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OP-ED: Yeah, I met a guy this summer. His name is McKinsey.

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Photo by McKinsey & Company

I won’t get ahead of myself. You know, it’s not that serious. 

I mean…is it? Ugh, I don’t know. It’s just — the way he looks at me. The way he’s so passionate about his work, about living, about succeeding, but most importantly, staying true to his character, and staying true to those whom he trusts the most. ("Trustees” as he calls them — God, he’s so clever.) 

I want to travel the world with him. I want his name interwoven with mine. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I want to say, “I do.”

I need him to tell me “Join my team.” I need for us to be a collective unit, to stay awake until the wee hours of the morning, together. 3 a.m. Uber rides home from his place. Dinner every night. Honestly, who needs kids when a life with McKinsey would already be so fulfilling? 

All I want is for my existence to be the story of McKinsey & Company. 

I am MicKinsey's, and McKinsey's mine. 

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