By Mia Occhino ’23
I’ve just picked up Starbucks and I’m sitting in my car on Enon Street. The 1975’s Notes on a Conditional Form blares from the speakers of my MINI Cooper. I am dressed in an understated cream top, a navy blue blazer that is at least three sizes too large, and a light blue slip skirt that I have ensured hits below the knee. It has been five minutes of standstill traffic—the aftermath of the commuter rail, which I have failed to account for in my estimated travel time—and I am running late to DECA.
This will be my third year competing in DECA, but only my second year attending the in-person district competition at Endicott due to the online structure imparted upon us by COVID. At this moment in my car, I am feeling unconcerned about the day’s events other than actually making it to the competition and figuring out where I am supposed to go. I have a notoriously poor sense of direction, and though I have a semblance of a memory from last year involving parking my car in a garage and walking through campus to the Callahan Building, I have very little confidence in my ability to replicate these events.
Nevertheless, I eventually make it to Endicott around fifteen minutes after I was already supposed to have checked in. After several moments of panic (unable to locate the parking garage, unable to locate a parking space, unable to locate the Callahan Building) and subsequent relief (located garage, located parking space, located Callahan Building), I am seated in the dining hall waiting for my friends to arrive (maybe I wasn’t as late as I thought). I have a bit less than an hour until I have to leave for my presentation at the Wax Building across the way.
Though I have ample time to go over marketing terms and review notes for my presentation and am equipped with noise-canceling headphones, it is difficult for me to focus with all that is going on around me. The dining hall is full of students, both from Beverly and the other high schools in District 6, rehearsing for their presentations, eating breakfast from the buffet, and above all socializing. The room’s anxious energy is palpable, but I feel comforted upon the arrival of my friends, who are already chatting away about their chaotic morning.
DECA is often a confusing thing to explain to people who are unfamiliar with it. Essentially, you can choose to do either a roleplay or a project, and work either by yourself or with one or two other people. I do an individual roleplay category called Apparel & Accessories Marketing in which I am given a piece of paper with a scenario described on it related to marketing in the apparel and accessories industry, and assigned a job title such as Vice President of Marketing or Brand Manager for an imaginary company. The paper describes a situation that I have ten minutes to form an opinion on and create a presentation that I will present to the judge, who is also assigned a role. For example, at districts this year I was asked to choose new locations for a store that provides piercing services and is breaking off from its sister brand that provides primarily ear piercings marketed toward children and teens. I had to analyze the advantages and disadvantages of certain locations and explain how placing the stores in these locations could add to or detract from our brand image. You are scored not only on your presentation skills and creativity, but also whether or not you meet the performance indicators, which are also included on the roleplay sheet and are usually 5-6 statements such as “Explain the nature and scope of channel management” that you are expected to address during your presentation. You have ten minutes to prepare and ten minutes to present to the judge, including answering the two questions that the judge is required to ask following your presentation. This all sounds very complicated to anyone who hasn’t done DECA before, but to me in my third year, it feels like second nature.
While waiting for my prep time to start, I meet a girl whose name I recognize from elementary school. I remember attending her birthday party years and years ago, and I ask if her mother is English because I remember the way she said “parcels” instead of presents. On my way into the prep room, a woman helping competitors check in for the individual roleplay categories tells me that I have fabulous hair. My roleplay judge is a short-haired, older woman with glasses who listens attentively and grants me frequent, sincere smiles during my presentation. In the lunch line, a girl who I’ve never seen or met before tells me that my makeup looks lovely. If I ever had to convince someone to join DECA, I’d find it easier to describe these little moments of connection and kindness than to explain the details of the competition. DECA is putting months of hard work into a project or practicing roleplay after roleplay until you never want to read the words “product/service management” again, it’s pilfering your mom’s closet for heels and business attire, it’s rushing around the Prudential Center with your friends and laughing in the hotel room, and it’s these moments above all. After my final district competition, I feel that I can appreciate these moments more than ever before.
