So you belled the CAT and ran amuck,
Got your future with a B-school stuck.
Waltz in; you did, to try your dumb luck,
So swollen with pride, your shirt untucked!
Back to books, not really to the grind,
Because you are here only to find:
A way out and into the moolah-world—
The place where dumber asses twirl.
The equations shrunk to unit degrees.
Straight lines in graphs always increase;
It doesn’t matter what the Y-axis is:
Profit or Loss, Product buzz or fizz.
Matrices never more than two by two,
Ah! When did you ever have a clue?!
Dreaming bright stars whether night or day,
You surely have become an MBA.
You have no domain expertise.
Dude! You can’t even tell butter from cheese.
All you know are these 4 Ps:
Please, Please, Oh… Pretty Please…!
Reading lines off PPT slides:
Making presentations to sleepy eyes.
That ill-fitting suit is now your uniform,
Do you even know the meaning of “brainstorm”?
Always searching for a bigger fish,
Never have you innovated even a dish!
Solving case studies is your dying wish:
The internet your wand, flick and swish.
Honeymoon’s over, fortune seems bleak,
Can you stifle that final shriek?
Plans of rosy roses and the sun’s bright ray!?
You tow your future into major disarray.
For many years you ran after pretty lasses,
Turned down each time by glowing faces.
Feeling the pinch, you removed the ugly braces.
Vowing to find a way to win those fast races.
Hence an MBA and an eligible bachelor?
But, while you walk around town in that uniform,
From towers and posts, nubile girls holler:
“Lo! There goes the Fraud Scholar!”
