At UCLA Anderson, facing personal challenges while balancing the demands of business school. Along the way, unexpected moments of growth, connection, and clarity shaped an experience that went far beyond the classroom.

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 17 “Taking classes outside of business school during my MBA”

Clonazepam brought with it an unexpected benefit—a peculiar "superpower" I hadn’t anticipated. While prescribed to ease anxiety and stress, it quietly doubled as a cure for hangovers. A night of drinking, no matter how excessive, could be remedied by a few drops of clonazepam before bed. I’d wake up feeling refreshed, free from the usual pounding headache or nausea.

It was an odd silver lining during one of the most challenging periods of my life. The weight of losing my father, coupled with the need for medication, had left its mark. But this small, strange perk helped me navigate the relentless social calendar of business school with a little more grace.

Of course, I wouldn’t recommend using medication to bypass the consequences of heavy drinking. But in that moment, it felt like a reprieve—one that allowed me to juggle academics, networking events, and the late nights that came with the territory at Anderson.

The perks of being a UCLA Anderson student extended far beyond the business school walls. One unexpected gem I stumbled upon was a program at UCLA Extension dedicated to the live music industry. It felt tailor-made for me—a chance to merge my passion for music with my growing interest in entertainment management.

Without hesitation, I enrolled in the live entertainment course. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I made. The class covered everything from organizing tours and concerts to marketing and promotion. But the real magic lay in the people teaching it.

The accountant for Paul McCartney led one session, offering insights into the financial intricacies of managing global tours. My main instructor? The lawyer for The Jesus and Mary Chain, who seamlessly blended legal expertise with music industry know-how. The promoter of the Hollywood Bowl even made a guest appearance.

It was surreal—sitting in a classroom, absorbing stories and strategies from industry legends. And the best part? Each class cost just $50. For a price that barely covered lunch at Westwood’s trendiest spots, I gained invaluable knowledge and connections that shaped my future.

Beyond the content, the class served another crucial purpose—networking.

Early in my MBA journey, second-year students advised me to start building relationships with those a year ahead. They stressed that internships, job referrals, and industry opportunities often flowed through these connections. So, I took their advice to heart.

I started inviting second-years to lunch, sometimes on campus, other times at nearby spots. One of those lunches, as it turned out, would change everything.

That’s when I met Rosanna—a second-year student with an impressive career as a music supervisor. She exuded a quiet confidence and had a deep understanding of the industry I admired. Our conversation flowed naturally, and we connected over shared passions for music and entertainment.

While we didn’t become immediate best friends, the seeds of a professional relationship had been planted. A few years later, after both of us had graduated, that relationship blossomed into something more. Rosanna became not just one of my best friends but my business partner.

Looking back, I realize that casual lunch wasn’t just networking—it was the catalyst for a friendship and partnership that continues to this day.

The final surprise of the year came in the most unlikely of places—Organizational Behavior class.

One day, our instructor handed out an assessment designed to measure how our peers perceived us. The goal was to provide insights into our strengths, weaknesses, and standing within our section. I expected nothing more than a routine exercise, but the results caught me off guard.

Despite everything—the anxiety, the medication, the lingering grief—my classmates ranked me among the most outgoing and sociable in our section.

I was stunned.

I had been so focused on surviving, dealing with personal challenges, that I never considered how others might view me. I assumed my struggles were obvious, that they somehow overshadowed any positive contributions I had made.

But the rankings told a different story. Somehow, amid everything, I had managed to build strong connections with my peers.

It was a humbling moment—one that reminded me of the resilience we often fail to see in ourselves. Even in difficult times, I had formed bonds that endured. Many of those relationships continue today, a testament to the strength and camaraderie that emerged from our shared MBA experience.

That year, I learned more than finance or marketing. I learned the power of community, the value of vulnerability, and the importance of showing up—even when life felt heavy.