what I wish I knew before getting an MBA

the not-so-Instagrammable truths behind business school’s highlight reel.

After five years, starting with my MLT application in 2020 and ending with my graduation this May, the MBA chapter is officially closed. It’s been a long journey filled with unexpected pivots, hard-won clarity, and more growth than I could’ve anticipated.

As I turn the page, I wanted to leave behind the kind of reflection I wish I had before I started. Not the curated talking points you’ll find on admissions websites, and not the jaded, unfiltered rants you might scroll past on r/mba, but the real, nuanced lessons that come from actually living through it. The kind of things people usually don’t say until much later…if at all.

This is probably the last time I’ll go this in-depth on business school, so if you’re heading down this path (or just curious about what it’s really like), I hope you enjoy.

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Is the MBA for You?

Take everyone’s advice with a grain of salt.
People tend to talk about their MBA experience in extremes: either it changed their life or it was the worst decision they ever made. What they usually don’t mention is how much of that depends on who they were when they arrived. Their personality, goals, social style, even their pre-MBA job satisfaction; all of it colors how they experienced school.

I remember talking to multiple HBS alumni who raved about their time here—how they met their lifelong best friends, their spouses, their entire bridal parties. One person told me business school was the best two years of their life. Later, I found out he was president of the Student Association.

Of course he had a great time. He was everywhere.

On the flip side, I’ve also met people who finished business school and felt like it wasn’t worth it. Often, they were sponsored by a previous employer or came in with no real desire to pivot. Others had worked in niche areas of finance that were thriving pre-MBA but became much harder to re-enter in recent years. Others did manage to return to their old roles, but found that their former peers had been promoted ahead of them while they were in school. In those cases, it felt less like a leap forward and more like pressing pause while everyone else kept moving.

But something I’ve heard from many alumni is that the real benefits of business school don’t always show up right away. It can take years to fully realize what you walked away with, especially as you grow into more senior roles where leadership, judgment, and communication matter just as much as technical skills. You leave business school still relatively early in your career, and it’s easy to forget that the person you are now may not fully match the protagonist you read about in cases. That part comes later.

None of these experiences are wrong. But they do highlight a bigger truth: your MBA experience is going to reflect who you are, what you came for, and how much you’re willing or needing to change.

It’s not a chill break. It’s a sabbatical from your old life.
When you’re on the outside looking in, it’s easy to think business school is a two-year vacation. You scroll through Instagram and see yacht parties, international trips, neon ski gear, and sunset dinners. It looks like the ultimate break from reality, and in some ways, it is. You’re not working full-time. You’re traveling more. You have more control over your schedule.

But it’s not a chill vacation.

It’s a break from your pre-MBA job, not from pressure. Behind the scenes, most people are juggling recruiting events, team projects, academic prep, club leadership roles, travel logistics, social obligations, and the unspoken pressure to be doing everything, all at once. You’re constantly managing trade-offs between sleep and social life, between studying and sanity.

It’s more accurate to call it a sabbatical: you’re stepping away from one version of yourself to explore another. But that exploration is often tiring, even when it’s exciting.

So yes, it’s a break. But don’t confuse that with rest.

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Academics

Grades do matter.
One of the most repeated phrases you'll hear is that “grades don’t matter” in business school. People say it so casually that it starts to feel like gospel. And while that might be true for some, it’s not true for everyone.

I came in with a solid enough quant background; I clearly did well enough on the GMAT to get in, but I wasn’t coming from a finance-heavy role. So when classes ramped up, I wasn’t exactly coasting. Meanwhile, I’d hear from classmates who had worked in finance pre-MBA, who could breeze through those courses with minimal effort. That doesn’t mean they were smarter. It just means they’d seen this content before.

It goes back to what I said earlier: take everyone’s advice with a grain of salt. Everyone starts from a different place. And if you’re pivoting into a new field, especially something like private equity or investment banking, and you don’t have a finance foundation, you’re going to have to approach academics differently. That means doing the background readings, office hours, practice problems, and yes, putting in the kind of effort that probably reminds you of undergrad.

But that’s the point: it’s not a level playing field. And the people who say “grades don’t matter” often fall into one of two camps: they either already know the material or they don’t care about that subject. So before you internalize that advice, ask yourself: what are my goals? What’s my starting point? And am I actually okay with “coasting” in this area?

Because if the answer is no, then you’re going to need to show up differently. And that’s okay.

Have the audacity. Speak up.
In a case method environment, your grade can depend entirely on whether you find the courage to raise your hand. And when you're unsure, it’s tempting to stay quiet. But that hesitation of “I don’t think this is insightful enough” can cost you.

Some of my most well-received comments were things I almost didn’t say because I thought they were obvious. But what’s obvious to you might be exactly what someone else needs to hear. The best case comments aren’t always complex—they’re clear, relevant, and real.

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Social Life

Authentic friendships > transactional ones.
My first year, following my alumni mentors’ advice, I indexed on building relationships and networking. I went on 12 trips (most of them international), showed up to every social event, and pushed myself to “do all the things.” On Instagram, it looked fabulous. I have stories to last a lifetime! But it was draining. I was constantly out of my comfort zone, trying to fit into a version of myself that I felt that I needed to be to feel accepted.

It wasn’t until later that I realized: if I build friendships in environments that feel off-brand (like ten days on a yacht in Croatia with strangers), I shouldn’t be surprised if those friendships don’t last. They weren’t built on alignment; they were built on momentum.

And in places like HBS, where prestige is in the air and people casually mention their household-name family business, it’s easy to overthink who you should “be close” to. But real connection doesn’t care about resume lines. You’ll thank yourself later if you treat people like people and focus on mutual respect, not clout.

Don’t let FOMO rule your life.
There’s an unspoken current in business school that tells you to say yes to everything. The parties, the trips, the happy hours, the random mixers with companies you’re not even interested in, it all feels like part of “making the most of your MBA.” And even if you’re extroverted, it’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking you need to be more social, more visible, more out there.

I definitely felt that. I kept comparing myself to friends who seemed to thrive on being everywhere at once. And on the surface, it looked effortless. But behind the scenes? It was chaos.

Take Black Ski Weekend, for example. My friends and I had class from 9 AM to 3 PM, then rushed to catch a 6 PM flight from Boston to Salt Lake City. We landed around midnight Eastern, dropped our bags at the ski cabin, and by 1 or 2 AM ET, people were ready to head to the kickoff party like it was nothing. I remember sitting there thinking, Why are we doing this? Why are we pretending that this is normal?

But in hindsight, I get it. People push themselves to the limit in business school because they think this might be their one shot. Their last chance to make potential investor connections, to find the love of their life, to network their way into a dream job. And when that kind of pressure is in the air, people will do almost anything: say yes to every invite, spend thousands on a last-minute trip, run their bodies into the ground, because what if this is the moment that changes everything?

That kind of drive can be admirable. But only when it’s aimed at something that genuinely matters to you. You can’t run yourself ragged for every opportunity just because it exists. Not everything is worth that kind of energy.

Here’s what I wish I’d internalized sooner: growth is good. Stretching yourself is good. But not everything is worth your time just because it’s happening. Say yes when it aligns with your goals or your joy. Say no when it doesn’t.

FOMO is loud at places in business school. But it doesn’t get to be in charge.

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Mental & Emotional Well-Being

You can do it all, but not all at once
Many people gain weight, get less sleep, or abandon hobbies for two years and hope to course correct after. That might be the norm, but it doesn’t have to be your norm. While you can’t optimize for everything at once, you can shift your focus over time.

What helped me was giving each term a theme. Maybe first semester is about building community and keeping up academically, while second semester is about prioritizing your job search and getting your health back on track. Be intentional about what you’re sacrificing, and for how long. Ideally, you should habit stack, or find ways to combine activities, like listen to cases while working out or cooking dinner.

Everyone’s struggling. Even the ones who look like they’re not.
Of course, not everyone takes that intentional approach. Some try to do it all, and on the outside, it looks like they’re succeeding. But the reality beneath the surface is often vastly different. For example, I took a leadership development class where, in addition to weekly classes, we were placed in small groups of 4-5 people and met regularly to reflect on our lives: what shaped us, what scared us, what we were carrying underneath the surface. And that’s where the cracks started to show, in the best possible way.

One classmate, on track to graduate as a Baker Scholar, confessed that he dreaded talking to his so-called friends, because every conversation turned into a subtle competition: who had the most prestigious job offer, who was heading to the biggest PE fund, who could drop the most impressive name. He was managing intense anxiety and, actively avoided “HBS people”. But no one would’ve known. From the outside, he was excelling.

Then there was the extroverted startup founder. The one who seemed to be at every party, who knew everyone’s name. He admitted that he often felt completely alone in a room full of people. That if he stopped showing up to social events, no one would even notice. He said it so casually, but I never forgot it.

These weren’t people “struggling to keep up.” They were the ones leading the pack. And still, they felt hollow, isolated, unsure of their worth when the performance ended.

That experience changed me. Because in most parts of business school, vulnerability is buried beneath the pressure to be impressive. Everyone’s posting the win, playing it cool, acting like they’ve figured it all out. And if you’re not careful, you start to believe that you’re the only one who hasn’t.

You’re not.

And just because no one else is saying it doesn’t mean they’re not feeling it too.

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I don’t regret coming to business school for one second. Like any transformative experience, it’s helped me get closer to becoming the person I’ve always aspired to be. But I do wish I had known how much of this experience would be about filtering out the noise and how much of it would require self-trust, self-advocacy, and the quiet courage to do it your way.

If you’re on your way to school this fall, I hope you find pockets of truth that make the next two years your own. Cheers!