I’m the problem, it’s me (or it could be you?)

Networking is hard and complex. Recognise we are all human, with needs and anxiety

I’ve been thinking a lot about networking lately. Networking, especially when it involves connecting with people who can further your career or add value to your business, is a more complex beast than most people think. Ultimately, networking “for business reasons” is a transactional process, but it is also a human one. No one wants to be treated like a useful rung on a career ladder or a fat wallet for pilfering, only to be discarded when no longer helpful.

Years ago, I wrote a bemused blog post after listening to someone outline his practical advice for effective networking. One tip involved researching the personal tastes of people you want to connect with. For example, he said, “This person could love Japanese food, make sure you have a list of great sushi restaurants in the area to recommend to them.” (I had to bite my lip to stop from laughing out loud at that one.)

It sounded so unnatural, so transactional, so (I can say it, because I am one) American. However, lessons on how to win friends and influence people are literally a cottage industry. Meeting the right person, who just so happens to have £75,000 left in their end-of-the-year marketing budget, could mean the difference between your company surviving or dying on its feet.

I live in an odd place, where I am viewed as a resource, a contact point, and a connector for many people. I am familiar with a broad cross-section of the industry. I am just as likely to sit next to a 24-year-old founder or a newly minted trade reporter as I am to sit next to a former German Minister of Finance or an award-winning economist.

I’ve also been on the receiving end of a dismissive glance, where, after a 10-second evaluation, I’m filed away as a “nobody” and waved off. A few years ago, my handshake and “So nice to meet you” greeting with someone I was interested in speaking to was met with a withering “We’ve met”. (We hadn’t met before, by the way). Someone asked my opinion of them a few weeks ago. I responded that truthfully, I had minimal experience working with them, but I recited that interaction, which I will remember forever.

Connecting is hard, whether you have Dale Carnegie memorised or are just winging it with people at the drinks reception who just don’t want to discuss stablecoins anymore either. This brings me to two actions, two sides of the same coin, which have always caused me anxiety. Anyone who speaks at events, publishes useful content, or writes opinion pieces will have received this direct message.

“Are you free for a coffee…?”

I left off the last part of this request because here is where the question bifurcates. One version causes me so much anxiety, and the other brings out a tiny bit of Liz-style rage. Both trigger vulnerable emotions in me.

First with the rage.

“Are you free for a coffee … I would love to pick your brain.”

OK – I know there is a whole strain of hustle-culture, life in the day of a CEO (I start with mediation at 4 am, before jogging to my favourite boulangerie for protein-infused, oat milk pond water…🤮) LinkedIn posts about “giving back” and “book 15 minutes free with me”.

That ain’t me. For several reasons.

The above “offer” isn’t philanthropic. It’s faux humble-brag marketing. What you are saying, in an indirect way, is that your insights are soooooo valuable, so useful, that you are willing to doll them out in 15-minute tasters, ya know, for “the community”. Give me a break.

There are other reasons why ‘can I pick your brain’ sends me into the red mist. Many of these requests have tended to come when I was looking for work. Several years ago, after the company I was working for let 24 of us go, I said yes to all of these “let’s have a cup of coffee” requests. Naively, I thought I would try to show myself in my best light. How much experience I had, the knowledge I gained, what my skill sets were – expertly explained in practical terms.

I gave away everything that made me valuable, for free.

One guy (again, someone else I will never forget) took me out for coffee, with the request that “they were trying to build” something I had a lot of experience in. I was excited, I explained in painstaking detail, how I would set up an organisation like the one he mentioned. He took extensive notes.

He paid the bill, £2.50 for a latte, and I never heard from him again. (And yes, I tried to follow up.)

I’m worth more than £2.50.

I am a human who has a mortgage, a child at uni, a weekly shop at Sainsbury’s, and not a hell of a lot of time to waste letting just anyone “pick my brain” without it meaning anything for me. I’m sorry to sound “transactional”, but I have been burned too many times.

Now for the other side of the coin.

When “Can we meet for a coffee…?” comes from someone who sees me as a benevolent force, someone who has been around the innovation labs and who can lend advice or help as they start their career journeys.

“Please let me know if you take on any mentees,” read one request, as my heart sank.

Doesn’t this person know what a screw up I am? How I’ve made every mistake in the book and paid for them dearly?

You might think this experience makes me the perfect mentor. But these requests cause me panic. What if I can’t help them? What if I don’t have a usable answer? What if I don’t know the exact person at the exact organisation this person wants an intro to? What if I fail to help someone in the way I wish someone had supported me at various times throughout my career?

Undiagnosed anxiety is a bitch.

Listen, I don’t know how you network. But here’s my take.

I will always be a safe place at events for anyone to approach, ask a question of, or just have a chin wag about absolutely anything outside of stablecoins.

If you ask for a coffee, either 1. Make me an offer, let me know what’s in it for me, or 2. Bear with me as this 53-year-old deals with generational trauma before responding.

If I say “hi” at an event, and you don’t see me as “useful”, be nice for five minutes. I may never be of help to you, but I know many people, and someday someone you wish to connect with might reach out to me, asking about you. I have a long memory.

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One year ago this week I, along with 73,000 other people, saw Taylor Swift at Murrayfield Stadium in Edinburgh. She didn’t sing this song as part of her Eras Tour set. But it was the song going through my head as I wrote this post.