Dive into one of the most dynamic quarters at UCLA Anderson—where film school meets finance, study groups become lifelines, and late-night accounting classes with a rockstar professor redefine what an MBA can be.

Disclaimer

• All characters and events in this chapter —even those based on real people—are entirely fictional.
• The following chapters contain coarse language and situations and due to its content it should not be read by anyone.

Chapter 16 “The different kinds of MBAs”

The third quarter of business school brought with it an exciting opportunity—one I couldn’t pass up. UCLA’s prestigious Film School opened its doors to MBA students, offering a production course that promised a rare glimpse into the world of filmmaking. I signed up without hesitation.

The course was structured as a speaker series, with a different producer visiting each week to share their insights and experiences. But these weren’t just any producers—they were the masterminds behind Oscar-winning films and Hollywood blockbusters. Week after week, I sat in awe, absorbing every nugget of wisdom they offered, feeling like a kid let loose in a candy store.

At the heart of the course was Barbara Boyle, our main instructor. Barbara’s filmography was as extensive as it was impressive, and her wealth of experience made every class a treasure trove of knowledge.

Barbara’s generosity extended beyond the classroom. When a couple of friends from Mexico were preparing to release a film, she graciously agreed to meet with us at her beautiful office in the film school. She spent time reviewing the project, offering invaluable advice and industry pointers.

That meeting turned out to be more than just a one-off favor. Later that summer, I found myself working alongside the same friends during my internship—proof that connections made through the Anderson network could lead to unexpected collaborations down the road.

After the meeting, we went to a private screening in Santa Monica, where we previewed the film. The experience was exhilarating—a peek behind the curtain into the intricate process of film production.

As the quarter progressed, I initially signed up for an additional marketing class to stretch my academic horizons. But my enthusiasm quickly faded. The professor, a Chinese instructor with a heavy accent, made comprehension impossible. Even the simplest concepts felt out of reach.

Frustrated, I made the tough decision to drop the class. I reasoned that there was little point in struggling through material I couldn’t fully grasp. Instead, I shifted my focus to the five core courses already on my plate.

I later discovered I wasn’t alone. Many international students had faced similar struggles, grappling with language barriers or teaching styles that clashed with their learning preferences. Dropping a class here and there was more common than I had realized, a practical adjustment as we all tried to find our footing.

The start of the new quarter also meant a reshuffling of study groups. This time, I was paired with an eclectic mix of classmates. Erin, a communications major, infused creativity into our discussions. A doctor pursuing a joint MBA and medical degree brought a unique perspective. Robert, a finance whiz from Harvard, provided sharp analytical insights, while Anshul, a consultant from Canada, added strategic flair.

Despite our differences, the group meshed surprisingly well. When I confided about my personal struggles and the medication I was taking, they were nothing but supportive.

“Don’t worry about it,” Erin joked. “If you start sleepwalking during a project, we’ll just take turns guiding you back to the table.”

Their lighthearted approach made a world of difference. Our meetings became a blend of hard work, laughter, and camaraderie—exactly the kind of environment I needed to stay afloat.

One unexpected twist that quarter was my decision to retake accounting—a class I had dropped earlier—by joining the Fully Employed MBA (FEMBA) program’s evening sessions.

The shift to FEMBA was a fascinating detour. I found myself in a room filled with working professionals, some of whom were juggling careers and families alongside their studies. Ages ranged from late twenties to late thirties, making me feel simultaneously at home and out of place.

Anderson had three distinct MBA tracks:

●       The full-time MBA (my program), designed for students who could commit fully to academic life.

●       The FEMBA program, tailored for professionals balancing work and school.

●       The Executive MBA (EMBA), targeted at seasoned executives seeking to refine their leadership skills.

By some twist of fate, I ended up taking classes across all three programs during my time at Anderson. Each cohort had its own unique vibe, and the FEMBA crowd stood out for their no-nonsense approach to learning.

Evening classes ran from 7 to 10 PM, which, after a full day of coursework, felt grueling. But there was one saving grace—DJ Aboodi (That was the nickname our class gave him), our accounting professor.

 Professor Aboodi wasn’t your typical professor. He was a character straight out of a sitcom—imagine an eccentric, brilliant mad scientist, except instead of concocting potions, he unraveled the mysteries of accounting. His teaching style was part stand-up comedy, part storytelling, with a splash of music references thrown in for good measure.

“You think debits and credits are boring?” he’d joke. “That’s because you haven’t met me yet.”

His energy was contagious. Concepts that had once felt like insurmountable hurdles suddenly clicked, and I found myself looking forward to class—a phrase I never thought I’d utter about accounting.

Despite being the only full-time MBA student in a room of part-time professionals, I felt surprisingly at ease. The FEMBA students welcomed me with open arms, and DJ Aboodi’s infectious enthusiasm made the late-night sessions something to look forward to.

Reflecting on the quarter, I marveled at the twists and turns my MBA journey had taken. From the hallowed halls of the film school to the unconventional wisdom of DJ Aboodi, every experience added a new layer to my education.

And, as I would continue to learn, sometimes the most valuable lessons happened outside the classroom.