The app HBS needs for last-minute tickets.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair
- T.S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”
As the beginning of the semester unfolded in a flurry, a veritable resale marketplace for ticketed events sprung up across the dual horsemen of intra-HBS communication – WhatsApp and Slack. Before any expertise developed in the marketplace, RCs learned just how liquid the market for last-minute tickets is. As “The Great Gatsby Party” neared, a ping-ponging of offers flooded the market. “Looking for a ticket…” “Selling two tickets for face value..” The nineteen percent of HBS students with undergraduate degrees in economics must have marveled at the creation of a digital bazaar for student clubbing. How simple: I’m buying, who’s selling?
I imagined each of our many budding entrepreneurs smiling in delight as the spark of an idea burst into an Olympic torch in their mind: What if we created a marketplace for students to buy and sell event tickets? Such a flame erupted further with Chat-GPT-esque escalatory exaggeration as the event slate continued to unfurl. As many RCs will recall, Euro Party saw a dearth of last-minute sellers. Pleading students posted: “Buying euro party ticket – will throw in a Kit Kat,” or “Willing to buy a Euro ticket at original price + $1.” (I’ll admit that the last one was me.) A brutal tactician would have joyously laughed, Dr. Evil style, as they considered how much profit they could make off of selling their Euro Party ticket. After all, what is the true price of FOMO? Do we dare “capture the value” created by the HBS student body’s collective FOMO? Do we really dare?
Yes! We shall! Can such a quest be deferred until the wintery days of Startup Bootcamp, until those frigid evenings of customer discovery? No, our quest shan't extend into wretched January. We have already reached into our armory and wielded our most trusted weapons. The heft of the battle ax named Porter’s Five Forces felt reassuring, emblazoned with our crest and house motto – “Founder mode.” The light yet pointed blade of the 4 P’s glinted with a heavenly promise of successful battle to be had. Our maester has potions on hand to extend lifetime value, accumulated from the vast archives of parchment-bound Harvard Business School cases.
And so we must declare: we shall build a robust mobile application to permanently weld the undying aura of the free market, venerated by Adam Smith the Wise, with the everlasting manifestation of FOMO (“FOMO economicus”).
We embark upon our journey to tech startupdom, billowing Veritas banners in hand. We soon stumble upon a perilous passage, known throughout the land of Allston for its unmistakable treacherousness. The oft-repeated tales of infamy of this passage have rung through the halls of Aldrich since the early days of the dot-com boom. Many RCs have surrendered to its menace. I shall name it once only, such that we shall overcome it: the lack of a technical co-founder.
Oh, such a callous passage! Shall ChatGPT, our lofty, newest, and most venerated sword, be enough to hack our way across this loathsome chasm? Shall our mercenaries, say a contracted developer, or even perhaps a squire, say a Harvard College CS major, clear the path for us? Shall the halls of the i-Lab ring with our call to arms? We say so! We make our way into battle, generals or knights or queens or some other title befitting our leadership training, providing little to no technical input, approving designs and color schemes and such.
Prost! The mobile app is stunning. Our pithy design comments were the final blows securing our passage to the lands of bountiful mobile applications. In honor of our esteemed heritage, we name our creation: “FOMORE. ” Our vassals cheer “Veritas! Veritas! Veritas!” as we prepare a great feast of celebration for the Spangler Banquet.
As we await the release of our technology all throughout Spangler Landing, we recall olden days of yore at the i-Lab, the days in which price transparency seemed the fiercest foe in the land. On launch day, the trumpets blare. The tables of Spangler Banquet Hall are bedecked with fine sheets of parchment inscribed with a primitive QR code to download the most prized app in all of our kingdom.
Alas, to our immediate dismay, the pristine lawns of Spangler Landing do not ring with our wondrous praise. The silence throughout the kingdom is only punctured by the pings and pongs of the ball on the lawn’s only finely carved ping pong table. Does the kingdom not yearn for more transparent pricing on tickets? What is the meaning of such comforts as our daily bread, compared to the riches of a marketplace to replace the never-ending chimes of WhatsApp and Slack? All the frameworks, all the potions, all the pithy design comments we gave, all for naught. We have 10 users, and it is foreordained, as we have been instructed since our infancy in the halls of the kingdom, that many will churn.
We overlook the great lands of the kingdom from the high towers of Baker Library, feeling estranged from the citizenry of HBS. Did we need to dare? Why, WHY, did we fail? Is the fleeting nature of FOMO to blame? Should we have waited until Startup Bootcamp? Did we leave our customer too undiscovered? A steaming bowl of Aldridge Oatmeal, garnished with rich, delicate walnuts, is not enough to hide the shame we feel today. Time to turn back and post: “Selling one useless app, willing to sell for below face value. Thx."
Jake Goodman (MBA ’26) is originally from Davie, Florida. He graduated from Brown University with an honors degree in English and Economics in 2019. Prior to HBS, Jake worked in corporate development, strategic finance, and retail strategy and operations at Gopuff, a rapid convenience app, in Miami, and for Barclays in New York City. He is an avid banjo and guitar player and misses the Florida sun dearly.
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