Today is the day. Ever since I missed the McKinsey application deadline, I marked this day down in my calendar. I’ve been losing sleep, haunted by the McKinsey monster that invades my dreams each night. But today is going to make all of the nightmares finally go away. Today is the annual Business and Consulting Fair.
It’s Friday, Sept. 13, to be exact. While Friday the 13th is typically an unlucky day, I began manifesting good luck for the fair by writing in my diary. I headed down to the dining hall at noon. I opted out of the greasy waffle fries and instead had an edible salad and a banana. I downed a glass of blue Powerade and began to lock in. I threw on the one business casual outfit I have for every business event, put on extra deodorant, and brushed a light coat of mascara on my eyelashes. I brushed my teeth not once, not twice, but three times, flossed, and took a shot of mouthwash for good measure. I went down to the Crimson Print printers and spent about 25 minutes asking myself how I got into this school if I can’t even figure out how to print ten copies of my resume. After a long and unnecessary battle, I got my shit to print. It was now time to head to the Student Organization Center at Hilles (SOCH).
Harvard added extra shuttle rotations from the River to the SOCH on account of the fair, but I wasn’t going to be no shuttle bitch. You think these consulting firms want someone who works smarter, not harder right? Wrong. If you can’t walk 20 minutes on a nice day, good luck making it through an 80-hour workweek, pal. As I made it to the SOCH drenched in sweat, pit stains on my light gray blouse, I immediately sniffed out the shuttle riders and marked them down as non-threatening opponents.
I soon walked inside the big glass doors, donned a name tag, and entered what seemed like an Econ-Bro zoo. I made a lap around the room, taking note of which companies I wanted to speak to first. I jumped into a big line for the first booth and waited patiently for my turn to introduce myself. As I played with my hair and subconsciously thought of ways to not stand so awkwardly, I noticed that I was still in the same spot in line that I had been 10 minutes ago. When I looked to the front of the table, I noticed the same girl was still there chatting up the 24-year-old Harvard alum whose name could have been either Greg or Craig. All of a sudden, Greg/Craig shook her hand and wrote down her name with a big star next to it. Fuck, I should’ve put on a second coating of mascara.
I quickly moved on to the next company, hoping the line would go faster this time. There was only one boy ahead of me, asking the recruiter how to best prepare for the interview stage. Sweat was dripping down his face as he tightly squeezed his left hip as if fighting off the worst cramp of all time. Suddenly, he cut his conversation short. No time to even pull out his resume from the Harvard folder he got this morning from The Coop. He sped-walked towards the bathroom with his hand still fixed tightly to his hip. He must have had the waffle fries.
Some students seemed to be facing the opposite dilemma as they prioritized making their way to the vending machine instead of PwC. One student glistened at the snacks for five minutes, unsure whether to go for the Peanut M&Ms or the Nacho Cheese Doritos. In the end, he went the cheesy route and left a signature orange fingerprint on his resumes for the remaining time at the fair.
Many students looked more casual than business casual in a classic pair of straight blue jeans, while others looked like they were already headed to their Superdays. Suit and tie, briefcase in hand, and ready to take on the world! I mean—the Business and Consulting Fair!
After an hour and a half of scanning barcodes and shaking hands, I knew my work there was done. I made my rounds and flexed my pit stains to showcase my dominance and determination. I stepped outside, delighted to see the sun again, and embarked on my journey back home. I can’t say if my passion for consulting is as strong as my passion for people-watching, but I still felt accomplished just for making an appearance. My sleep that night was nightmare-free.
Ilana Feder ’26 (ilanafeder@college.harvard.edu) writes Arts for the Independent.