Since apparently getting a degree isn’t enough, we now have to play a long, stressful game of Simon Says with complete strangers just to convince them we’re worth remembering. I’ve always found the concept of networking a little peculiar. Like, you mean to tell me I have to get dressed, leave my house, walk into a room full of strangers who think they’re better than me (and they probably are), and convince somebody who’s already been in my shoes that I’m worth handing the baton to. And somehow, while doing all of that, I have to make it look natural?
I love meeting new people, but under the right circumstances, of course. Preferably with good lighting, a little music, and absolutely no expectation that I summarize my entire elevator speech in 30 seconds. But networking? Networking is a different type of social experiment that none of us signed up for or even knew we were participating in. It’s like The Bachelor for the employed. Except nobody’s looking for love; everybody’s looking for an opportunity, and the bachelor is whoever has the hiring authority.
One moment, you’re complimenting a woman’s hair. The next, you’re mentally calculating how to transition from “Who’s your stylist?” to “Are y’all hiring?” I personally like to call it “the Goldilocks Operation.” You can’t come off too strong, and you can’t come off too short. You have to be just right. And somewhere between the business cards, forced introductions, and enthusiastic declarations of “I’d love to connect,” I couldn’t help but wonder: at what point does networking become professionally begging people to like us?
While I understand the importance of building connections, I’d also like to maintain a little dignity in the process. I want opportunities, not an adoption. And surely there has to be a way to get both without making every interaction feel like an obstacle course disguised as a conversation.
They can smell desperation a mile away.
It’s almost like they feed off of it. There’s something about wanting an opportunity really badly that makes us act as if we’ve never had a conversation with another human before. Suddenly, we find ourselves laughing at jokes we’d side-eye any other time, agreeing with opinions we don’t even understand, and complimenting things we wouldn’t ordinarily notice. And listen, I get it. We’re young and trying to establish ourselves, so everybody with a little experience starts looking like an express ticket to success. Especially when your résumé has more extracurricular activities than actual employment history.
But there’s a fine line between being enthusiastic and becoming a professional people pleaser. You don’t have to argue with everything somebody says to make a lasting impression. You don’t have to giggle at every joke. And you certainly don’t have to boost someone’s ego any higher than it already is. Sometimes, the most effective thing you can do is ask good questions. Not “Can we schedule an interview?” before they’ve even smelled your perfume. Try asking what they enjoy about their industry, what they wish they’d known when starting out, or how their career evolved into what it is today.
And actually listen to the answer. Not that fake listening where you’re nodding your head while your brain is changing costumes for the next question. Because there’s a difference between being curious about someone’s career and being interested in what their career can do for yours. The point is to discover whether there’s a genuine connection, not manufacture chemistry because of what somebody has to offer.
A CONNECTION IS NOT A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL.
And I think we’ve become so obsessed with making connections that we’ve forgotten what connecting actually means. Somewhere along the way, meeting someone becomes a package deal with needing something from them. I believe in being intentional, but I don’t believe every interaction needs a hidden agenda and a five-year business plan. Imagine meeting someone at a coffee shop, having a lovely conversation, exchanging numbers, and immediately they text you asking you to co-sign their apartment. You’d look at them like they’re crazy. So why do we approach professional relationships with that same level of urgency? Let’s say you meet a woman who’s been in your dream industry for 15 years; you can’t immediately ask her to become your mentor, review your résumé, introduce you to her boss, and expect her to name you in her will. Like, she just told you her name was Patricia. Now please, give Patricia a minute.
A meaningful professional relationship is still a relationship. Therefore, it takes time, trust, and mutual interest for it to work. That doesn’t mean you should never ask for help. Sometimes, a direct, respectful request is completely appropriate. But there’s a difference between asking someone for guidance and expecting them to personally escort you into your dream career. And remember, not every interaction has to produce an immediate opportunity. Sometimes, the opportunity is simply learning something that you didn’t know before.
The professional walk of shame
I find it so funny that the same generation that spends three business days debating whether to text somebody a simple “hey” is now expected to follow up with professionals without a second thought. Because what do you mean I should email this woman after I just met her? Wouldn’t that seem a little eager? What if she doesn’t remember me? What if she remembers me for the wrong reasons? And there it is. The overthinking.
But here’s the thing: following up isn’t desperate. It’s actually considerate.
A simple message thanking someone for their time, mentioning something you enjoyed discussing, and expressing interest in staying connected is more than enough. Now, if you’re reaching out with a specific question and haven’t received a response after about a week, a polite follow-up is reasonable. But if you’ve sent three emails, two LinkedIn messages, and are considering commenting “check your inbox” under her daughter’s graduation pictures: Baby, I personally ask that you put the phone down.
People get busy. Sometimes messages get buried. And sometimes they’re simply not interested or available. And while rejection is uncomfortable, it doesn’t mean you’ll never get where you want. You can appreciate someone’s expertise without requiring their attention. But what happens when they do respond? When you’ve exchanged emails, connected on LinkedIn and establish that neither of you is a complete stranger anymore?
Well, that’s where maintaining the connection comes in. And no, that doesn’t mean checking in every other Tuesday to remind Patricia that you’re still unemployed. Sometimes it can look like congratulating someone on a new position or promotion, or even simply reaching out because you genuinely want to know how they’re doing. The goal isn’t to remain visible just long enough for someone to offer you something. It’s to build a relationship worth maintaining, even when there’s nothing immediately in it for you.
they have a job title, not a crown.
There’s a particular kind of intimidation that comes with meeting someone who’s already accomplished what you’re still dreaming about. They have the title, the experience, the connections, the polished LinkedIn headshot. Meanwhile, you’re a college student whose greatest professional accomplishment this week was submitting an assignment before 11:59 PM. It can make you feel small.
But I think that’s where we get networking wrong. We start confusing someone’s professional accomplishment with their personal importance. Yes, they may have 20 years of experience, but they’re still human. They’ve probably spilled coffee on themselves, sent an email with a typo, or even waved at someone who wasn’t waving at them. (That’s totally embarrassing, by the way.) The point I’m trying to prove is that, at the end of the day, they’re a person who’s also living a real life just like you. The title doesn’t make them a different species. And being a beginner doesn’t make you less deserving of respect. Networking shouldn’t feel like you’re standing outside of a store with your face pressed against the glass window, begging your mom to get the new pair of shoes. You’re building a career, not applying for citizenship in someone else’s success.
The right doors SHOULDN’T require you to crawl through them.
And I think the most uncomfortable part of networking is how vulnerable we have to be, even when we’re being ambitious. It’s like you’re essentially telling someone, “Hey, here’s what I want to become, and I’m just hoping that you might be able to help me to get there.” And that’s scary. Because what happens when they don’t respond? When the conversation goes nowhere? When someone you admire seems completely uninterested in what you have to say?
It becomes so easy to internalize those moments. To start wondering if whether you’re interesting enough, accomplished enough, or simply just enough period. Especially when you’re still figuring out who you are professionally, it could seem like everyone already has a title, a five-year plan, and a LinkedIn announcement to prove it. But somebody’s inability or unwillingness to help does not determine your potential. And while networking can absolutely create opportunities, it shouldn’t become another measuring cup of our worth by how much validation we receive. We can absolutely still admire people and what they have without putting them on pedestals. You can ask for guidance without being inferior. And we can still pursue opportunities without treating relationships like transactions. We can do all of that without abandoning the very personality that make us worth connecting with in the first place.
And maybe the secret to networking isn’t learning how to make important people like you. But what if it’s learning how to approach people without assuming their approval is the price of your success? Because I don’t know about you, but I’d rather leave a room with one genuine connection than 20 business cards from people who wouldn’t recognize me in an elevator. And if I happen to leave with the internship, a mentor, or a job offer? Well, you certainly won’t find me complaining. But I’d prefer to earn a seat at the table without having to become the centerpiece.