Coffee, Komi, Rotman: The Language Of Transformation

Grab a chair — let’s sit for this one. I’ve just brewed myself a cup of black coffee, no sugar, no milk, a habit I’ve clung to like a lifeline since arriving at the Rotman School. A year ago, I scoffed at the “MBAs drink a lot of coffee” cliché, swearing it’d never be me. 

Oh, how wrong I was. 

You’re here, I imagine, curious to peek into my journey through business school. As shared in my previous piece, I had only just arrived from England, stepping onto Canadian soil, suitcase in one hand, a tangle of dreams in the other—excitement pulsing like a drumbeat, dread curling like smoke. That was me, months ago, crossing Rotman’s threshold, drawn despite its quant-heavy reputation. I needed the quant rigor; I needed to train my mind to feel comfortable with numbers and spreadsheets, but here I was, the dread making me second-guess my decision to uproot myself from stability to embrace the unknown. With that glimpse of my beginning, let’s dive into the tale of my first term.

A STRANGER IN A QUANT’S WORLD

I’m not a quant. No glittering trail of hardcore business experience stretches behind me. Before Rotman, I danced in the creative fields of marketing and communications, with a brief detour into retail banking at First Bank of Nigeria, where I dipped my toes into credit analysis. Yet, here I was, pulled to Rotman like a moth to a flame, craving the sharp-edged knowledge it promised. The walls seemed to hum with a bold vow: “Here is where it changes.” It was a call that stirred my blood, a whisper of transformation heavy in the air. I arrived with baggage—literal and otherwise—carrying a heart filled with hope and shadowed by imposter syndrome, that sly thief of courage. What lay ahead was uncharted, a vast river I’d have to navigate alone. 

…or so I thought.

Classes hit like a freight train, swift and unrelenting. Term One’s core list—Managerial Economics, Accounting, Leading People—stared back at me, daring me to blink. I couldn’t resist stalking my classmates on LinkedIn (Don’t judge, we all do it). There they were: seasoned business minds – CFAs, bankers – essentially, the typical quant minds. I walked into that first class a stranger to myself, doubts gnawing at my edges: Should I even be here? Will I trail behind these people who, before now, were mostly familiar with business like a shadow lost in daylight? My laptop flickered awake, sluggish as my nerves, when the professor’s voice cut through: “Accounting is the language of business.” I froze, then straightened, electrified. As someone steeped in language and literature—where words twist and bloom —those words struck deep. Accounting as a language? Suddenly, it wasn’t a beast to wrestle but a code to crack, a bridge from my past to this new world. Fear melted away quickly, like it hadn’t mocked me a few minutes prior. This was my first awakening, or rather, a sweet paradigm shift.

DECODING THE WORLD ONE BALANCE SHEET AT A TIME 

That moment rewired me. Accounting became a story I could read. The professor spun it like a poet: “A balance sheet is a still frame; cash flow, a reel unwinding the rhythm of existence.” I was hooked. This clarity spilled beyond the classroom. I started devouring The Financial Times, The Economist, and Bloomberg—outlets whose headlines once felt like a wall of jargon-laden mystery. Now, I traced a company’s lifelines through its financials, spotting the stories behind the numbers. What was once opaque became a map, and I’d learned to navigate it. I could see who used these statements—investors hunting value, managers steering the ship, regulators keeping watch – and why they mattered. It was like being handed a decoder ring, and I’d catch myself grinning, thinking, I get it now.

Managerial Economics handed me a strategist’s toolkit. Demand and supply weren’t just curves—they were the pulse of commerce. I’d read about a company’s pivot in The Economist and thought, Ah, so that’s why. Markets came alive: duopolies squaring off, oligopolies jostling for turf, monopolies looming large. It was as if someone flipped a switch, and the world burst into color. My Leading People in Organizations course was the real revelation. I’d worked under managers before, their decisions a tangle of whims I couldn’t unravel. Now, I saw the method in the structures, the intent in the hierarchies. It was like finding the missing piece of a puzzle I didn’t know I was solving, illuminating choices from my marketing career that once seemed random. 

 

THE BEAUTIFUL CHAOS OF CONNECTION

 Knowledge wasn’t the only current pulling me along. Networking slipped in. It felt effortless at first, a natural extension of the classroom’s hum—we were all in this together, trading stories like currency. But settling into classes was only half the dance. Career coaching and networking became a juggling act. The coaching was a compass, guiding me through the maze of what could be, while networking tethered me to the people who’d walk beside me. It was beautiful, though stressful, but seeing the quality of people and my new-found network just in my first term gave me a thousand reasons to look forward to journeying through the program. 

Still, the pace was brutal. Midterms crashed over me like a wave just three weeks in, cold and unyielding. I felt tossed into the deep end, flailing as I was pulled down by the undertow, unsure if I’d surface. Then came finals, six weeks in—a tempest of stress and sleepless nights. We endured, though—scorched, perhaps, but not broken. It was a trial-by-fire, and from its ashes, we rose stronger.

A NEW LENS, A NEW ME 

By Term One’s end, I felt like Paul on the road to Damascus, scales falling from my eyes. The business world, once a shadowed realm, now shone with clarity. Doubts lingered, faint as echoes, but they were drowned by a new sound—a quiet, steady confidence swelling within me. It wasn’t just the classes, though they sharpened my mind. It was the community, the support, and the relentless push to reach higher and be more. I was no longer the stranger who stumbled in on day one, clutching coffee and questions. I was becoming something else—a storyteller-turned-strategist, a wanderer finding his footing.

THE COFFEE’S GONE—BUT THE STORY ISN’T

I’m out of coffee now. I could brew another cup to spill the rest of this tale, but too much risks a reckless tongue. So, stay tuned—I’ll share more soon.

BIO

Komi is a storyteller whose storytelling fire ignited on Nigerian radio, where his voice captivated a city of 8 million people. That spark, honed through an undergraduate degree in Adult Education, English Language, and Literature, fueled his knack for crafting narratives that pulse with life and drive impact. Komi earned a master’s degree in Marketing and Communications from Italy, which further sharpened his craft, propelling him to the UK, where he crafted bold brand narratives on global stages, including COP28, New York Climate Week, and the World Economic Forum. He’s also a published author; his anthology, Son of Olodumare, weaves rich, cultural tales that echo his roots.

Now at Rotman, Komi is chasing CMO dreams, blending leadership with technical finesse to tell brand stories that connect and help capture value. When he’s not strategizing, he’s scribbling new stories, forever that kid who found magic in a microphone.

DON’T MISS: COFFEE, KOMI, ROTMAN: QUEST FOR ENDURING IMPACT

© Copyright 2025 Poets & Quants. All rights reserved. This article may not be republished, rewritten or otherwise distributed without written permission. To reprint or license this article or any content from Poets & Quants, please submit your request HERE.