performed live on my first day of work
Checking in at Deloitte University (DU) is like checking in at a five-star hotel, except the lobby is packed with people in business casual.
My first day of orientation at Deloitte in the fall of 2017 was the most fun I’ve ever had on a first day of work. I flew into Dallas early that morning and boarded a 20-minute shuttle from DFW to Westlake with several other new hires. Once we arrived, the shuttle passed through guardhouses and rolled onto the sprawling campus grounds. A former cattle ranch, DU sits on more than a hundred acres of land.
We wound up and down a long road before arriving at a massive, 700,000-square-foot resort with 800 guest rooms, 36 multipurpose training rooms, a ballroom, an amphitheater, a world-class café, and a fitness center—it had everything and then some. There was even an iconic rustic barbecue restaurant and bar on campus called The Barn.
The Barn
Breaking the Ice
After I checked in, I brought my luggage to my room and got ready for the first orientation session of the day with my assigned section. I was one of the first to arrive at our sleek, state-of-the-art classroom, outfitted with cutting-edge tech and tall glass windows. Eventually, the rest of the new hires filed in—and, of course, I was one of two Black people in the room.
Melissa was a quiet Black girl from Pittsburgh. Funny enough, she’d go on to become a lawyer too. I didn’t mind that it was just me and Melissa. It was what I expected.
Andreas, one of our instructors and a senior manager at Deloitte, clapped his hands and began to speak with a Spanish accent.
“Good morning. Welcome to DU, guys. To start, we’ll do a quick round of icebreakers. Let’s go with name, school, and a fun fact.”
A few people squirmed in their seats. Others perked up and rolled their shoulders back. Andreas scanned the quiet room and chuckled.
“Don’t be so uptight, guys. This is relaxed. Which table will start us off?” he said, glancing down at his polished dress shoes.
Our table grinned and sized each other up, like we were in on a joke no one else got. For whatever reason, I felt comfortable enough to volunteer us to go first. That was out of character for me, but I figured, why not? I’d already introduced myself to most of the new hires nearby before Andreas officially kicked things off. I stood up and gave my intro. Before long, the ice was broken, and we were dismissed for our first break.
First Impressions
Each break gave us plenty of time to use the restroom, grab snacks, walk around, make calls—whatever we needed. Everything food-related at DU was top-notch, from the meals in the main dining room to the snacks strategically placed throughout the resort. Pastries, fruit, yogurt, and breakfast bars were common for the morning breaks, along with bougie espresso, coffee, and fridges stocked with water, juice, soda, and iced tea.
I was standing in line for a pastry and some fruit when a girl from class quipped behind me:
“Oh my God! When you said St. Thomas, I thought you meant the island for a second,” she said, laughing.
“Yeah, I wish!” I said, forcing a smile.
It was Priyal, an Indian consultant who had graduated from Rutgers. We were both from Jersey, so we hit it off quickly. She was spunky—a nerd at heart, but sharp enough to roast you if you let your guard down. Her energy was infectious, like she’d been with the firm for years. She was always laughing or being dramatic during group activities.
In class, Yaya sat across from me. Yaya was from southwest China, dressed impeccably, and had a cute, round face. She was further along in her career than the rest of us, who had all just graduated from undergrad—but Yaya looked like she could still be in college. I couldn’t believe it when she casually mentioned her age during orientation. We became close. She had a great laugh, and I made her laugh a lot.
Later that day, we played a game called Where Do You Stand? in one of the training rooms. We were instructed to stand in different corners of the room based on how we felt about various ideas. The game was designed to surface personal opinions and preferences, sparking conversations that were sometimes awkward, but often intriguing. It also helped form new connections—one of which was Ricky, an Indian consultant from St. Louis.
Ricky was reserved but effortlessly cool. He didn’t need to fill the room with words to make an impression. Instead, his quiet confidence spoke volumes, much like his sharp blue suit. He had a way of listening deeply before sharing something thoughtful. He was someone who observed more than he revealed, but when he let you in, it felt like a privilege.
Lunch in the main dining room at DU.
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star
Our final session of the day took place after dinner. Everyone was already dressed for The Barn, where most of the new hires planned to go afterward. We filed into the largest training room on the resort grounds, lit brightly and arranged with large rectangular tables covered in black tablecloths, evenly spaced across the room. We were grouped by our assigned sections.
We played silly games led by a goofy facilitator who ran team-building sessions for large organizations. Each activity seemed designed to lower our guards and get us laughing at, and with each other.
The final game required each group to get on stage and perform something. The facilitator stood up front, mic in hand, scanning the crowd for his next group of victims.
“Okay, guys! Here we go! Our next group will come up on this stage and…” He pulled a card from the pile and paused for dramatic effect.
“Rap Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star!” he shouted into the mic, a sly smile stretching to his ears.
“Ooohs” rang out across the room, followed by bursts of laughter—like a punchline that landed a beat late. Every group started looking around nervously, whispering and preparing in case they got called up.
Everyone in my group turned to me with puppy-dog eyes, holding back laughter. I waved my hands and laughed. “No. I know what you’re all thinking.”
Yaya cracked up.
“Jesse!” Priyal screamed.
“I’ll do it with you, man,” Ricky said, reassuringly.
The facilitator must’ve noticed me and my group. “You guys! Come on up!” he said, seemingly pointing straight at me.
I kissed my teeth. I should’ve known.
My group giddily made their way to the stage, with me in tow. Once we were up there, the facilitator started hyping the crowd.
“Make some noise for your colleagues!” he yelled.
The class applauded, with scattered whoops and whistles.
Before handing me the mic, he repeated the prompt:
“Rap Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. Take it away, guys!”
I grabbed the mic and looked back at my group with a look that said, Don’t make me look stupid.
They huddled around me. I cupped the mic with both hands and started beatboxing my rendition of “Grindin’” by Clipse. More “ooohs” and “ahhs” came from the crowd.
My group started bobbing their heads and dropped into the beat, rapping Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star with precision—leaning side to side, waving their hands like a bootleg hip-hop group. I wanted to laugh so badly my cheekbones hurt. We all tried to hold it together for the full twenty seconds we performed.
Everyone loved it—the crowd went wild, and the facilitator gave us kudos for originality.
New Connections
That moment—standing there in front of hundreds of peers we haven’t met, all of us looking ridiculous together—was the perfect punctuation to our first day of orientation. It wasn’t just about the awkwardness or the silliness; it was about the unexpected connections and impressions we had made.
At The Barn that night, strangers turned into something closer to friends. People came up to tell us how legendary our performance was, and we soaked it all in—watching sports highlights on the large screens adorned on the walls, clinking glasses of beer, lounging around, and digging into one of the best barbecue spreads I’ve ever tasted. Sizzling brisket and spare ribs, mac and cheese, cornbread, and greens—I packed a to-go box every night.
That first day at DU caught me off guard. It wasn’t what I expected, and it wouldn’t be the last time. I haven’t even gotten to the cows yet. That’s a story for another day.