True Life: I’m a College of Business Groupie

• Article by Merritt Rethlake
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• March 9, 2012
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• Iowa State

I’ve been struggling with my decision for four sad semesters now. Smart kids go into engineering. Smarter kids start out in the business program and stay in it. And the smartest kids start out in tough programs and make an easy transition into the business program. I did the opposite. I was once welcomed into that glistening, beautiful building with open arms. It’s a place where there’s no shortage of outlets or members of the Greek community. If I wasn’t taking advantage of my free printing in the computer labs, I was enjoying my free tenth cup of coffee from the café. But since I’ve changed my area of study, I now consider it a good day if my major’s main building hasn’t run out of Cool Ranch Doritos in the one vending machine we have.

So I’ll be the first to admit that I take up space in Gerdin on a daily basis. Do the business majors know that I don’t belong there? Probs. They see I don’t have my ducks lined up in a row and that I’m not getting much bang for my buck. So I’ll leave the buzzworthy conversations up to the big enchiladas, and they can judge me right back as I sit there with a look of complacency when they talk about paradigm shifts, win-win situations, and circling the wagon. 

Despite being surrounded by slacks and business jargon, I can’t excuse myself from the CoB. People smile and open doors for others. And there’s always the thought in the back of my head that I’ll run into Don Draper (or at least his supply of scotch) if I venture to the upstairs offices.  

It’s no wonder that I sit in front of those obnoxiously large windows, which, I’m convinced, were constructed for the sole purpose of judging the shit out of everyone who walks outside of them. I gawk at the non-business majors who walk by. Math and engineering majors, unable to get rid of that look on their face that constantly makes them look like they’re solving for x. Soon they will come to find that missing variable will always be women in their classes. Then the design majors strut by, lugging around their portfolios and mean mugging any non-Mac users they can see through the glass windows of Gerdin. Next come the ag majors, traveling in groups of 23 (when they can’t mount the rest of their posse up). And lastly, the LAS majors walk by dragging their feet because they know whatever career path they choose, they will never be able to pay off their student loans and will forever be purchasing ramen in bulk. Before the “Hah! You’re poor!” has a chance to come out of my mouth, I catch myself and realize that I am that LAS major. I’ll be in an eternal flavor debate between chicken or roasted chicken. 

So what have we non-business majors resorted to, you ask? The ever-popular business minor – the ranch dressing of collegiate studies. No one actually knows why having a minor in business is beneficial or why it’s so damn good, but it goes with everything. Let’s backtrack to those lowly groups we saw outside this corporate Mecca – Engineering: Tack on that general business minor. It will show that you can actually converse with other humans. Design: Oh hell yes. Pour it on. You can be business savvy too and will probably toss everyone’s shit when it comes to PowerPoint presentations. Agriculture: Yes ma’am. Nothing says business professional like boots, belt buckles and a brief understanding of the 5 P’s. 

Adding that business minor makes me feel like less of a groupie and more of a roadie. I’m actually contributing now. So if I ever get a questioning look from a CoB veteran, I head nod back with an expression that says, “Nah brah, no worries. I’m a general business minor.”