MB-Eish Part 2: Femgineer, tamed

**"Eish" is a South African slang term expressing surprise, dismay, anger or frustration.**

As I mentioned last year, I have joined the droves of engineers who have sold out to the dark side: Banking. To make myself more comfortable in my new, murky surrounds I have decided to do an MBA part-time. This is the second in a series of posts about my MBA experience.

I'm too tired to think.

Please do not have high expectations of being entertained as you read this post. I am suffering from an acute case of “sense-of-humour-failure”. There is no cynical point to be made with tongue deeply lodged in cheek. There are no quirky femgineering stories to share. There are no cutesy jibes at engineering jargon or Banking boredom. There is only exhaustion. If you’re a true fan you will keep reading anyway in the hope that this may get interesting. I apologise in advance if you are disappointed. There will be better posts again one day I’m sure...

Last weekend I watched a production of Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew at Maynardville open air theatre. (It’s one of those la-di-da Southern Suburbs Capetonian things I like to be part of every year.) If you've never watched the play the plot goes roughly like this: man marries feisty woman for her father's money. Man tortures feisty woman into tame submission through sleep deprivation, starvation and subtle humiliation. Woman finally submits and conforms to her husband’s - and society’s - expectations of her.

After what feels like a year at business school (but in reality is only 21 days), I can relate to this tale of torture. I've been at business school for nearly three weeks now. Emotionally, physically and mentally-speaking the fuel light is on. And I have the distinct feeling that I am being squeezed, pushed and prodded into tame submission by the school. (Warning: expect this blog to take on a different tone as the brainwashing ensues.)

In my first week I was forced to run.

Let's just pause there. Who enrolls at business school to run? To run around outdoors in the sun? To climb cargo nets and leopard-crawl through pipes? To pretend to like it? Apparently I do! In the name of “team building” with my syndicate group and greater MBA class, I put on my Summer Camp Face for a week. Being cheerful is draining in and of itself. Being cheerful while running? Grueling.

I was relieved when lectures began. Temporarily relieved. I expected to sit and listen, ask the occasional intelligent question and engage in the odd debate. But alas! There were classes purely built around digging into memories, emotions, values... and sharing them with people I’d known for less than two weeks. Once again, draining!

Adding to the fatigue, I've been doing work for The Bank - after hours, before class and during lunch - and trying to keep my head above the sea of MBA readings swelling up around me. Three weeks down the line I have had too many nights with minimal sleep, on average four hours. I have abandoned all efforts to eat healthily and have gravitated to my drug of choice: potato chips (“crisps” for the international audience). I could sleep for a week.

That is just the physical side. To get where I'm coming from emotionally and mentally, I need you to use your imagination. Imagine for a minute a world where play dough has feelings. Now imagine that play dough in the hands of a bouncy, bumbling brat. Imagine how that play dough would feel being pulled apart, stretched to breaking point, and squashed in that brat's sticky hands. Emotionally and intellectually I feel like play dough. As this first module draws to a close I feel like a half-formed creation molded by sticky academic hands – my brains hanging by a thread and my heart somewhere around my toes.

But for now... Best that I get on with panel-beating the dents out of my Game Face and catching up on sleep before I get back to work.