In an earlier blog post, I argued that many MBA applicants—often with the help of MBA admissions consultants—have “over-managed” their MBA essays and sucked much of the soul out of their applications. If you know anything about human nature (or the insane workload of MBA admissions committees) you probably realize that soulless MBA essays will probably get you nowhere, unless you’re an otherwise perfect MBA candidate.
(But if you’re pretty much a perfect MBA candidate, why are you wasting your time reading this blog? Shouldn’t you be doing something completely perfectly amazing and superhuman right now?)
For those of you who aren’t superhuman, I’m convinced that it’s absolutely critical to sound passionate about your business pursuits in your MBA applications, regardless of whether you’re writing about past successes or future goals. Fundamentally, MBA applications are a test of your ability to market the product you presumably know best: yourself. If you can’t convince an MBA admissions committee that your career will reach exciting new heights post-MBA, why should anybody offer you a coveted spot at an elite business school?
This is particularly true for aspiring entrepreneurs or anybody who runs a family business. If you can’t get us excited about your future plans in a 400-word MBA essay “elevator pitch,” it’s hard to believe that you’ll ever succeed in getting investors or customers excited about your company. If you plan to start a business—or want to continue running your existing business—you’ll be doomed to failure if you can’t get investors, employees, and customers to buy into your product. And why would any elite MBA program want to admit a passionless, unconvincing wannabe entrepreneur?
So if you’re an entrepreneurial sort and you’ve already written drafts of your essays, you’re probably wondering: are your essays convincing and passionate, or generic and soulless? And how can you tell?
As luck would have it, I’ve developed a simple, high-calorie tool for determining whether your business ideas are compelling enough for your MBA application. I call it the International House of Pancakes test, because I really like breakfast.
Here’s how it works: if you’ve already used the name of your company in your essays, replace the name with “International House of Pancakes.” If the essay still makes sense, you’ve probably written an essay turd. Your essay needs to capture your excitement for your specific industry and your particular company; if you replace the name of the company with a restaurant name, you should get complete nonsense. (Unless, of course, you’re actually planning to run a restaurant. In that case, I know a guy who is really, really great at testing menu items.)
To illustrate the International House of Pancakes test, here’s a real draft of an essay written by one of my favorite students (let’s call her Ms. ERP, since that’s the best-sounding word in the excerpt below), with the name of the school removed to protect her privacy:
Upon graduation from [an MBA program], my short-term goal is to manage operations for the International House of Pancakes Group – the $16 million chain wholly owned by my family. With our proprietary SMARTE training program, internally built ERP software, and strong reputation in Canada, I am excited about helping the International House of Pancakes reach its full growth potential. As the COO, my initial priorities would be to improve International House of Pancakes’ day-to-day operations and to expand our presence in the Middle Eastern and Asian markets. Since the profitability of our Canadian locations is declining due to rising costs resulting from government intervention, I need to streamline our organizational infrastructure so our company can grow internationally and with measured risk. I would continue to identify potential areas for investment, lead negotiations with potential partners and suppliers, and manage new initiatives.
The paragraph is dry and clinical, but it still makes sense, right? And that’s a huge problem. The essay was supposed to be about her family’s business in the education industry. Honestly, it really is an innovative, interesting firm that could plausibly be wildly successful on several continents. But you definitely wouldn’t know that from reading this essay. There’s no life to it, no vivid description of her work, and absolutely no hint of passion for her company or industry.
Right now, you might be chuckling at poor Ms. ERP: “Ha ha ha! That silly Ms. ERP! I would never do that in my own essays! I love what I do, and it shows in my MBA essays!”
Oh yeah? Try swapping out the company name in your essays, and see if it still works. You might be surprised: it’s shockingly easy to let your MBA application essays devolve into generic, vapid corporate-speak, no matter how geeked up you actually are about your career.
The story ends well for Ms. ERP. After I sent her the International House of Pancakes version of her essay, she cursed loudly and showed my handiwork to her father, who laughed and said that I was a jerk and that he really liked me. Ms. ERP then revised her essay to paint a vivid, energetic picture of her family business, and she now attends a super-elite U.S. business school, despite a GMAT score in the mid-600s. But she has, unfortunately, maintained an aversion to pancakes to this day.