Starting an MBA not without its moments

For years I believed anyone with an MBA qualification was generally afforded something akin to Master of the Universe status, as admiring peers spoke in hushed tones about their exceptional capabilities. It was only when some friends, who until then had failed to demonstrate any God-like qualities, managed to attain their MBAs that I realised even mere mortals could do this thing.

So when my employers decided they would like to sponsor an MBA, it didn't take me long to apply. For nearly three years I had worked as a business journalist focusing on the technology industry, and during that time had met scores of bright and brilliant people.

As a relative newcomer to the world of technology there was a great deal I needed to pick up along the way, and there was never any shortage of patient, articulate people to help me out.

In many cases these were the heads of start-up companies who not only had the tech savvy to come up with a product people would buy, but also displayed the business acumen to make the idea practicable.

Many had honed their business skills at graduate school, either part-time or by night, and what always struck me was their immense clarity of vision, and ability to nail down objectives - even if that included persuading me to write about them. Now as I embark on a full-time MBA programme at the Smurfit Graduate School of Business in Dublin, I am hopeful a year of intensive grounding in business principles will confer me with some of the business attributes I have long admired in others. Getting here has not been without its moments, the most significant being the ghastly GMAT exam. The international Graduate Management Admission Test, is a test of mental rigour designed by intellectual perverts who imagine an individual's intellectual capabilities can be measured in a four hour sitting.

It assesses the candidate's verbal and quantitative capabilities. While the verbal posed no major problems, the quantitative involved a trip down memory lane to Leaving Cert maths. Memory lane, however, had long since turned its back on the cul-de-sac where maths talent resided, and the grey cells were forced to work overtime on real brain wreckers like the following:

Jack is now 14 years older than Bill. If in 10 years Jack will be twice as old as Bill, how old will Jack be in five years? With less than two minutes to find the solution, I fantasised that Jack would have more immediately pressing concerns than figuring what age he would be in five years if I ever got my hands on him. Unsurprisingly, I did not emerge a maths genius second time around, but the exercise did offer a revealing glimpse of some of the intellectual gymnastics that lie ahead. Perhaps cognizant of this, the powers that be at the Smurfit Business School ensure the first week or so is largely an orientation exercise to familiarise us with our surrounds and each other.

A former Trinity graduate, I brought all of my architectural snobbery to bear by expecting a continuation of the sprawling mundanity of another south Dublin university closely linked to the Smurfit Business School. I was pleasantly surprised.

The former Carysfort Teacher Training college comprises an impressive 19th century building, which has been tastefully renovated to make the test of mental endurance that lies ahead as comfortable as possible.

And if we needed further reminding of the college's clear commitment to learning over leisure pursuits, the former tennis courts have unofficially morphed into a car park, and the old sports hall is only used as an exam centre these days.

The first couple of days on campus were a massive meet-and-greet exercise. I constantly found myself wishing I had taken that awful Dale Carnegie book, How to win friends and influence people, seriously, as I failed yet again to remember the name of someone I had been introduced to hours earlier.

The class of more than 70, which is divided into two streams, is diverse in many respects. The average age is 35, and in excess of a quarter are international students from locations as far-flung as Armenia, Russia, the US, Australia, New Zealand and Italy.

What is most surprising is how few come from a finance or accounting background. There appears to be a preponderance of medics and engineers, with the odd concert manager or US police officer thrown in.

The apprehension about what lies ahead is almost palpable, and it is probably the only common thread holding us all together right now. Soon we will be put into teams where the responsibility lies with each member to contribute to the overall team score. By all accounts making the team work is key to a successful MBA year.

Maybe the strain of meeting - and potentially having to rely on - so many new people is taking its toll. Some people even activate an early introduction filter process to avoid wasting valuable time on the wrong people. It goes something like this: "Hi, I'm whoever. Are you full-time or part-time?" If the answer is full time, next question: "Stream One or Stream Two?" Now there's time management for you, one can only wonder once these people have been assigned their teams will we ever hear from them again. By the way, the answer to the teaser is 23.

This is the first in a series of regular articles by Madeleine Lyons on her MBA programme. The next will appear on Monday, November 6th.