you make a direct impact on an industry leader. There's a definite opportunity cost in leaving.

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So why pack up, move to another continent, and attend London Business School?

Two reasons.

I had my career eureka a few years ago in the midst of raising a first-round of financing for my startup. Up until that time, I had always thought of myself as an entrepreneur. But as I began to work with the venture capital community, a thought struck me: Should I be considering early-stage venture capital as a full-time profession?

I was bitten by the startup bug early on. My freshman year at Stanford coincided with the birth of Mosaic Communications. Mosaic, of course, became Netscape and one of the Web's first success stories. In the wake of its IPO, I began to juggle a typical set of college activities — classes, writing for the school paper — with a more peculiar set — advising local startups, being a founding employee of a Web startup (which sold to KPMG), joining Sun Microsystems' strategic technology team, etc. All of this culminated in my attempt to start a dot-com in 2000, which ended when my founders and I decided not to take the money we were offered (for a litany of reasons).

It also sealed my decision to want to enter the venture-capital industry. This decision still catches some people off-guard.

Given the interest in venture capital, however, most understand. An MBA is pretty much de rigueur for the venture profession.

There are still a few holdouts. I still affectionately get "the lecture." Technology entrepreneurs don't need MBAs, I'm told. Look around. Does Steve Jobs have an MBA? Larry Ellison? Bill Gates? Entrepreneurs should start companies, not dilly-dally at venture funds or at business schools.

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One friend, who sold his company for a quarter-billion and made the cover of this magazine, has been stalwart in his advice. Return to entrepreneurship. Start a company. My old boss, a former vice president of Microsoft, still gets a kick out of recalling that every recommender I turned to — including himself — sat me down, delivered stern caveats about why not to do an MBA and told me to go think about starting a company before handing me my recommendations.

In the end, though, everyone understands.

All this may explain the desire for an MBA. But not necessarily my choice of school. That's usually the next set of questions I get.

Why London? Why not Stanford? Or Harvard? Do you really want to live and work in Europe? (I'm not sure. It depends.) Stay in technology? (Definitely.)

Wouldn't Harvard or Stanford make a much better fit then? After all, if you really love high-tech, they say, you're far better off at Stanford. It's right down the street from the epicenter of venture capital. Why pack up and move to another continent just to attend business school?

Earlier this weekend, I read an interview with Jeffrey Garten, the outgoing dean of Yale's School of Management, in The New York Times. Garten asserts that schools are not doing enough to prepare students to operate in a global economy. That may be true of American schools, but I don't think the same could be said of the European schools. Schools in Europe are forced to operate in a far more global climate.

As much as I want to play to my strengths, I think school is all about the chance to plug weaknesses. I grew up in cosmopolitan New York, spent a year abroad in the Middle East and worked for the world's largest technology company, but the truth is I don't know much about business overseas.

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The way I see it, technology development is increasingly dispersing overseas. Software is inherently fluid. We can argue about how long this phenomena will take to become wide-scale, but it's a clear long-term trend in the industry. There have been an explosion of articles describing the Indian, Chinese, and even Eastern European talent pools. All these markets have some comparative advantages over the U.S. (although some clear disadvantages as well).

I'm not sure how many individuals like myself, who have a good grounding in technology and an interest in international business, exist. My feeling is it's a small number. I'm hoping scarcity is on my side. Partners at funds whom I keep in contact with seem to think I'm making a sound move. My fingers are crossed.

As far as school goes, John Mullins, a professor at London Business School who holds a Stanford MBA, put it best. Twenty years ago, Harvard was the top dog and Stanford's reputation was being established. People raised an eyebrow if you chose Stanford over Harvard. Today, Stanford's become the pre-eminent business school for entrepreneurship and technology, and is pretty much on par with HBS. There is something about London Business School that feels very much like Stanford did back then. For a 40-year-old program to rise to world-class status in such short period of time only portends well for its future. I think London's emphasis on international business will only work in its favor long-term.

I know I'm taking a gamble. I'm making a bet on a school that's largely unknown in the United States, passing on my alma mater, and moving to a country where technology seems to mean individual taps for hot and cold water.

I'm not worried. I guess it's because I'm such a big believer in serendipity. Sure I fret over financing, readjusting to student life and lost salary. I know I'll always wonder if I'm sidelining myself in an ever-changing industry. But I have faith.

Years ago, when all my high school classmates found themselves applying to the same set of colleges in the Northeast, I decided to be different and go to a school 3,000 miles away. At the time, all I knew about Stanford was that it wasn't Harvard, it wasn't Yale, and it was supposed to be just as good. I may have had a grand belief that I could lie out in the California sunshine and work on a tan while my classmates were slogging through another New England nor'easter. (Nobody ever told me about Bay Area rain.) What I never expected was for Stanford to introduce me to high technology and Silicon Valley. That made attending it one of the best decisions of my life.

I like to take risks. Going off the beaten path works well for me. It's the same attitude that took me to Yemen (another story, another time) and it's what is leading me to London. I'm excited. This is going to be a brand new adventure. I can't wait.

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Grant Allen: Who I Am, and Why B-School Is for Me (Wharton)

"From my $135K investment, I hope to gain a sound set of management skills, a grounding in finance and marketing, a diverse and successful set of lifelong peers, plus personal branding..."

CONSULTING TO PHILADELPHIA.  As a thus-far career consultant, it continually amazes me how much time you devote to logistics. Meetings, deadlines, deliverables, travel – they define your life. Who's interviewing Ms. Soanso and Mr. Bigswingin'? That pack's due when? Who's finalizing our flights? And which airline has the prime frequent-flyer program? (Answer: Continental.)

Winding down my job this past June, I remember sitting in my Cleveland hotel room at 11 p.m. sketching out an agenda for the next day's client meeting, idly wondering if I made the right choice staying at the Ritz Carlton when the outmoded Marriott was so much closer to the client. My thoughts were thick from the molasses politics of the day's meetings and the client's oracular business jargon . . . "Vision Meetings" and "Domain Capabilities" . . . Let's throw it up against the wall and see what sticks, then we can get down to brass tacks. It was a too-real case of b.s. bingo gone acutely awry.

This is an admittedly clichéd example but, as with reputations, clichés usually have some basis in fact. Mostly, though, I found the industry to be exciting, inherently varied, and quite rewarding. Yes, arduous travel can be part of the equation and client inertia can boil your blood, but that's the job and it requires patience, leadership, keen communications, and mental dexterity to tender value and succeed. I loved it.

For me, consulting provided a broad business education rather quickly by letting me "have at it" with a slew of business problems across a broad industry spectrum. These often enervating, sometimes migraine-inducing problems provide variety (I get bored fantastically easily), creativity (I used to oil paint, now I get paid to think), and challenge. Gaining the necessary hard skills so I can continue business leadership and problem-solving at a higher, general-manager level is the major impetus behind my decision to attend business school.

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Specifically, I've decided on Wharton. I started August 3 so there was little time for far-flung, post-work summer trips to Southeast Asia or fantastic KAOS gigs like they have at Kellogg. Penn instead has a mandatory pre-term where you brush up on math, stats, and microeconomics, attempting to close the skills gap with the Wall Street wonks in accounting and finance. Except for the math test you must pass (the hurdle is a 55%; surprisingly, folks still failed), Wharton Pre-Term was in reality a month-long happy hour meant to coalesce the class and introduce everyone to Philadelphia, cheesesteaks, and college (again!). It was an absolute blast.

ME IN AN AIRLINE PEANUTSHELL.  Some highlights from the G.R.A. resume: I graduated from Duke in 2000, where, according to Tom Wolfe, "the roseate Gothic spires and manicured lawns" play backdrop to a jock-obsessed, anti-intellectual climate. Hogwash. Yes, basketball's big, but Duke's much more. I was a civil engineering major but eschewed my formative passions of art, architecture, and design in exchange for a promising and hopefully lucrative career in Internet something-or-other . . . maybe start my own sock puppet online pet store or better.

In 1998, I founded a Web design company, A-k Presence, and was immediately haranguing clients, building Web sites while abroad in Australia, and developing managerial skills shepherding programmers at Duke and MIT. I also interned with a "Big 5" e-strategy outfit and oversaw marketing for OnCampusRecruiter, a now defunct dot-com.