The idea kept floating around in my mind. “We educate leaders who make a difference in the world.” This is the mission statement of the Harvard Business School (HBS), a century-old educational institution founded as part of Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA.
I entered the Tower Club in Makati, the venue for the Centennial Dialogue of the Harvard Business School Club of the Philippines. The club, composed of HBS alumni based in the country, marked the school’s centennial with cocktails and a dialogue featuring HBS Professor Howard Stevenson via live video conferencing along with Manuel Tordesillas, co-founder and president of ATR KimEng Financial Corporation and HBS alumnus batch 1982. The night’s discussion was aptly titled “From Hindsight to Foresight: Lessons from 100 years of Market Volatility.”
“They are only the best and the brightest,” a fellow writer said after I had told him of my assignment to write about HBS alumni. “What’s there to write about them? The whole world knows that only exceptional men and women get into HBS. These are demi-gods!”
“There’s nothing else for you to say about it,” another colleague blurted out. And so I felt stymied as I took on the task but take it, I did, anyway, albeit reluctantly, because I wanted to feel what it was like to move in the same arena as them.
I walked around the room, observing gentlemen in smart suits — HBS alumni all — huddled in small groups and engaged in banter. I scouted around for an opportunity to eavesdrop, to catch a line, a gesture, an unguarded moment — anything — that would differentiate these men from the rest of us mortals who have not gone through the “Harvard experience.”
Well, for starters, they knew how to hold wine glasses (by the stem and nowhere else). No one chewed with his mouth open; none of them burped after hefty swallows; no one wore visibly scuffed shoes; and no one had a stained tie (the lighting was good so, yes, I did see very well). There were no shout-outs to waiters and no manic flailing of the arms to catch their attention; they were quite content to wait to be served.
Manuel Tordesillas
Before the evening’s program started, I was introduced by the HBS Club of the Philippines’ incoming president, Sheila Ramos of Batch ’93, to a couple of alumni, who were gracious enough to grant me short but insightful interviews.
Manuel Tordesillas of Batch ’82, 56 years old, is a co-founder and president of ATR KimEng Financial Corporation, a publicly listed company that is one of the country’s leading diversified financial services group engaged in investment banking, corporate finance, securities brokerage, money brokerage, life insurance, mutual funds, asset management and property investments. He has over 30 years of investment banking experience in the Philippines and throughout Asia.
Tordesillas seemed reluctant at first, when Ramos asked for the interview on my behalf. Still, he obliged, broke into a tentative grin, greeted me with a firm handshake, and led me to a quiet corner where we could converse undisturbed. I immediately told him that the interview was for a lifestyle feature, not for the business section, and that it was meant to be an informal and intimate recollection of his “Harvard experience.” He seemed to relax upon hearing this and, once I threw him the first question, he never stopped talking. He was a journalist’s dream: eloquent and articulate without being overbearing and boorish. His eyes lit up each time he pulled out a specific incident from his HBS memory bank. Clearly, he looks upon those years as a student with much fondness and a hint of sentimentality, I dare say, especially when he spoke of how his family — young wife and children — supported him throughout those trying two years. “They were my life-line of support.”
“It was a humbling experience,” Tordesillas admitted. “You see, we (first- year enrollees) were excelling in our own fields before getting there but then we later found out that we were average because we were among the best. We realized none of us had all the answers so we had to learn to work together.”
I asked him if completing the MBA program was, indeed, as tough as others make it out to be. “Sure,” he said. “You must be driven; you must have the attitude that you will overcome anything, that you can do it, because if you don’t, you will fail.”
Tordesillas became even more animated in the succeeding minutes and to my last question, which was, “Do you believe that a Filipino student from one of our local universities could make it into HBS?” he answered with a resounding, “Of course! I came from LaSalle!”
Jerry Angping
It was fortunate that I had landed an interview with Jerry Angping, 53, Batch ’82 and outgoing president of HBS Club. He is chairman of Geograce Resources Philippines, Inc., a real estate and cement distribution company. He is a dynamo — a firecracker, if you will. His effervescent personality had me on edge the entire time, anticipating his every line. “Clever” would be an understatement to describe his take on life. “Entertaining” would be a fair description of his delivery of anecdotes. “Fun and enlightening” would sum up the entire exchange with him.
“I was 24 when I entered HBS,” Angping started off. “I had the vigor of youth then, the yearning for excitement, and the hunger for education. I wanted to learn and at the same time have fun. The first year was all education; the second year was all fun and that’s because in the first year everyone takes the required courses. I was lucky; the first year was very, very tough. They have this rule where you hit the screen if you don’t perform well so you get kicked out after the first year. You have these gigantic egos competing against each other in the first year. In the second year, us mere mortals are resigned to our fate and those who cannot get the honors just go for the fun. If you get to the second year that means you’re all right.”
I then asked Angping if he had heard of the “Harvard Four-Minute Rule,” some sort of urban legend obviously proliferated by Harvard rejects. It refers to the allegation that it takes, on average, four minutes, from the moment of having been introduced to somebody (who happens to have graduated from Harvard), before that person casually mentions that he/she graduated from Harvard.
Angping chuckled and said, “That’s very interesting… very interesting. I guess it depends. It’s a very useful credential to drop but if used ostentatiously, can turn people off.” He chuckled a bit more and added, “When I came back from Harvard I went to teach in UP and the first thing I told my students was, ‘There’s MBA from Harvard but there’s DBA from Divisoria’ and I honestly, up to today, think that the Divisoria Business Administration degree is more important than the MBA from Harvard. The Divisoria one is all about street smarts, how to deal with people, how to treat friends and foes alike, how to treat peers and how to manage laterally, linearly and vertically and that’s very important. Sometimes, if you are too bookish it’s not good. It’s never as important as what you learn when dealing directly with people in the real world.”
When we both stood up to bid each other goodbye, he said to me, “Nice red shoes.” I instinctively looked at my pumps and there they were: shiny and bright red, as red as my cheeks probably had gotten because of the compliment from that gentleman from Harvard. I shall not forget him.
Sheila Ramos
Still relishing the effects of that very engaging interview with Angping, I moved on to incoming HBS Club president, Sheila Ramos, 40, of Batch ’93. The first thing I asked her was what her official job title was. When Ramos said, “Transitioning,” she immediately captured my interest and then held it until the very end of the interview because of how forthcoming she was, how deliberate of speech, how clear-minded she was about what she wanted to do, and how definite her future plans were.
“I had been with Tokyo Tokyo (the family’s chain of fast-food restaurants) for the longest time and now at 40, I figured I need to regroup and spend time with my family, helping each member find their passion, in the way I did — a passion for work or play which carried me through my two years at HBS.”
I asked what was the most important thing she had learned in her two years at HBS. “It’s not what you learn but how you learn it,” she answered, clear-eyed and enthusiastic.
Ramos then spoke at length about the case study method, which is a powerful interactive learning process that brings the complex and dynamic realities of business analysis and decision making into the classroom. The Case Method is the cornerstone of the school’s renowned general management approach, which provides the student with the skills, insights and self-confidence required to meet the demands of real business situations.
“The first six months at HBS were tough for me. In fact on the very first day, I said to myself, ‘I’m gonna die.’ Class can be terrifying. I was 23 and quite lonely, plus I had come from a school that was very traditional in its teaching methods. It was rote learning, where one wasn’t allowed to think out of the box and to ask questions. At HBS that was mostly what we had to do — ask questions. We had to figure out answers by asking questions and analyzing given business situations. All HBS alumni go through around 500 case studies before they graduate.”
I then asked Ramos to talk about her HBS classmates for a quick profile on what the people who make it there are like. “They were equally passionate outside school as they were inside. We had Olympic swimmers, singers, dancers, techies. At the end of the day, they are passionate people. That’s what makes them different.”
Quintin Doromal
Next, I sat down to speak with Quintin “King” Doromal of Batch ’52, who, at 81, is the oldest member of the HBS Club. He is executive director of Bantayog ng Bayani, a foundation for those who were killed and incarcerated during Martial Law. It was a welcome change of pace as Doromal reminisced leisurely about his days at Harvard.
“Are you finding pleasure in retirement?” I asked him.
Doromal looked genuinely surprised. He then piped up, “Why, you’re retired? But you look young.” With wit as sharp as a knife I knew I was in for an exciting ride with Doromal. He continued, “My tuition then was only $210 a year. Can you imagine that? What is it now, $40,000? $50,000? Now we can both agree that I am the luckiest man in this room!”
I then asked him if he had always wanted to come back to the Philippines upon graduation and he answered, “Of course! I belong to a nationalistic generation. I had always known I was coming home right after school. My goal had always been to come back and do something for this country.”
Miguel Aguiluz
Next up was Amable Miguel Aguiluz IX, or Miguel for short, of Batch 2005. He is CEO of the ACA Group of Companies and was enrolled under the HBS OMP program, which caters to business owners. He is known for winning the school’s business strategy competition, besting 149 other participants. The winning project, now operational in the country, is called Ink for Less, a printer ink refilling station.
I asked Aguiluz, “Was there one definitive experience while at school that changed you?” “There were many,” he answered. “The experiences I shared with my classmates for one, and what I learned from them. Also the professors there are the best in the world. And, of course, the lessons I learned, specifically in corporate strategy, which I have retained up to now, have improved my management style and my company.”
To lighten the mood a little, I ventured to ask Aguiluz if he had heard of the “Harvard Four-Minute Rule.” He said no, so I explained to him the myth that it takes someone a maximum four minutes before mentioning they graduated from Harvard. He let out a hearty chuckle upon hearing this and said, “That could be true but I always wait until I am asked.”
Manny Ayala
In the middle of the evening’s program, I espied an old friend, former media personality Manuel “Manny” Ayala, 45, Batch ’92, currently connected with IRG Ltd., a boutique investment firm. He was in conversation with Sheila Ramos, so I went ahead and took the liberty of asking him for a printable quote about the Harvard experience. I knew I was going to get either the most controversial or the funniest one from him because whenever he sheds the serious image and lapses into his lovable clown mode, he never fails to bring down the house.
Ayala answered almost instantly with his trademark impish smirk: “HBS without the H is simply BS. How’s that for a quote?” So I looked to Ramos for approval and she said with a big smile, “Sure, you can print that but please don’t fail to mention that the source is the muse of the Harvard Business School Club, Manny Ayala.” “Done,” I said.
Aurelio “Gigi” Montinola
Right before leaving I spotted Aurelio “Gigi” Montinola III, 57, of Batch ’77, now president of Bank of the Philippine Islands (BPI), in the crowd so I asked him to kindly supply a quote. He replied, “Give me five minutes,” and then turned pensive. It hadn’t even been two minutes when he turned back to me and said, “Here it is: I thought I was gifted but when I got there, it turned out I was ordinary.” We both contemplated that for a moment and it didn’t sit well because anybody but anybody in Manila’s business circle knows that Montinola is anything but ordinary.
So Montinola came up with a better one in the next breath: “I didn’t speak much in class but I learned, through three cases a day, about business analysis by osmosis.”
Fred Ayala
In the process of writing this piece I remembered the one Harvard Business School alumnus that I have always admired since the first time I met him 27 years ago, Alfredo “Fred” Ayala, 47, of Batch ’87, because of his old world charm and manners, his intelligence that never fails to enchant those who come across him, and an absence of the arrogance that many of his stature easily fall prey to. He is currently CEO of Livelt Solutions, Inc., Ayala Corporation’s holding company for its investments in the BPO sector. He was gracious enough to humor me and here is what Ayala said: “Harvard was a great catalyst for discovering what I really wanted to do, by exposing me to classmates, professors, and career opportunities that were much more diverse and inspirational than I had anticipated.”
Gathered in the Tower Club that evening were indeed leaders who make a difference in the world, true to their alma mater’s mission statement. But more than that, up close and personal, they are passionate men and women. They are cerebral warriors who battled their way into HBS, bastion of the world’s elite intelligentsia, where only one out of nine applicants ever gain access, and then labored for two years to finish what they had set out to do. They are highly intelligent, driven, inspired and exceptional, but at the same time tempered by a keen sense of humor that seems to say to those they encounter, “C’mon, don’t take me too seriously, don’t be intimidated, I’m a regular guy.”
After spending several hours with these people I figured that the “Harvard Four-Minute Rule” should be radically altered so that it refers to the average amount of time wherein one realizes that he is in the presence of a Harvard graduate.
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