A Peek Inside the Process (Wharton S2S)

Deep, deep inside Huntsman hall, there is a room where many fear to tread. Especially this time of year, the Adcom conference room is a strange and mysterious place where only the brave venture, and few comeback alive. There are strange screams and howls from behind the door at all hours of the day, and the only sign of life is when the pizzas and cheese steaks get delivered at all hours of the night. Here is a glimpse behind the door.

There is a ten person conference table in the middle of the room and it is piled three feet high with identical manila file folders. The floor is coated with stray white papers that prevent seeing the carpet. There is one wall with painting supplies laid out that looks like a Jackson Pollack canvas, and one corner has a full bar. A huge stereo blasts 80’s dance music so loud it shakes the floor. 15 harried and tired looking people run around the room screaming at the top of their lungs.

The head of the table has a huge clock counting down, and T. sits, with a martini shaker and shouts “Adcom, Shots!” Everyone groans and turns to the bottle and shot glass in front of them, predominantly vodka and tequila, pours a shot and downs it before going back to reading files. T grabs 4 files off the table and says:

“These feel wrong, survey says – Rejected. Come on people we have to move here, we have 3000 more apps to read and only 7 hours left. Push it through, use your instincts.” He takes the four rejected files and throws them through a hole in the wall, which burps and plays music from Super Mario brothers. The hole has “reject machine” written on top of it.

One particularly skinny man stands up and says : “This girl reminds me of my ex-, that bitch left me for a HBS grad, REJECT!” and he throws the file through the hole in the wall, and collapses back to the table, sobbing as he opens another folder. The people at the table seem to double their efforts, picking up two files at a time, weighing them in their hands, and then tossing one in the reject hole. Every once in a while, someone will break apart an app saying “good pieces, but asshole.” And throw all the papers on the floor.

Three people are walking slowly looking at the ground looking at the papers lining the floor. Every once in a while one will shout “hey, I have a good essay here, anybody need a good essay?” The table workers reply: “Yes, this guy is close, all he needs is a good essay, give it to me,” as he dodges the two tabby cats chasing a ferret around the room. Another floor worker shouts, “oooh, 800 GMAT, anybody need a good GMAT.” A different table worker says, “Yeah give it here, I will put it with this idiot, but he seems funny, so it should put him over.”

There is a large tub of water in another corner, and every once in a while a table worker will come over and say “Witch Test!” and throw files into the water. Whatever files float to the top are rejected, if they sink they are accepted. The cocktail waiter makes rounds of the room serving drinks, and a short, petite girl runs carrying 17 pizzas into the room.

T. is excited, and says “Thanks, B, it is time for some pizza testing.” The Adcom cheers and begins fighting to hand files to T. They lay out the 17 pizzas and put one file on each, and then they are hurled to the ceiling. The pizza that sticks longest is accepted, the others are rejects. B says: “Hey, anybody check on the turtles lately?” Everyone turns and looks at the floor where two turtles have files strapped to their back and appear to be moving across the room. There is a large finish line where one of the floor workers waits as he scours the floor for stray app parts. Which ever turtle gets to the line first is accepted, and then they put two more files on and have them race back across the room.

A receptionist comes in with a box of stray paper and says “this is extra stuff or pieces people sent in the mail, where do you want it?” T just points at the floor and the receptionist dumps it in an even layer for the floor workers to sift through. Two of the table workers are passed out in their chairs as T. jumps and shouts to keep going. “I will survive” comes on the stereo and the whole Adcom takes a dance break as T grabs his karaoke microphone.

They are all sweaty as they sit back down and the floor workers start looking again. One table worker has put several files on the wall and begins to throw paint at them. As the work begins to develop, the other adcom start to grade the files on which one has the best color. The pretty files are accepted, and after a while the bad folders are scraped from the wall and thrown in the reject hole.

T sits in his chair and says : “I’m tired. Bring in the monkey.”

“BRING IN THE MONKEY!” B repeats in a shrill voice. An ape is walked into the room and put on a stand with a handle. The Adcom begin to bring files ten at a time, to try and put a dent in the table. Ten files are put on each side of a scale and then the monkey is tickled and he moves the handle one way or the other. The ten files that end up lower are rejected, and the other ten are accepted, the handle is reset and the monkey is given a banana. Then the process starts again.

There is a banging on the door “George, this is your wife, you have been in there for 3 days and if you do not come home this instant I am divorcing you.” George is one of the table workers, and he looks down guiltily, before taking a shot of Tequila and shouting “I don’t need you, you stupid woman, I work for WHARTON!”

T. looks sublimely pleased and the shout of “WHARTON” jerks him from his slumber:
“Adcom, SHOTS!”

CheersAF

AF's disclaimer: OK, just so there is no confusion. I have no actual knowledge of the admissions process in any way other than being an applicant. I am a babe in the woods and I have never once set foot in Huntsman Hall after it was finished, let alone inside the Adcom conference room.
The Peek inside the Process was a complete fabrication and total work of parody based on the ravings of my lunatic mind and some of the neurotic comments on this site.

CheersAF

(Wharton S2S Forum)