I was seated in the boardroom at a prominent medical tech company. I had just pitched my business case for a new medical app for doctors to the founder and his associates, and was waiting for their response. We discussed the agile sprint required to build the prototype. We discussed the subscription model — a revenue structure I had carefully thought through. I had projections outlining when the product would become cash positive. I explained the value of being first-to-market, launching an MVP and iterating using the user base to test and refine the application.
And then I waited.
I realized in that moment he was not motivated by numbers and projections. He was motivated by something completely different — legacy.
I looked around the boardroom. Awards. Photos of his kids. A trophy with a plaque on the front, names added to it each year.
So I pivoted.
I added what became my saving grace in that meeting:
“We can create a living legacy with this product. It can engage employees, build in a mechanism to give back — rounding up a percentage for meaningful donations — and become the seed for a foundation tied to this company.”
His eyes lit up.
“YES. This is exciting.”
I had found his driver. His motivator.
Then he asked me the question I’ve heard so many times before:
“Where did you get your MBA?”
My answer was simple: “I did my MBA at York Theatre.”
It gets a laugh. But this is usually where I stump the other people in the boardroom. I explain that my business education came from Eugène Ionesco when I studied The Bald Soprano, and from David Mamet when I broke down the tactics, wins and losses of Glengarry Glen Ross.
That my understanding of how not to sell — but instead to create a buyer — came from four years of reading Jean-Paul Sartre, Albert Camus, and William Shakespeare, where you learn that the most powerful tactic is often to play the opposite of what the line says.
What is business, if not the art of conflict and relationships?
In that vein, my degree in theatre represents the best business training I could have ever had — because I became an expert in the human condition and in the art of reading people.
The value of an arts degree far exceeds the perfecting of a discipline. It is deep research into how people relate, interact and express themselves. Applied to business, that knowledge is limitless.
Unlike how often I use the Pythagorean theorem in my adult life, I rely on my theatre training constantly. Had I taken a more traditional path — learning P&L statements instead of dissecting Anton Chekhov and his ability to make you laugh and cry at the same time — I would not have had the same foundation to enter the business world with the courage and composure required to build a successful agency. I entered York with a passion for theatre.
I left with an understanding of the human condition — and how to use that understanding to get ahead. In hindsight, an incredibly valuable skill.
In a world where AI is rapidly taking over jobs and services, more and more companies will be seeking exactly this skill set: the ability to read people quickly and pivot accordingly, with the speed of a first responder.
Because relationships will always sit at the core of any business deal.
AI cannot interpret what truly drives a person.
That is not a personality trait. It is a skill. A trained, practiced, sharpened skill.
No one buys a product.
They buy the person behind it.
If you understand what people want — and why they want it — you’ve already won the battle of the boardroom.
And therefore, the battle of business.
So perhaps an arts degree, when viewed through this lens, is more relevant today than we ever thought — and exactly the kind of training we should be seeking, whether we aim to be employable or entrepreneurial.
Because alongside business acumen and common sense, the study of art and human relationships is what truly rounds out the skill set required to succeed.
