1. My apartment. What a dump. I spent two years in this grimy, beetle-infested studio apartment smack dab between the undergraduate dorms and frat row just because it was convenient — an eight minute walk to Haas. Lesson learned: it’s not just about location, location, location, but lifestyle, too.
2. Exams. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with assignments and projects, and I certainly know they’re not going away in my working life. I even rather enjoy cases, at least those that focus on technology, marketing and general strategy. But it’s the exams that drive me crazy: one-shot opportunities to prove your mettle to your professor or, more likely, some anonymous PhD student with an overactive red pen. Granted, a ubiquitous curve serves as a grade safety net, but still exams seem counter to the ideal of learning for learning’s sake.
3. The Berkeley crazies. I’m talking about the loonies and schizos on Shattuck Ave., the stoners, tweakers and gutter punks on Telegraph Ave., the societal drop-outs in People’s Park, and every pot-smoking, dreadlocked, tree-sitting, Che Guevarra t-shirt-wearing, everything-protesting wacko in this town. Good riddance.
4. Dress-up parties and other ridiculousness. I hate to sound like a square, but sorry, classmates, I already experienced undergrad (and yes, I partied pretty hard). Been there, done that, glad to have moved on. (Here I’ll also mention 4b: Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.” If I hear that song one more time in my entire life, it will be too soon. Haasies know what I’m talking about.)
5. Living apart from Marie. This is obvious, but it has been a defining part of my Berkeley experience: wishing I were still living with my fiancée. Nothing is quite as fun when you’re doing it without your best friend!
