Overcoming Ivy League rejection, finally

I was rejected by the Ivy League on three separate occasions. Twice while applying for undergraduate studies and once for grad school. The best I could manage was getting on the waitlist of one public policy school.

The Ivies were not my dream or my “league”, per se, but the league everyone, it seemed, wanted me to be in. Everyone around me implicitly signaled that Ivy League admission was the symbol of being elite and on a trajectory of success and respect. I don’t think I could've had an independent thought about the matter because the aura of the Ivy League was so insidious and pervasively woven into my psyche while I was growing up. Everyone else put their faith in the Ivy League, so I did too.

Ever since, it has been the source of whatever inferiority complex I have. I believe I am dumber than other people because I didn’t get into an Ivy League school. I thought I had to catch up, prove myself, and show everyone that I’m elite, too.

In a way, the Ivy League mythology is probably true. Extremely talented and capable people gain admission into Ivy League schools. And if I had too, I assume my career would’ve been easier and simpler. My “network” would have probably been more powerful and able to open stubborn doors. More people would’ve probably been knocking on my door, instead of the other way around.

And perhaps more importantly, I would’ve believed in myself more. It would’ve been a self-fulfilling cycle. If I had been admitted to the Ivy League, I would’ve believed that I was somebody. And because I believed that, I would’ve spent all that time I was insecure and engaging in negative self-talk actually being somebody. All the times I told myself stories about how I was too down-to-earth to go to the Ivy League, I could’ve been making a contribution.

The biggest trap of all this was not whether or not I got into an Ivy League school, but that I spent so much time in my life thinking about it, questioning what I was, and wondering what might’ve been. What a waste of time and energy.

What I realize now is that life and career are instances of product-market fit. Being able to make an impactful contribution is not just a matter of being talented but a matter of applying one's talents in the most impactful way. That is what I envy so much about Ivy Leaguers; nobody seems to tell them what they should do and what they should be. They seem like they have more mental freedom to just go in the direction they want, without too much questioning.

Even me, going to a relatively elite public university twice, people signal to me what I should be and what I should do all the time. They think they can fit me into the mold they want me to be. They think they can force me into their narrative. That’s what it feels like anyway.

Maybe none of this is true. Maybe nothing would’ve been different had I gotten into Harvard, Columbia, or any other Ivy League school. But putting this all on paper is proving to me that the mythology of the Ivy League has been in my head, rent-free, for a long time. I’ve been waiting for someone to validate my intellect, talent, and capability for so long.

—

The West Wing is probably my favorite television show of all time. I was turned onto it by Lee, who was one of my managers and role models when I was a consultant at Deloitte.

The funny part is that Lee was Canadian, and I figured if someone who wasn’t even born in the US was undeterred in his enthusiasm for a show dramatizing the American presidency, I would probably like it too.

One of my favorite moments of the show is the scene where the Chief of Staff, Leo McGarry, talks with the President and outlines a new strategy for the administration: “Let Bartlet be Bartlet.”

I think that's the lesson here: all of us need to find that moment when we find our footing. We should stop trying to be someone we're not. We need to accept that we should focus on being who we are, instead of obsessing over Ivy League admission, promotions, or awards.

I think we all need that moment when we realize we can embrace our individuality, whether it's "Let Tambe be Tambe," "Let Paul be Paul," "Let Detroit be Detroit," "Let Smith be Smith," or any other iteration that our identity requires.

This whole time, I've been depending on the Ivy League to give me permission to be myself. This whole time, I've been dangling my feet out, hoping for my choices to be validated by someone else.

The greatest lesson in all this has nothing to do with the Ivy League. The lesson here is that we need to create this moment where we grant ourselves permission to be ourselves.

In my case, the turning point came when a role model at work told me about his circuitous path and how he embraced it, reminding himself that sometimes "you've got to bet on yourself."

Maybe we can't will ourselves, completely on our own, to grant self-permission for self-authorship. It's okay and expected to need help, support, and encouragement. But I don't think we need an institution to "pick" us, either. I never needed the Ivy League to "Let Tambe be Tambe," though maybe that would've sped up the process. All I needed, and all that I think any of us need, is someone to remind us that the choice to grant ourselves permission is one that we're allowed to make.

The path is ours to walk if we're willing to claim it as our own.

Photo by Tim Alex on Unsplash

How we make big decisions in our household

This is how we, meaning Robyn and I, make decisions in our household. It’s a technique that I learned from Prof. Maxim Sytch during our intro Management and Organizations class in business school. In his course, we learned about how to make good decisions, even though we humans have cognitive biases. It’s a process.

The key to making good decisions is to think about the criteria we should be using to make the decision, before evaluating the decision itself.

To this day, it’s one of the most foundational and important skills I’ve ever learned. Ray Dalio, founder of Bridgewater Capital, talks about this concept a lot too.

Lately, I have been thinking about how we make voting decisions (we generally make them poorly), and I will dig into that later - without advocating for a particular candidate. But before that, let’s talk about buying a house to setup the concept.

How we bought a house

To buy a house could’ve seen a bunch of houses and made a pro and con list with the ones we liked. The problem with that approach is that not all pros and cons are equally important. And when you make a list of pros and cons, it’s hard not to think of each factor as being equivalent.

If we hadn’t thought about which factors mattered most, in advance, we would’ve been susceptible to getting hustled by someone trying to sell their house on the factors they wanted to emphasize, rather than the ones we cared most about.

More concretely, this scorecard is we used to make our decision:

This logic is fairly simple. We created a list - in advance - of all the factors of the house we wanted to score against (not all are displayed here). As we attended showings of each house, we scored each house on a simple scale of 0 to 3.

Deciding the scoring criteria in advance was helpful, because important things like “commute”, “proximity to greenspace”, and “neighbors” were not obvious to us as important considerations until we started making a list.

You can’t see this directly from the image, but there’s a very simple weighting to create the weighted average. The average of all the house features (like bathroom power outlets, move-in ready, etc.) are weighted at 50%. Then our very subjective criteria of “feels like home” (which was a feeling of coziness, and being able to imagine raising a family there) was 50%.

This is not a perfect scorecard. In fact, in retrospect it’s quite flawed because the weighting is not specific or particularly robust.

But notice this: check out the scoring of houses D and E. If we looked only at the average of house features, house E was a better choice. When we included the “feels like home” weighting, house D was a better choice. And guess what we ended up picking - house D. If not for this scorecard, we might’ve ended up in the wrong house!

Either way, house E would’ve been a lovely place to live, but we often think how lucky we are to have landed where we did. The scorecard prevented us from making a lesser choice, based on the factors that mattered to us.

Job Hunting

The most recent time I used this decision-making approach (and actually wrote out a scorecard) was when I was job hunting. Here’s the scorecard I used then:

You can see that this scorecard is a little more robust. Every factor is individually weighted. I started by scoring my current job, and then all other alternatives. And, thank goodness I listed out a set of weighted criteria because:

• There was a time I was thinking about taking over my family’s small business. It was really attractive because it was lucrative and I could be an entrepreneur. But when I scored it, it became obvious that I would never be able to see my family because I’d have to commute 1.25 hours every day. The scorecard prevented me from making a switch for the wrong reasons.

• During my job search, I found a really cool job that I had a good shot at. But when I scored it, even though it sounded great and was pretty high status, it was a bad fit because of skill set. When I became really honest with myself (Robyn helped me do that) I walked away from the final round interview. The scorecard prevented me from making a switch out of desperation and because my ego really wanted a flashy title.

• You can see some greyed out factors. Those were factors I had from previous job searches. By being specific about factors, I realized that my life had changed and that some factors didn’t apply anymore. It was okay to use new criteria for a new situation! This realization was huge.

The moral of these two stories is simple - thinking about the factors to consider and putting a weight on them in advance was a way to make a less-biased decision. In our house decision or my job search, we could’ve talked ourselves into anything - so much played into our biases, egos, and the expectations of others we felt we had to live up to. Making the scorecard thoughtfully in advance helped us keep our heads right when the pressure was on.

The Lesson

Robyn and I now have repeated this process over and over, every time we make an important decision. We don’t start with the decision. We start with asking ourselves, “what are the criteria we should use when making this decision? What are the most important criteria?”. We learned that this was a way that made it much more likely that we’d make a good decision.

We used this approach when deciding when we would send our kids back to day care (or not). We used this approach when deciding how to negotiate interpersonal conflict with family and friends. The decision, we learned, is all in the criteria and the weightings. Once we debate those, we quickly figure out what data we still need to make a decision. Once we plug those data gaps, and put them into our decision scorecard, the decision becomes very easy.

And now that we’ve put this approach of really debating criteria into regular practice, it’s easier to apply the approach, on the fly, for littler decisions.

In fact, if you want to give this approach a test run, here’s something to try. The next time you’re choosing a basic item while grocery shopping (like soup, salad dressing, or pasta sauce) try to lay out some criteria and weights. It will feel oddly challenging, but the results of your reflection may surprise you.

The Lesson for Voting

As I said at the top, I’ve been thinking a lot about this for voting. The most important parts of this post are already covered, so if you’re not interested in hearing about how this applies to voting, please stop now. Thank you for reading this far, if you have done so.

—

It seems to me that for the vast majority of my life I debated the pros and cons, and perhaps policy stances, when deciding who to vote for. Which as we saw above, is not a great decision making process because it’s pretty easy to fall into my own biases. This election, I tried something different. Let’s take the presidential race for example.

I knew that I would be biased for/against certain candidates. So I forced myself to think about the criteria to vote for President in advance. I didn’t do a formal scoring on a piece of paper, but here’s a representation of my rough model (without weights):

• Executive / Managerial Skill - will they be able to effectively run the executive branch?

  • Can they pick a competent team to fill appointments?

  • Are they able to hold other managers accountable for results?

  • Are they able to cast a clear vision for the organization?

  • Do they seem to understand operations, metrics, scorecards, and other managerial systems?

  • Do they even care about their role as the chief executive of a workforce with hundreds of thousands of people?

• Political Skill - will they be able to form coalitions with the Congress, the States, industry, interest groups, and other nations to solve important problems?

  • Are they able to build rapport with stakeholders and constituents?

  • Do they understand how to use public politics, the press, and the bully pulpit effectively?

  • Do they understand public opinion and how to navigate it?

  • Do they have a demonstrated past of forming effective coalitions?

• Character and Integrity - are they fit to wield tremendous amounts of power?

  • Are they going to follow the law? (e.g., others won’t abide by the law if the President doesn’t)

  • Do they embody the virtues and culture I hope for the whole country to have?

  • Will they do the right thing, even when it’s difficult or not convenient? Do they have the courage do what’s right, even if it means being unpopular?

  • Do they admit when they are wrong, adjust, adapt, move on, and do better next time?

  • Are they able to have good judgement during a crisis?

• Intent - assuming they are able to accomplish results ethically, would they move the country in a direction that I agree with?

  • Do they prioritize effective government?

  • Do they prioritize government integrity?

  • Do they prioritize long-term problems like infrastructure, climate, R&D, and budget?

  • Do they see the world through the lens of freedom, welfare, and American families thriving?

I thought about what my scorecard of criteria was for weeks. I honestly considered both candidates (I hope). And I came to a decision. And, I had a much different set of criteria for other races, because the criteria I would use to evaluate a Senator, a Judge, a University Regent, or a Prosecutor is much different than what I would use for the presidency.

I don’t say all this to try to convince anyone to vote for a certain candidate for any office (I would happily do that in person, and if you know me, you’ve probably voted already anyway so I’ve missed my opportunity even if that’s what I wanted to do).

What I would suggest though is that the lesson of buying a house and job hunting applies to voting. What we should be debating is not individual choices (and getting into nasty fights about those candidates), we might do better by debating what the right criteria are. What I would hope is that you challenge my criteria of factors as being correct or bogus, and submit your own criteria to the same scrutiny.

That’s the kind of debate I want to seed. It’s what I think would move us out of pettiness and polarization. Actual candidates matter, but maybe it would advance the conversation more if we put individual candidates aside for a minute and talked about our scorecards - and then tried to thoughtfully learn from and persuade each other about what we think the correct criteria should be.

Talking about decision criteria has completely transformed how Robyn and I make decisions in our marriage and for our family, I suspect that it could have similarly transformative effects in our civic lives.