People begin to murmur to those around them, and there’s an awkward laugh here, and a “Nice to meet you” there. Students start to stand and ask about being in the same group, for clearly there’s nothing else to do but to assume Professor Thomas was being serious.

More and more students venture from their seats. They reach a critical mass and rapidly it seems like the whole room is power walking, introducing, teaming up and swarming together. They move like a school of fish rushing upstream, and I feel like a tiny minnow being tossed around.

“Are you in the MBA program?” A man in a suit pushes through two young women tyring to reach another guy wearing a tie.

“Who has a master’s?” a brunette woman yells into the crowd.

My mouth feels like sandpaper. I slide my notebook into my backpack and reach for my water.

Down the aisle, the lazy dude stands and turns to the row behind us.

“Hi, Braden Hart.” He reaches out his hand to a bespectacled, white, hipster-looking guy, who has teamed up with an olive-skinned, preppy-dressed girl in the row behind us.

“How many languages do you know?” the guy asks, skipping any introduction.

“Three.” Braden crosses his arms with confidence.

The hipster guy raises his eyebrows. “Which ones?”

“French, Span—”

“Coding languages, you idiot,” the girl snaps. The hipster guy just blinks at Braden.

“Oh.” Braden steps backward. “I don’t really...uh...”

The hipster guy scoffs. “Get out of my face.” He holds up a hand.

I slide out of the row and walk up to a group of older-looking students. I could’ve tried for the group behind me—I do know three coding languages—but I don’t want to work with anyone that rude.

A girl with a pink stripe in her hair smiles as I walk up.

“Hi, I’m Roberto.” I clear my throat. “Robbie,” I add.

“Hey, I’m Rebecca,” she says.

“Chad.” The guy reaches for my hand, and as I shake it I can’t help but notice he’s wearing both twine bracelets and a Rolex.

They ask me about my skills, and I nod along as I walk through my experience. They seem less interested when I mention my passion for social impact, but they don’t tell me to get lost or anything.

“Do you have any experience at a start-up?” Rebecca asks.

I start to answer, but my attention is pulled away. On the other side of the room, Sara is speed walking from group to group, her heels clicking. She barely makes it a few syllables through her high-pitched introduction before she is turned away. And turned away. And turned away again.

I bring my attention back to the people in front of me.

“I don’t, but I was in the prebusiness club at my high school,” I say.

Rebecca nods. She leans over to whisper to Chad.