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MBA Journal: Year Two April 18, 2007, 5:38PM EST

Springtime in Seattle

"Now, in my final quarter, I plan to exhale. To reflect, study, and let everything sink in," says this University of Washington student

by Anne Ruybalid (Turchi)

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Anne Ruybalid (Turchi)
University of Washington
Class of 2007

William Stafford wrote, "So magic a time it was that I was both brave and afraid./Some day like this might save the world."

Stafford opens my Spring MBA Journal for a couple of reasons. First, the dramatic nature of springtime in Seattle has induced in me feelings of boundless possibility. The second is that this final quarter of my MBA has caused me to feel rather sentimental and earnest. Sentimental because the experience, which seems to have simultaneously taken both decades and seconds, will soon be over. Earnest because I can't come up with a single thing that I wanted it to help me accomplish that it hasn't.

Of the six quarters that comprised my University of Washington MBA experience, five have been a race to take in as much as possible—to try everything, to say "yes" until I was working from 7 a.m. to midnight, until I had filled every weeknight from January through March.

Now, in my final quarter, I plan to exhale. To reflect, study, and let everything sink in. To better understand the process of using what I've learned, as I will be called upon to do in a few months. And if I find that this reflection can be done more effectively with a vodka tonic in hand, in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon, so be it.

Yes, spring quarter is marked with Vodka Tuesdays, the trademark UW cherry blossoms, and my refusal to wear real shoes. Many of us have found jobs and are tailoring our spring quarter elective curriculum around the work wewill be doing in a few short months.

The Queue Solution

I'm working on an independent-study project with Dr. Leslie Breitner, an accounting professor at the UW Evans School of Public Affairs, where I will take a deeper look at the new field of Social Return on Investment. The business school allows us to take up to four elective classes in other graduate schools, which has helped to tailor my MBA to meet my goals in the nonprofit field. Only three days into the project, I've found this to be one of my most exciting academic endeavors yet.

This is not to diminish the sexiness of the MBA program's curriculum. Recently, with the help of Math Prof "Rock Star" Mark Hillier's Spreadsheet Modeling elective, I've rekindled my romance with queuing theory. In fact, I'm certain that a correct and clever application of queuing models could answer any question that exists today.

Ever visit a Web site? Stop at a red light? Look for a parking space? Buy a latte? Make a telephone call? Are you curious about why, even on the first day of classes at the UW, a 40,000-student institution, there's no line at the bookstore? The quality of your experience at any and all of these junctures is directly related to the quality of the spreadsheet jockey behind the computer working on the queuing models. I will be the first to nominate the person who runs the queuing model at the University of Washington bookstore for a Nobel prize. Yes, the MBA program has turned me into a complete and unapologetic nerd.

Battling Stereotypes

When my career-search dust settled, at the end of February, I found myself back in familiar territory: the YMCA. I've been grinning ever since. I'll be working with the Y of Greater Seattle, one of the greatest YMCA associations in the country. There, I will be using my MBA to develop data-driven decision-making processes, as well as partnerships, programs, and models.

This opportunity couldn't be more aligned with my pre-MBA goals. While not a typical MBA employer, the Seattle Y has shown tremendous faith in my assertion that an MBA-educated "Y person" has the potential to really help the organization innovate. It's this faith that compels me to prove that they're right. I came to business school because I saw opportunities for growth within the nonprofit world that I didn't know how to take advantage of. I wanted to explore new solutions to existing problems, then go back and help solve them. And this is just what I've been given the opportunity to do.

That's not to say my search was easy. As I've learned, in some circles, an MBA-stamped résumé is a liability. Just as for-profit businesses have been known to stereotype their nonprofit counterparts (inefficient, touchy-feely), nonprofits have done their share of stereotyping businesspeople (arrogant, superficial, entitled know-it-alls). Because of this, it takes practice to effectively toggle between the two worlds.

Exit Strategy

The truth is, one of the most refreshing aspects of the nonprofit world is the high value that its inhabitants place on humility. The trouble is, how do I convince a nonprofit agent of the immense value of hiring someone with an MBA (namely, moi), without coming across as an arrogant, entitled know-it-all?

My first attempt consisted of a two-year campaign to gently educate my Y comrades about the MBA's "unique value proposition." I talked about what I was learning and the useful applications of this knowledge within the Y. My second attempt, made in desperation as another offer from a public-sector consulting firm put a time constraint on my decision, came as a guerilla phone-calling campaign from people, both within and outside of the Y, who supported my goal.

In the end, whether it was the phone calls, the value proposition, or just the Seattle spring that opened the door for me, I have defined my exit strategy. History books may contradict it, but I would bet that at some point William Stafford graduated from an MBA program. The queue at the pub is short. Somebody's doing something right. Cheers to that.

Ruybalid is a member of the University of Washington's MBA class of 2007.

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