Home for the Holidays

What a shocker to visit family over the Thanskgiving holiday only to discover that we need to leave the HBS bubble a little more often to keep a grip on reality. Here’s a snapshot of likely dinner conversations in light of the recent RC caseload:

“No, mom, a discount rate is not a price reduction at GAP. It’s really just some convoluted formula derived from a myriad of indecipherable Greek characters, which can be subverted with clever Excel manipulation.”
“Um, Uncle Earl sure is the bottleneck at this table with his insistence on taking small spoonfuls of stuffing at a time.”

“Wow! Some Australian meat processor sure could automate this whole turkey carving nonsense!”

“The days of People Express are thankfully gone, but I can’t help to wonder whether the mechanic on this JetBlue flight is cross-trained as a reservations agent, caterer, and steward as part of some flat-hierarchy organizational structure. Scary.”

“My boyfriend better send a stellar Calyx and Corolla bouquet or Black Monday will hit him like a ton of bricks.”

“Boy, those Spangler leather sofas sure are nicer than grandma’s tired orange velour couch.”

“I just realized that I can be in Manhattan peering from one Starbucks into another one located across the street, yet this behemoth company hasn’t yet figured out how to locate a store within decent proximity to 1,800 caffeine-addicted students with a seemingly endless supply of Citibank Monopoly money.”

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