Who Actually Reads Your College Application? (Aka Admissions Counselors Aren't Who You Picture)

I was helping a student polish his Ross School of Business application, deep in essay revisions, when he leaned back in his chair, grinned, and said, “Oh, the oligarchs are gonna love this.”

I blinked. “The… oligarchs?”

“Yeah, you know. The businessmen in suits reading my app.”  

He genuinely thought his application was going to be reviewed by a group of stern businessmen in navy suits—maybe even someone who looked like Logan Roy from Succession.

I had to set him straight.

The person reviewing his application wasn’t a high-powered CEO sitting in a leather chair in some corporate skyscraper. It was more likely a millennial woman making $40K a year, who just spent her lunch break trying to get Eras Tour tickets. The people deciding your admissions fate are not who you think—and if you don’t know your audience, you’re not writing strategically.

The Real People Behind Admissions Decisions

Let’s break down who these people are, what they earn, and why that matters for your application.

They’re Young—Not Tenured Professors or CEOs

Most students (and parents) picture admissions officers as seasoned academic experts, carefully weighing every detail of an application. The reality?

The median age of an admissions counselor is 30, and 76% are under 40 (source: CUPA-HR). The chief admissions officers (the ones making the final calls) have a median age of 45—a little more experienced but still not the intimidating old-guard academics you might expect.

That means most of the people evaluating your essays weren’t even in high school when Gossip Girl aired.

So no, the Ross oligarchs aren’t judging you. It’s probably a millennial who watches The Bachelor.

They’re Often Just Starting Out

Admissions isn’t usually a forever job. The average admissions counselor stays in the role for about two years before jumping to something else—like university marketing, corporate recruiting, or grad school admissions. Meanwhile, chief admissions officers stick around longer, averaging four years in their role.

Translation? The person reading your essay hasn’t been doing this forever. They're more likely a recent grad with a LinkedIn that says "passionate about higher ed" and a side hustle in resume coaching. 

They’re not dissecting your application like a lifelong scholar—they’re scanning for what’s clear, compelling, and easy to say yes to.

They Don’t Make That Much Money

Admissions officers have a lot of applications to read—and they aren’t making six figures to do it.

📌 Average admissions counselor salary: $41,260 per year (~$20/hour) (Source: Zippia)
📌 Chief admissions officer salary: Higher, but still not wildly lucrative

For context? The average high school teacher earns $66,400/year (BLS). Your AP Calc teacher might be making significantly more than the person deciding whether you get into your dream school. A management consultant (who actually wears a suit) earns $100K+ starting.

Why does this matter? They’re overworked, underpaid, and sifting through thousands of applications. You need to make your application an easy yes—because they don’t have time for confusion, fluff, or the same story they’ve read 20 times that day.

They’re Not “Experts” in Your Major

Applying to Ross for business? Your first reader probably isn’t an MBA holder. Applying for engineering? They might have a degree in communications. Admissions officers are trained generalists, not field specialists.

Your essays need to be accessible. Avoid jargon. Write for an intelligent reader who doesn’t have niche industry knowledge. 

Your enthusiasm has to be clear. They won’t necessarily feel why you love your major unless you show them.

Admissions Officers Have Biases—And You Can Use That To Your Advantage

People love to over-intellectualize college essays. There’s this deeply ingrained belief—especially among parents—that you need to sound serious and deeply academic to impress admissions officers.

You don’t.

I’ve had parents side-eye me for essay topics they thought were too feminine, too pop culture, or too trivial. And yet? Those are the ones that work.

One of my students—who had a 24 ACT score (which is well below the usual range for the University of Michigan)—wrote about tanning for her community essay.

Her mom was horrified. She wanted her daughter to write about leadership or volunteering. But I knew something she didn’t: The people reading her application were likely young, mostly female, and would immediately understand the social culture of tanning as a community space.

And guess what? She got into Michigan.

One of my students wrote about how people always assume she’s mean because she has Resting Bitch Face. Someone once told her, “You can’t put ‘Resting Bitch Face’ in a college essay.”

Why not?

It was funny, self-aware, and immediately engaging.

She got in.

Another student wrote about The Magic Tree House series—something that deeply shaped his love of learning but seemed “too childish” for a college essay.

Again: He got in.

Personal Voice & Bold Choices Win

College applications are serious. Your essays? Don’t have to be.

❌ You don’t have to be formal.
❌ You don’t have to use SAT words.
❌ You don’t have to sound like a professor.

✔ You CAN curse. (If it makes sense and adds to your voice.)
✔ You CAN write about stuff that feels cool to you bands.
✔ You CAN open your essay with a One Direction lyric.

People get so caught up in trying to be “impressive” that they forget the most important thing: being interesting.

Admissions officers are human beings. They like humor. They appreciate personality. They’re reading essay after essay about overcoming adversity through leadership and perseverance—but the one where a kid talks about their undying loyalty to Harry Styles?

That’s the one they’ll remember.

Your application is not going to be read by an oligarch in a boardroom. It’s being read by a millennial with student loans, a Taylor Swift playlist, and a limited amount of patience for generic essays.

Make them laugh. Make them feel something. Take a risk. I'm here to help.