Senior Columnist Piper Slinka-Petka argues that Penn trains students to join the corporate world rather than pursue original interests.
Credit: Abhiram JuvvadiEarlier this month, Cornell Law School student and TikTok influencer known as @internshipgirl shared a post titled, “A 10x intern’s rules for: Company Happy Hours.” As a creator who claims to teach young people how to achieve career success, she offered a list of tips to help interns secure a position. A few of her tips are helpful — take Rule No. 7 for example: “Thank the organizer before you go.”
Others, however, paint a more unsettling picture. Rule No. 5 advises: “Don’t get too personal just because the environment is more casual.” You heard it here, folks: if you want that Goldman Sachs internship, don’t you dare share a single hint of personality. Sip on your cosmopolitan (although not too much — see Rule No. 3 and Rule No. 6 regarding alcohol consumption) and smile.
Her message is clear, and it’s amplified by thousands of other pieces of advice to hire-hungry young professionals: Don’t step out of the box, shrink yourself into the smallest one. You must network like a pro, (see Rule No. 4 about leaving every event with new connections) and assimilate into office culture by keeping your individuality tucked away.
Welcome to corporate America, where personality is a red flag.
Maybe doing a good job requires saying and wearing the right things — conforming to the standard model of an American corporate worker. Maybe that would make sense if the world were built for robots. But it’s not, and that’s precisely the problem.
When uniqueness is a risk to getting and staying hired, monotony becomes a survival strategy — literal survival, that is. Six-figure salaries have become a necessity rather than a rarity. And so, employees learn what to say, what to wear, and who to be as a professional. Being a cog in the machine is better than going hungry.
It seems Penn has already caught on to what the job market wants. Obviously, we can’t lose our title as the University that has produced the most billionaires. Who would we be if not the richest?
It’s no secret that aspects of Penn’s culture mirror the same optimization and standardization mindset as corporate America. Penn students network relentlessly. We express familiar, safe opinions in class, we treat every conversation as if it’s a coffee chat. We’ve mastered the art of sounding agreeable — of saying a lot without saying anything. What a scary description for our world’s “brightest” minds.
Being a Penn student feels standardized. Everyone wears the same clothes, goes to the same parties, posts the same stories. Conversations on Locust Walk make it seem like everyone is living the same life: the dorm bathroom is gross, the roommate is loud, the economics grade just dropped, and Pret is everyone’s favorite spot — which cannot possibly be true. We’re following a script because Penn culture rewards predictability.
And the irony? We weren’t admitted to Penn this way. Friends describe their unique applications — from circus acrobatics to climate nonprofits — only to funnel themselves into the same clubs, consulting groups, and pipelines to quant finance and Big Tech.
I don’t mean to disparage Penn’s legacy, but how did we as an elite, historical, and world-shaping institution stop making the greats and start making 100 versions of “Mark” in the Morgan Stanley consulting department? As one guest columnist, put it bluntly: “Penn says make money, not history.”
And how could anyone blame us students for doing exactly that? The job market is terrifying, and Penn trains us to expect success. How could we risk “wasting” a degree by doing something uncertain?
The question becomes: If corporate America rewards sameness, artificiality, and optimization, is Penn doing the right thing by giving us a practice run?
In certain aspects, yes. An old relative of mine would say something like, “You’re paying an outrageous price, they better teach you something!” We’re getting a lesson in how to look the part, act the part, and move up the ladder without making waves.
Maybe, if Penn wants graduating classes of robots to be our legacy. But if we keep rehearsing these parts, filing into our fixed spots, that Ivy League degree — our Ivy League degree — will start becoming replaceable.
We may not be able to change corporate America immediately, but Penn students — armed with the brains, power, and privilege — can start the change.
If we want one of our graduates to be the next Lin-Manuel Miranda, James Baldwin, or Toni Morrison, we have to stop conditioning our students for a life of playing it safe. The world doesn’t change at the hands of a good ol’ hireable intern. The world remembers those who are brave enough to do new, bold, and unique things.
Penn needs to live up to our history and start producing real leaders, not ones that all sound and look the same. We must support voices that challenge the status quo and start valuing true individuality. Otherwise, we risk erasing what made them truly remarkable in the first place.
And, sure, what does a young, overly optimistic, humanities major know about the job market? I’d like to think quite a lot. Maybe it’s self-preserving to believe we need a bit more of those — we need dreamers of Penn’s future. We must stop making robots willing to trade their voice for a seat at the table. First Penn, and hopefully, corporate America will follow.
PIPER SLINKA-PETKA is a College first year studying health and societies from West Virginia. Her email address is pipersp@sas.upenn.edu.
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