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The Day in the Life of a Carlson Douchebag

One of the most intriguing specimens to exist among us at the University of Minnesota is the Carlson School of Management student. Although business student sightings are rare outside of the glass confines of their fancy building, there are a few tell-tale ways to identify one. To understand how these individuals can consistently sustain such extreme levels of douchebaggery, it’s necessary to peek into an average day in the life of a typical Carlson student. 

7:30 a.m.
Roll out of bed to take your morning pee. Remind yourself that you piss excellence and bend over the toilet to take a whiff of pure gold.

8:00 a.m.
Harness your inner egomaniac before starting the day by worshipping the Steve Jobs shrine in your bedroom for 15 minutes.

8:45 a.m.
Put your suit on for your quiz later today worth 2% of the final grade. Dress well, test well is the code that you live by (plus anything less than professional attire is for plebeians).

9:30 a.m. 
Uber to class despite living just across the 10th Avenue Bridge from Carlson. The campus connector is for inferior beings, and you wouldn’t dare scuff up your dress shoes by walking.

9:45 a.m.
Pick up coffee from the Hanson Hall Starbucks. Demand a discount if the barista pronounces your name wrong. He should know who you are.

10:00 a.m.
Peruse Yahoo Finance for the latest stock market news. Your portfolio has been tanking for a solid year, but you’re not worried about it. You’ve never been wrong about anything, so you know it’ll bounce back soon.


10:30 a.m.
Raise your hand in class and talk for three minutes straight about synergy. Repeat that throughout the lecture every fifteen minutes. The sound of your own voice just gets you off.

12:00 p.m.
Eat Panda Express while chatting with a few classmates in the lunchroom. Remind them all that you scored a 31 on your ACT in high school.

1:00 p.m.
A non-Carlson peasant strolls past you on West Bank. Establish your dominance with the judgmental sneer and eye roll combo. Hiss at them if they come too close.

2:00 p.m.
Butt chug your afternoon Starbucks.

3:00 p.m.
Check your voicemail for job offers. There’s a big one from Cargill. Despite the $85,000 starting salary offer, you decide to ignore them for a few days and buy some time so you can pass that eventual drug test.

4:00 p.m.
Get home from class and complain to your CSE roommates about the Carlson curve even though it almost always keeps you from getting anything lower than a B.

5:00 p.m.
Spend the next two hours surfing LinkedIn and comment on a few posts. Write something using the words “collateral” or “leverage” if you get stumped but still want to sound smart.

7:00 p.m.
Bathroom break; wipe your ass with $20 bills.

8:00 p.m.
Visit the Rec in a cutoff because the rules don’t apply to you and everyone needs to witness the gun show. Stay away from any leg workouts for obvious reasons.

10:00 p.m.
Let your most recent Tinder match know that you’re in Carlson. They never asked about it and it’s already on your profile, but it’s better to follow up and let them know just in case.

10:45 p.m.
Let all the pent-up insecurities pour out and cry yourself to sleep. You live in the shadow of your older brother, Brent Hawthorne, who went to the Kellogg School of Management at Northwestern and works at Goldman Sachs. Father will always like him best.

Hopefully, this insight will guide you to understanding the douchebaggery of this species. And if you’re still unsure if you’re encountering one, just ask them if they’re in Carlson and they’ll tell you all about it. 

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