Break in the Burgh

I love Pittsburgh. I only spend a few weeks a year here over the holidays, but I carry it with me everywhere I go. Of course, my feelings for the Burgh are biased by the nostalgia that lingers from my youth, so it's hard to separate truth from fiction--what the city really offers from what it represents in my mind. In my mind, it's the place of my childhood--where I played wiffle ball in the front yard using a bush, a tree, and a lamppost as the three bases, where I frolicked in the leaves with my brother, where I went sledding until some lawn-obsessed neighbor demanded that we leave. It's where I played on three soccer teams at a time, where I ate countless home cooked meals prepared by my mom, and where my dad picked me up at the bus stop after school.

Of course, to other people, Pittsburgh is none of those things, although some may ring familiar. Over Christmas, my uncle mentioned a title that caught his eye in the book store: Pittsburgh: The Paris of Appalachia. We joked around a bit about what that actually means and my cousin suggested that maybe it referred to the City's fashion sensibility. I laughed with images of Steelers' jackets flashing through my mind. (Of course, with no clothing tax, Pittsburgh isn't such a bad place to be fashionable.) According to the author, that title is actually borrowed from some hipster's jab at the city. The fact that the author uses it is pretty awesome...like when Dagny mockingly names her brilliant rail the "John Galt Line" in Atlas Shrugged.

In any case, I don't see Pittsburgh as the Paris of anything. It's far too unique for those kinds of comparisons--in my case, far too personal.

Graham Who?

The cover story of this week's Economist posed a rather cheeky comparison between Obama and Graham Greene's Quiet American. Immediately, I had a profound urge to read Graham Greene...really, to read literature period. For most MBAs--business people generally, to be sure--an average reading list consists of the Wall Street Journal, The Economist, maybe BusinessWeek, plus a few industry specific publications that vary depending on the individual (TechCrunch or Wired if you're like me). That list is, of course, ominously void of literature. I have not once walked into the Atrium and seen an MBA devouring Kundera or Salinger or even Irving. In truth, I have never seen anyone reading a work of fiction, philosophy or historical non-fiction within the walls of Sage Hall. I too am among the guilty. I used to keep a copy of Thoreau's Walden on my bed stand, but only as a symbol strategically placed to preserve my sanity.

Last week Jane Hileman, CEO of American Reading Company, guest lectured in my Cases in Venture Financing class. A self-proclaimed literary activist, Jane is clearly immersed in a world of books that most business people cannot imagine. And it showed. She was graceful, a natural communicator, intellectual, soulful even. In sum, she seemed authentic in a way that every good business person should strive to be.

Winter break is just around the corner, and undoubtedly, there will be companies to research, networks to strengthen and countless news and business publications to consume. Nevertheless, I hereby vow to read something beautiful that has withstood the test of time, history and political meanderings--something that has meaning that is deeper than any corporation or bank, and as such will retain relevancy throughout the ages--something that is, at its very core, human.

Email is so 2000

I read somewhere that Warren Buffett likes to keep his schedule simple and it's been in the back of my mind all semester. I long for simplicity and focus, but the modern MBA pulls you in so many different directions.

So much of the communication, planning, calendaring, and collaboration happens on email that it's hard to remember that not-so-long-ago email was not a central part of education. In high school, our computer lab didn't even offer internet access. By the time I got to Stanford, we used T1 connections in our dorm rooms and libraries, because the campus hadn't yet gone wireless. We were using a good bit of email and instant messenger, of course, but it was not a fundamental component of education. And it was our generation that brought social networking into its own while we were undergrads.

But as surely as email is absolutely fundamental to the MBA, it's also a bit dated. It's entirely inefficient--linear, asynchronous, static. And in a world that's shifting from the personal processor to the "cloud," sending around attachments seems almost archaic.

Over the last couple weeks, I had the great pleasure of working with Novell's marketing organization on some of the messaging for its new collaboration platform--Pulse. It's like Google Wave, but truly made for the enterprise (and in fact, the products are interoperable). Google calls Wave "what email would look like if it was invented today." I agree and believe these are disruptive technologies that will render email obsolete in short order. And while older generations complain that these products promote information overload and find them distracting and overwhelming, younger generations already find email underwhelming. The Times, They Are A-Changin'.

On Fairness

In an MBA program, notions of fairness are hardly ever top of mind or ripe for discussion. Instead, we're always talking about competitive advantage, market domination, extracting value...winning. Also, business school is overrun with type-A individuals, who are predominately process oriented with concrete goals, which typically entail either looking good, getting ahead, or both. But what about fairness?

Ironically, the one class that I thought would be most focused on "winning" conjures the ideals of fairness more than any other--Negotiations. We spend our class time on live negotiations. So to say the least, the class is a meeting of egos. But the best negotiators aren't the ones with the biggest egos. They don't enter into a negotiation with the intent simply to be the winner at the expense of the loser. They are the ones who work hard to communicate, create value, mitigate risk for both sides, and innovate.

There is an art to negotiation, as with any human exchange, and when there is wiggle room that art can be the equivalent of millions of dollars. But in the end, a negotiation is truly worthwhile only if both sides win. Of course, it's always nice to win a little more.

And sometimes the only fair deal is no deal at all.

Beware of Sharks!

I don't currently have a TV, but I'm not one of those people that thinks TV is lowbrow or beneath me. I rather enjoy a good show. Particularly after a hard day's work, there is often nothing more relaxing, and being in-the-know about current TV can often play an important role in conversation (or social networking in MBA speak). Living sans roommates for the first time in my life, I'm too cheap to pay for cable, but fortunately hulu seems to offer just the right reprieve from real life.

Recently, Shark Tank, a new ABC reality series about entrepreneurship and venture capital has made its way to hulu and, as you might imagine, I figured it would be right up my alley. Most of the business ideas thus far have been horrifically bad, yet the "sharks" still invest because otherwise the show would be pretty boring.

If there is one reoccurring theme in the four episodes that have aired thus far, it's that entrepreneurs are fools. They are fools because they invest their life savings into two-bit ideas, fools because they utterly lack common sense about whether there is actually a market for their products, and fools because they value their companies on average about 10X higher than the investors.

The show is, of course, sensationalized. The sharks invest in businesses that no one would ever buy into in reality, and the show makes it appear that decisions are being made on the spot that clearly are not. But the notion that entrepreneurs are fools is an important message and I think there's truth in it. In some sense you have to be a fool to risk your livelihood on something where the odds are so poor. One in ten start-ups succeed. The only reason VCs play these odds is because their big scores offset all the losses (plus they have enough ego to believe they are good at choosing companies). But, for the individual, bootstrapping a company, these odds should be very very scary. And yet, this culture of big bets and big returns--this entrepreneurial spirit--is precisely what makes the U.S. so successful. To be sure, we should preserve it with our every last dollar.

Riptides

My Google status is slipping, so I guess the gods are telling me to blog more. I've promised to write more on my experiences at Novell, but I'm going to defer that for one more post to talk about another hat that I'm wearing this summer and throughout the school year.

As a BR Ventures fund manager, I get to focus my attention on two of our portfolio companies, one of which is Jodange. The investment decision to move forward with Jodange was made last Spring, but as most people know, a VC's job doesn't end with an investment. So, to the extent that Fund managers can successfully juggle full-time academics, summer internships, clubs and activities, as well as our comprehensive responsibilities for the Fund, we should and must work to promote the success of our portfolio companies. Of course, their success is our success, so I'm not talking about charity.

Jodange is an exciting company, technologically at the forefront of its field. The company's products are based on technology developed in Cornell's Computer Science Department under the direction of Dr. Claire Cardie. Larry Levy, the CEO, has a strong track record and all the right things VCs look for in a manger. And, the company already has substantive customer success, which speaks for itself.

BR Ventures believes that Jodange is positioned for big things (hence the investment), but that's not to say there aren't mountains to climb en route. For any company in today's economy, cash is king, but start-ups have a unique relationship with cash. By that I mean, they must do more than everyone else with far less than everyone else, with burn rates constantly pulling them out and under like dangerous riptides. I've read articles like this one on how down economies are good for first-rate start-ups. To be honest, I think that's seeing the world through rose colored glasses.

Yet, some start-ups will persevere and Jodange is at the top of my list.

p.s. I'm writing this post on a ferry headed from the Cape to MV. Lucky me.

So Much to Say

Ironically, I think the main reason that I haven't blogged much this is summer is that there are so many things to blog about, I couldn't settle on what to write. Novell (NOVL) has proven to not only offer what I have to imagine is one of the strongest MBA intern programs in the industry (i.e. access to and events with the entire senior executive team, projects that sit at the heart of the core business, social outings, not to mention recognition for hard work and delivery), but also to be a great choice for me personally.

The question of how to market and sell open source software is profoundly interesting, and perhaps what drew me to the company in the first place (in addition to the unbelievably capable team). I was at one time perplexed by how Novell could recruit and retain such talent, when so many other companies struggle to nurture the human capital that their very success is contingent upon. But as I've gotten more intimately involved with the operations of the company, I must say, I get it.

Novell is a company at a cross roads, facing unique and complex challenges. It is a company ripe with opportunity that has the maturity, resources, and alliances to take advantage of that opportunity. This sets it apart both from large, public companies that lack agility and the ability to innovate, as well as small private companies that lack resources, relationships, patent portfolios, breadth and depth.

I intend to write more later on what I've learned--specifically through my role in Alliance Marketing and generally on what I have found to be a top notch marketing organization. I also hope to offer my two cents on how this all fits with my MBA at the Johnson School, in regards to areas of strength and opportunities for improvement. But those are separate blogs for another day.

On the Road

People are always asking me, "What do you do for fun?" Whether it's a peer making small talk or a recruiter trying to figure out the person behind the resume, the fascination with what we do outside the office (or the school) is universal.

One of my great loves is taking the all-American road trip. To be sure, folks from other countries also take road trips--Parisians drive to the French countryside, for example. But long, meaningful road trips are a quintessential part of Americana. The US has such beautiful and vast expanses and so many places to go.

In California, my friends and I were on the road frequently. We went to Tahoe, Yosemite, and occasionally headed south to Santa Barbara. I never drove north to Portland and Seattle, but I should have.

My restless soul finds peace on these trips in a way that I've never felt in foreign lands and in and out of airports. So, in the spirit of Sal and Dean from On the Road, traveling back and forth across the country, going nowhere and everywhere at the same time, I hit the road after my last final exam. After a week in New York City, I returned to Ithaca to pile up my car and head towards New England.

After a detour to a town called Colonie, New York, thanks to a bad case of engine sludge, I headed east through Vermont on 9 (the scenic route) and then onwards to New Hampshire to a picturesque lake house. From there, I headed back to Colonie to pick up my Saab, newly unclogged and running quite well. I retraced the highways back to New England, this time headed for the Cape, and concluded my trip via ferry to Martha's Vineyard.

Tomorrow I'm headed to Boston, where my new cubicle awaits me at Novell. And with this one last short trip, the halcyon days of road trips to the homes of my family and friends will come to a close.

One Down

Though I can't officially call myself a second year yet, I'm no longer a first year either. As I turned in my last final exam and hurried down to CTB for a delicious bagel, I could not help but feel a sense of satisfaction. I now know what WACC is, that all the important stuff in a financial statement is buried in the notes, and that higher leverage can make for a better return or a quicker demise.

Springtime finally found Ithaca on the map, and I hope that with it, I'll find a week or two of rest and reflection. One thing that I don't need to think twice about is my affection for the Johnson School. It's not something I say lightly--I love this place and here are a few things I love most, in no particular order:

• Walking over a gorge to get to class
  
• The Park program
  
• The blueberry beer at Chappy's
  
• The responsibility of managing a venture capital fund
  
• College Town Bagels (mentioned twice in one blog!)
  
• Ladies' brunches
  
• Misplaced, yet hilarious CBJ articles
  
• A handful of close friends (I won't name names--you know who you are)
  

To avoid a totally sappy, sentimental blog, I will say that there are a few things I didn't like as well. I could've done with one less Excel model and one less mention of social networking. I also wish business schools would take the social sciences more seriously and approach them with more academic rigor. There is an inevitable tension between professional education and academic learning, and I don't believe any business program has adequately addressed it. Certainly, as an undergrad studying religion and philosophy, I was encouraged to think on a level that business school does not demand. And yet, I feel like I know so many new things. Suddenly the Wall Street Journal makes sense.

To all the second years who took the time to get to know me, mentor me, and challenge me with new ideas, best of luck! May our generation of business leaders change things.

Fortuna

Cornell's annual Entrepreneurship Celebration took place this week, giving students and alumni alike the opportunity to see some of the magic and creativity that is lurking below the surface of the University. BR Ventures hosted the Cornell Venture Challenge, a business plan competition judged by VCs and industry experts. As a new manager of the fund, I got to sit with the judges as they deliberated and see firsthand the art that goes into selecting a promising business.

I say "art" because there was nothing scientific about the process. Five smart guys sat across the table from each other, bounced around their thoughts, critiqued, criticized, complimented and chose winners and losers, taking themselves and their jobs very seriously, but making sure to crack a few jokes along the way. And in a nutshell, that's what VCs do--sure there's due diligence and expert advice, valuation, etc. but it's all highly subjective and at the end of the day, the only true authority is hindsight. The truth is that if venture capital were a science, than the good scientists would be very very rich and there would be no bad VCs left to lose.

I'm currently taking a course on valuations and the looming theme that Professor Weinbaum stated upfront is that valuations can be (and are) molded to arrive at almost any desired outcome. In effect, an "artist" can decide on the value a priori and then use a valuation to provide proof of its veracity. Someone with even an amateur (undergraduate) background in philosophy such as myself has got to laugh at this methodology. Descartes would undoubtedly get a kick out of valuations.

If it all seems pointless and futile--if VC seems like little more than a crap shoot--then business itself might be reduced to a mere game of poker, where strategy and observation play a role, but luck deals the cards. I think that luck is more relevant than most of us would like to believe, but at the end of the day, our very human skills of perception, negotiation, understanding and interconnectedness--in fact, our feelings--serve to elevate gambling into good business, if only we have the experience to back them up.

Congratulations to all the finalists and Bombyx, the winner of the Cornell Venture Challenge. And good luck!

Rock N' Roll

First of all, the book I've been touting for weeks is now available. Buy it here. You'll love it.

Last night I did something that I've never done before in Ithaca. I attended a phenomenal rock concert. As you might imagine, Ithaca isn't exactly a haven for popular musicians (although it's artistic spirit does lend itself to local bands). For some unearthly reason, Josh Ritter hopped on his tour bus and traveled to Ithaca to play a show. In truth, he played a half a show--the other half was played by a British alternative band called Gomez. Fortunately for me, Josh played first, because I left after a few songs of Gomez' act.

Josh Ritter is brilliant. He's a poet and he writes about all the right things, like Van Morrison in his heyday. I think he too was surprised to find himself in Ithaca. He kept saying "why haven't I been here before?" I'm pretty sure I know why, but it was nice of him to say he'd come back. The show was supposed to be at State Theatre, a beautiful large theater with an orchestra and a balcony, but was moved to a place called the Haunt. I'd never been to the Haunt, but it was a very cool venue, which I'll definitely go back to. Ultimately, I was glad to see the show there. It was far more intimate than it would have otherwise been and I prefer concerts where people are standing (and drinking) and involved, over concerts where people are sitting. The symphony is for sitting; rock is for standing (and ideally, dancing). The disconcerting thing about the last minute change of venues is that I can only guess it was because they simply didn't sell enough tickets and State Theatre would have felt empty. If colleges are supposed to have the pulse on great music--and not just music with mass popular following--but great, less known, more talented artists, then Cornell (and Ithaca College) seems to have dropped the ball.

My suggestion is that it picks the ball back up, and as much as I hate to admit it, the undergrads have to lead the charge. MBAs are getting too old. And Jackie Greene, if you are reading this, please come to Ithaca and play a show!

What's Up, SEC?

The release date of my dad's book is just around the corner. The book's content very much applies to my current studies here at the Johnson School, and the intersection of its release and my life is, at the very least, well-timed.

I'm taking a course this semester called "Ethics and Corporate Culture," which is co-taught between the Business School and the Law School. Interestingly, ethics is a topic that law schools teach more effusively than business schools, although I doubt anyone could come up with a correlation to the ethical standards among graduates. In fact, when lawyers or business people do very bad things, most schools seem to simply throw up their hands, putting the distance of time between themselves and the perpetrators.

My dad's book The King Rat and His Court: Lessons in Corporate Greed, doesn't let anyone off the hook, except the honest, hardworking employee and shareholder. In addition to exposing the rats, the book calls to mind many of the inherent contradictions that MBAs and law students alike must grapple with in today's corporate milieu. Here are a few that are on my mind:

• Free market capitalism is highly effective, but only coupled with integrity, respect for others, and a sense that actions, and risks, have consequences. As our finance professor used to say over and over, "there is no free lunch"...to be sure, if there is, then the free market is broken.
• While profit seeking and greed have very different connotations, they are almost certainly shackled together, and the rare individual holds the key to separate them. All MBAs seek profits, for themselves, their firms, and the various stakeholders in their lives, but are all MBAs greedy?
• Finally, if business is all about arbitrage--or more generally, finding and creating new opportunities for profit--then surely business is about shifting the market away from equilibrium, giving one player or a group of players an advantage, or taking from one to feed another. Thus, businesses engage in price gouging, monopolizing, lobbying, and strangling the competition. What's up, SEC?

Hopefully my dad's book will put some of these issues to rest...or at least spark more questions. I'll be sure to let you know when it's available on Amazon.

BOOM shakalaka

Earlier this week I attended BOOM (Bits on our Minds), the Computing and Information Science Department's showcase of undergraduate technologies. Once I got over the fact that undergrad engineers look about 12 years old, I began talking to some of them about their creations. I saw robots, and 3D printers for food, green technologies, and of course, video games.

There was one aspect of the afternoon that stood out: it is really really fun to see things, and by things, I mean inventions. Even if the inventions are totally purposeless and will never meet the hands of a consumer, they represent progress, evolution, and to borrow a cast aside ideology from the Obama campaign--hope.

That business people often do not interact with things is odd. We interact with money, markets, customers, partners, debt, and equity, but we are not inventors and many of us have never built anything ourselves.

The truth is that making things is therapeutic. So, put away your yoga matt, fire your psychologist, and go make something, write something, or play a song on the piano. Those young, idealistic undergrads may well have a thing or two to teach us after all.

Coming Up for Air

There is a myth circulating the Johnson School that the first semester is the hardest, but I'm sitting here wondering what exactly folks mean when they say hard. First semester classes were challenging to be sure, but we were on a highly regulated schedule that ensured classes, assignments, and exams were coordinated such that the burden wasn't too much to bear.

This half semester has been a wholly different story. My class schedule extended into almost every weekend, such that 6 days a week, the light coming through the ceiling of the Atrium was the only light I saw. But classes were just the beginning...add in clubs, BRV, interviews for summer internships, associated travel, various entrepreneurial activities, and, oh yes, Thursday night bowling, and the result has been very little sleep and the inability to prioritize the things that are most important, like calling my mom and dad and my equally busy brother. I try to keep perspective and allocate time accordingly, but of late, I've even begun to neglect this, my beloved blog (and by beloved, I mean that I take great pleasure in writing it).

Clint Sidle, the leadership guru at the Johnson School, once told me very simply that all-too-often people sideline themselves. They look externally, recognize life is difficult, find particular industries impenetrable, companies too competitive, risks too great, or activities too time consuming or mentally strenuous. So, they simply bow out. They sit on the sideline and watch the team play. They take a job at their third or fourth choice company or even industry. They take the wrong immersion or the wrong classes or they don't throw their hat into the ring for an elected position.

The problem herein is that the individuals who get the big jobs or start the cool companies or become elected officials are often not the best people for those jobs--they are not the most ethical or passionate or intelligent, they simply have the biggest egos or they've got nothing to lose or they are shameless. Of course, one has to be a realist too, right?

Like everything, it depends on individual circumstances, but in the end, I believe that being a bit unrealistic--building that castle in the clouds--is the way to go. And as long as my family remains the most important thing to me, I think I'll be just fine.

Valentines and Butterflies

For the first half of the year, the walls of Sage Hall were impenetrable. The world outside virtually didn't exist, and conversations revolved almost exclusively around core classes and impending job searches.

Times have changed. The Immersion program, although segregating, has enabled a certain depth of knowledge and practical experience. But there's more. I've begun exploring some of the research produced by the truly great minds of the Cornell community--the engineers.

Let's face it, business is just a tool--a mechanism to bring products to market and keep capital in the system. It's not magic, though it can be highly creative. The real innovation happens well before commerce is even relevant. The amazing thing about Cornell is that the University manages to produce some of the greatest science and technology in the world, in a wholly unpretentious way. CCTEC, the University's technology transfer office, opens its arms to MBAs, professors are supportive, and engineers are willing and excited to share their research. In a world where doors are constantly closed on young entrepreneurs and where individuals sideline themselves all-too-often, this dynamic is truly breathtaking.

When we were little kids we used to decorate shoe boxes and make cute valentines out of doilies for all the other kids in our class. A couple decades later, this kind of trade has changed slightly, but the spirit remains the same. When I learn about an exciting technology, I literally get butterflies. And then there is the unritualized, awkward process of putting myself out there, making sure there's chemistry, and finding a common goal. Truth be told, sometimes you get a valentine back and sometimes you don't. Regardless, the process is heartening.

Here we go Steelers!

I'm not a huge sports fan, but I do know all the rules, have some knowledge of the players, and enjoy the big games (thanks to my dad and brother). The Steelers have made it to the Super Bowl once again, and they are undeniably a very special franchise.

Take for example, the number of Steelers' bars outside of Pittsburgh--3000 miles away in San Francisco, there are at least two, and they are packed, body to body, for every game. Pittsburghers love their team and their players, but even people who have no association with the city have sentimental feelings towards the Steelers.

The keen eye of an MBA student should notice that this is more than just a beloved sports team...it's an incredible business proposition. If management, employees, shareholders, and towns were as devoted to their companies as they are to their sports teams, they would crush the competition every time.

One of the things my dad writes about in his book (which will be available soon) is that fragmented ownership can be disastrous for a company. In other words, managers must be accountable to someone who has access to information and has the best interest of the company at heart. Over the years, the Steelers have had the kind of devoted ownership that has served the team and the community. The owners instilled a sense of dedication that has inspired coaches, players and fans alike. Even the fickle media loves the Steelers.

In a horrendous economy, Dan Rooney and his son, Art, negotiated a deal to bring on new investors that would enable the family to maintain ownership of the Steelers. At a time when other owners would have sold out, the Rooney's seemed to understand the meaning of devoted ownership. In Pittsburgh, after all, football is not just a game; it's a way of life.

Turning a Corner

Ethics is a far more subtle phenomenon than most people would like to think. We tend to compartmentalize our world and in doing so, we regard leaders as clearly ethical or obviously unethical. In hindsight, we always point to overt ethical missteps and say, "how did the SEC miss that?" or "why didn't someone blow the whistle?" But the reality is that most ethical issues aren't grand or seemingly significant enough for individuals to pause and consider them.

We are lumbering through on-campus interviews for summer internships this month, and one common behavioral question is "Tell me about a time you faced an unethical situation." I don't know what other people say when they get this question, but I imagine many are hard-pressed to think of a situation they are comfortable talking about, if they can think of anything at all. This, I would argue, is because overtly unethical (and usually illegal) activity, even though perpetrated by someone else, is highly embarrassing and difficult to talk about in an interview, and subtle unethical behavior, the kind we are surrounded by, day in and day out, often goes entirely without notice.

For instance, slacking off is unethical--when an individual doesn't pull his or her weight, someone else has to fill in the gap or the business suffers. This is true of team projects here at business school and it's certainly true in the real world. Start-ups have very little tolerance for poor performers, and one or two really bad apples can lead to the dissolution of the entire firm.

Last week in my Entrepreneurship and Private Equity class, we discussed the management and organization of high-growth businesses. One feature of the CEO's position that Professor BenDaniel astutely pointed out is that the CEO is the role model to which every employee responds. People come into the office based on when the CEO comes in, they limit expenses during travel based on the CEO's example, and they even treat their colleagues with a similar degree of kindness and respect as the CEO exhibits towards them. What is so remarkable about this phenomenon is that individuals aren't inherently ethical or unethical--they are inherently malleable.

For the most part, no one is even conscious of how they are being influenced or whether their behavior is ethical. In the beautiful words of C.S. Lewis: "The moment of his consent almost escaped his notice; certainly, there was no struggle, no sense of turning a corner. There may have been a time in the world's history when such moments fully revealed their gravity...But for him, it all slipped past in a chatter of laughter, of that intimate laughter among fellow professionals, which of all earthly powers is strongest to make men do very bad things before they are yet, individually, very bad men," [That Hideous Strength].

The Other Side of the Table

From the moment I stepped into the real world, I began to develop a profound interest in making, marketing, and selling products. And as I try to decipher a career path in the bombarding cloud of finance, consulting, marketing and general management opportunities presented to MBAs, I realize more and more that products--real, discrete, tangible, usable, products--are what matter most to me.

Yesterday, two of my peers and I headed to the lab of a local start-up to evaluate the company for Big Red Ventures, the Johnson School's student-run venture fund. Meeting with the entrepreneurs and seeing the technology first hand went a long way in demonstrating what the company is all about--something that words and numbers on paper really can't do. One of the most interesting aspects of the experience for me was seeing what it's like to sit on the other side of the table. For once, I was the one evaluating the company from the outside, looking in. The product was not mine to market or to sell, but only to touch and feel (and consider for funding).

I can see why so many people want to be venture capitalists--ostensibly it's a pretty sexy job and there's a great deal of power in it. The venture capitalist is the gatekeeper of new technologies, particularly the capital intensive ones. As a country, we hope our VCs are on the ball, lest another country fund better projects and steal our innovative edge right out from under us.

I think that on the whole people believe that the great products and inventions will somehow find a way to the market, in spite of the system, but that is far too optimistic. Great technologies are born and die all the time because they can't reach their markets--either because the capital isn't in place to get them there, or because the people that created them simply don't have the wherewithal to market them adequately.

In part, I guess that's my entrepreneurial aspiration--to make sure that the products I believe in get a fair shot at the market that would want them and need them, if only it knew of their existence, had easy access to them, and trusted in their longevity.

My Kind of Town

Love of a city is a special kind of love. For some, it can be as powerful as love for another human being. People long for their cities when they are separated for too long; they reminisce about their cities when they are in other cities; and they gloat about them, as if they are proud parents.

I spent the past week in Chicago with four of my friends from the Johnson School. We picked Chicago as our destination almost at random--our only criterion was to be in an exciting place, where hot spots and history abound. I also had the good fortune of seeing my two best friends from high school, who live there now, and they showed us some of the magic of their city.

As MBAs, most people have two main questions lingering in their minds with everything they do: what company do I want to work for; and where is that company located. Some of us are driven by the need to try someplace new--to keep ramblin' on. Others seek their hometowns and proximity to family and friends. Most of us, given the flexibility, will ultimately follow the job of our dreams to whatever promised land it forces upon us. Lucky for us, it's far easier to fall in love with a city than with a person. Cities take us in, accommodate us with restaurants and nightlife, relax us with bookstores and coffee shops, fuel our minds with history, music, and art--and they all do it so well and so differently.

We had so much fun in Chicago and it's hard to say whether it was because of Chicago--jazz at the Green Mill, watching the Bulls lose, improv in Wrigleyville, limitless sushi, the list goes on--or because of the people I was there with. My guess is a bit of both, but mostly the people.