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Back to Where He Once Belonged
A returning alumnus reflects on the road to MBA Pre-Term.
By Obinna Obilo, W '04, WG'08
In retrospect, I always knew
that I'd be back.
On my graduation day in 2004, I
found myself in a good place. I had
a full-time job locked up. I had made
more lifelong friends than I ever thought
possible. The accomplishments, the
parties, the laughs, the lessons learned
flooded my mind like a muddled mass
of bittersweet memories. I had done
everything I had set out to do and
more. now I was finished. I was leaving.
However, as I donned my regalia and
marched with thousands of other faces
down Locust Walk, the one thought that
dominated my thoughts was the hope
that my name would be pronounced
correctly at the graduation ceremony.
Obinna Chimaobim Obilo doesn't exactly
roll off most tongues so easily.
When my official diploma arrived in
the mail that summer, I was left feeling
both satisfied and annoyed. On one hand,
the latin inscriptions on the parchment
symbolized the fact that I had arrived, that
I was a graduate. On the other hand, my
father made what I felt at the time was
an irritating gaffe when he ordered my
diploma frame. He had purchased an ornate
frame from the school that included two
windows—one for the diploma and one
for a fancy sketch of the campus—but
failed to order the sketch, leaving the
overall image incomplete.
Since that time, I have developed
the theory that perhaps my dad did not
make a mistake after all. It might just
be possible that he was actually making the subtle point that he wanted me
to further my education at some point
to complete the picture myself (I've yet
to ask him, but if this turns out to be
the case then touche, old man, touche).
In august 2004, I relocated to
Washington, D.C. to work for Fannie Mae.
During my analyst rotational experience
I had the opportunity to work on several
exciting and innovative projects,
especially in relation to the company's
domestic
homeownership initiatives.
I knew that for as much as I enjoyed
being at Fannie mae, my career aspirations
lay beyond the scope of the mortgage industry
or even domestic financial services.
my long-term career goal is to merge my
personal and professional endeavors
through international development
initiatives. Specifically, I want to focus on
financial services and strategic
management for entrepreneurs and businesses in
emerging markets and particularly West
africa. Somewhere in the career mental
planning process, the MBA bug bit me.
amazing right? not even a full two years
out of school and I was already back on
nerd auto-pilot, clamoring for more.
As I began to review and then apply to graduate programs, Wharton grad
remained at the top of my list. Even
though i had been through the undergraduate curriculum, I was more than
impressed with the nuances of the Wharton
graduate program—even in comparison
to the other top programs. I became
increasingly enamored with Wharton's clear
global reach, the extent of which I found
truly unique. my only worry was if the
school would choose to have me back.
And then it happened. march 16,
2006, the release date for admits, a.k.a.
"Wharton armageddon." I remember
pensively poring through the
work deliverables while constantly flipping to
my Yahoo personal account for any and
all updates. after waiting "patiently"
for 15 minutes (or roughly 2,250
hyper-rhythmic heartbeats) past the scheduled
admissions status release, I went to the
application website to see if my fate
had been revealed. upon logging into
the system, I was greeted with the note:
"Congratulations, you have
been accepted into the Wharton Class of 2008."
no buffer from the truth, no additional
buttons to click. In very anticlimactic
fashion, I was a Wharton admit again.
I was back inside The Matrix. I celebrated by bouncing up and down in
my cubicle, banging my fist against my
heart, and lifting my pointer fingers
skyward like I had just been handed
the larry O'Brien Trophy from NBA
Commissioner David Stern. Then, after
two minutes, I realized how much work
I still had to complete—and how much
my chest hurt from the exuberant celebration—and decided to call
my family to tell them the good news and then
dive right back into my deliverables.
Thankfully, I have had plenty of occasions
to celebrate my admission and
subsequent matriculation to Wharton. I
have received countless pieces of mail
and even more e-mails. I am still trying
to sort through the enormous quantity
and quality of information and
resources available to the Wharton graduate
population. I also received my first bill
of many from the university, prompting
my parents—who thankfully financed
my undergraduate education—to
laugh uncontrollably when I complained
about how much I would end up owing
the school.
Back to School
Last but not least, I finally packed my
belongings and left the green pastures of
D.C. for the not-so-green pastures of my
new apartment in West Philadelphia. One
U-Haul truck and a near-herniated disc
later, I have settled into the two-bedroom
brownstone I share with a friend and
fellow Penn alum. moving is never fun and
leaving D.C. was surprisingly harder than I
initially could've imagined two years ago,
but those feelings have been supplanted
by the palpable feeling of comfort I get
from returning to my second home.
The grads have since completed
Pre-Term, a smorgasbord of activity in
which I crammed to learn or relearn basic
business theory and fundamentals,
hundreds of names, and the addresses
of various bars over the course of four
weeks that felt like four months. Both
my brain and my liver can attest to
the effects of this whirlwind, for better
or worse. I had to frequently stop and
check my pulse, the calendar, and (most
importantly) my bank account, and I
was honestly shocked each time I did.
One of the big highlights during
Pre-Term was the leadership Retreat,
held at "rustic" Camp iroquois Springs
in Catskills, NY—so rustic, in fact, that
the toilet paper was literally half-ply.
about the only thing i knew about the
Catskills prior to the retreat was that it
was once home to "iron" Mike Tyson,
which I'm sure hasn't exactly been the
strongest selling point since the early
1990s. However, the locale was ideally
suited for team building exercises we
went through over the two-day excursion.
The main takeaway from this
retreat was how inspiring it was to be
surrounded by and bonding with classmates and peers who will be leaders of
commerce and champions of the economy in the not-so-distant future.
About the only thing that dampened
our spirits (and our clothes) was the
constant downpour that kept us mostly
indoors for the first day of the retreat.
The silver lining was that the time indoors
gave my cohort, and especially
my learning team, the chance to truly bond and
thoughtfully reflect on how we would
work together over the next year in order
to achieve success. The retreat allowed
me to develop an even greater appreciation
for the unique and diverse thoughts,
experiences, and backgrounds of each of
my cohort-mates. additionally, I was
awe-struck and humbled by
some of the obstacles that other individuals
had overcome
in order to eventually find themselves in
our class. Some of my classmates already
stand as role models I hope in some facet
to emulate going forward.
This is what the last year
13 months—from taking the GMAT to
writing
essays to interviewing—has finally
translated into. Prep time is over and
the regular season is finally here for
Wharton grads and everyone else. and
now here I am. a few years older than
when I left. Supposedly a "seasoned"
veteran, but without question more
cognizant of and/or jaded by the real
world than before. Once again
identifiable by my student ID number and
Wharton e-mail address. Still the same
handsome, funny, and intelligent guy.
Back, yet again, for the first time.
Just like that, fall semester is about
to start. The campus is once again
bustling. Doe-eyed freshmen are once
again lost or wandering in packs of 50.
The food trucks that take the summer
off are returning to reclaim their spots
on Spruce or 38th Street.
As I make my final runs to the
bookstore for supplies and textbooks;
as I meander through Jon M. Huntsman
Hall or up and down Locust Walk; as
I bid and auction for courses and prepare for the next two years, I still find
myself amazed and surprised that I'm a
Wharton student again. But in a way I'm
not surprised at all and—knowing my
heart and looking at that diploma
frame—perhaps I never should have been.
as I said before, I always knew I'd
be back.
Obinna Obilo, W'04, WG'08, is the
author of a collection of poetry called
Within This Welded Spirit.
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