The final quarter of the MBA wasn’t just a countdown to graduation—it was a whirlwind of celebrations, nostalgia, and the restless energy that comes when everyone senses the finish line approaching.

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 33 “Casino Night and Student Auctions”

The final quarter of the MBA program felt like the last few episodes of a beloved TV series – packed with memorable moments, but tinged with the inevitable realization that the end was near.

Having stacked extra credits throughout my time at UCLA, I technically only needed one more class to graduate. But in the spirit of overachieving (and perhaps avoiding the reality of post-MBA life a little longer), I signed up for three. This left me with plenty of free time – time I wasn’t about to squander.

California still had secrets to unveil, and I intended to uncover as many as I could before trading beach sunsets for the smoggy skylines of Mexico City. Between weekend getaways, concerts, and impromptu road trips, I carved out space to plan a summer trip with my closest friends. The idea was simple: ride the post-MBA high until our bank accounts politely suggested otherwise.

But no quarter at Anderson would be complete without a healthy dose of revelry.

Casino Night was the grand finale of Anderson’s social calendar – our excuse to dress to the nines, sip overpriced cocktails, and pretend we understood the rules of blackjack. The stakes were high, not in the gambling sense, but in the auction that followed.

One of the more… eclectic items up for bid was a date with Eduardo – a charismatic classmate who promised the winning bidder a 24-hour guided tour of Tijuana. Rumor had it the itinerary included tequila, tacos, and minimal regard for international law.

But I had my sights set on a different prize – a signed Radiohead guitar. As soon as it hit the auction block, my pulse quickened. I wanted it. No – I needed it.

The bidding war began. With each raised hand, I shot subtle glances and well-timed smirks at my competition, gently nudging them away from the prize. It wasn’t the most altruistic approach – this was, after all, a charity event – but Radiohead had written the soundtrack to many of my formative years. The guitar felt personal.

In the end, victory was mine. I walked away clutching my trophy, feeling less like a philanthropic champion and more like a smug villain from Ocean’s Eleven.

As the quarter wound down, the nostalgia dial cranked up. Our section coordinators orchestrated a farewell lecture with Professor Noah Goldstein, one of the most engaging voices in organizational behavior. The talk, poignant and peppered with humor, served as a soft landing before the inevitable goodbyes.

Afterward, we gathered for a long lunch – a final chance to reminisce, laugh, and pretend we weren’t all dreading the future just a little bit.

Facebook details were exchanged, promises to visit were made, and as much as we tried to stretch the afternoon, the clock kept ticking forward.

The MBA program had been a crucible – one that shaped us in ways we hadn’t expected. Now, as we prepared to scatter across the globe, it felt less like an ending and more like the first page of whatever came next.

To my solace, I knew that at least I’d be writing that next chapter with a Radiohead guitar by my side.