Monday was one of the most grueling, emotionally whirlwinding days of the last year.
My absence here over the past eight weeks is partially explained by my participation in our school’s business plan competition. I’ve spent the entirety of Spring Quarter working with my team to develop, edit, refine, tweak, and manipulate every aspect of our plan (in short, a platform for outsourcing errands and household tasks to college students). While it’s certainly been one of the most valuable experiences I’ll gain out of business school, it has also been one of the most challenging. Weeks of anxiety and fear.. the constant worry that our work was just never done, never quite good enough.
The culmination of our efforts was to take place Monday evening. We’d be presenting our final plan in front of a panel of judges consisting of entrepreneurs, venture capitalists, lawyers, and professors. The quality of our 15-minute presentation and 15-minute Q&A would determine whether or not we would advance to the finals and have a shot at seed money to help our business get started.
We spent all of Monday (and all weekend really) preparing and compiling 8 weeks of work into the presentation that we’d be giving that evening. Anxiety was at an all time high. When the time finally came, our presentation went fairly smoothly, but the Q&A… oh, the Q&A… She was a bloodbath. The judges ripped us to shreds, attacking every aspect of our plan with incredible intensity. Whereas we’d received split decisions of support in the past, no words of encouragement came on Monday. Crushed, deflated, and soured, we grasped for reasons we’d advance to the finals, but found little to give us hope. Would this be the end of the line for the business we’d poured our sweat and tears into? It seemed so.
The contemplation of failure still troubled me as I was dropped off at home. Having not yet eaten, I sought comfort from food. I hopped into my car, hoping to clear my mind and get the one meal that would remotely have a chance of making me feel better. Taco Bell, of course.
As I approached the drive-thru, as I have dozens of times in the past, something seemed different. Good different. I couldn’t quite place it, but it was there. I rounded the bend, and there stood the sign in its backlit glory, proclamations of spiciness emitting forth like a beacon of hope.
The Volcano Taco was back!
And just like that, all was right in the world.
