I spent $450 on a ticket to a “Future of Work” conference in Austin back in 2018, and I still regret it. I was standing in the lobby of the Driskill Hotel, clutching a lukewarm Shiner Bock, trapped in a circle of four guys all wearing identical navy Patagonia vests. One guy—I think his name was Tyler—literally looked over my shoulder while I was mid-sentence just to see if someone more important had walked into the room. It felt like being a used car, but the car is my personality. I ended up spilling half my beer on a VC’s suede loafers about ten minutes later. I didn’t even apologize; I just walked out and went to a taco stand by myself. It was the most honest moment of the whole weekend.
Networking is broken because we’ve turned it into an extraction industry. We treat people like copper ore to be mined for ‘leads’ or ‘introductions’ instead of, you know, actual human beings who might have a favorite soup or a weird obsession with 1950s architecture. It’s just gross.
The “Connector” is usually a parasite
I know people will disagree with me on this, and honestly, I might be wrong, but I’ve developed a deep-seated distrust for anyone who describes themselves as a “connector” in their LinkedIn bio. In my experience, these people are usually parasites. They don’t actually have any hard skills of their own, so they survive by hovering in the middle of other people’s talent, charging a sort of social tax for access. They aren’t building a community; they’re building a toll booth.
What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. A real connection happens because you both think the same thing is funny or you both hate the same specific piece of enterprise software. It doesn’t happen because a “connector” put you in a group chat with a “Value Add” subject line. I refuse to talk to anyone who uses the phrase “Value Add” in a non-ironic way. It’s a verbal red flag that says, “I have forgotten how to be a person.”
Professional networking has become a giant game of pretend where we all act like we’re interested in ‘synergy’ when we really just want a referral link.
I’ve started telling my friends to avoid BNI (Business Network International) like the plague. I know, I know—some people swear by it. But to me, it feels like a cult where you pay a membership fee to be forced to eat soggy scrambled eggs at 7 AM while listening to a plumber and a divorce attorney trade leads. It’s performative productivity. I’d rather stay in bed.
The “Coffee Chat” is an unpaid internship
Can we please stop asking to “pick people’s brains”? It’s a disgusting phrase. It sounds like something a zombie would say before a lobotomy. If you ask me for a “quick 20-minute coffee chat,” what you’re actually doing is asking for a free consulting session. You’re asking for my time, my energy, and my hard-earned mistakes, and in exchange, I get… what? A $5 latte that I have to stand in line for? No thanks.
I’ve become a bit of an extremist about this: I refuse to use Calendly. I think it’s an act of social aggression. Sending someone a link and telling them to “find a time that works” is basically saying your time is more valuable than theirs. It’s the digital equivalent of a king tossing a bone to a peasant. If we’re going to meet, we can do the back-and-forth email dance like civilized adults. It shows you actually care enough to type a sentence.
Anyway, I digress. The point is that the structure of modern networking assumes that everyone is available for harvest. It ignores the fact that most of us are tired, overworked, and would much rather talk about literally anything other than our “career trajectory.”
The 14-minute rule (and some actual data)
I’m a bit obsessive, so in 2022, I actually tracked every “networking” meeting I had. I recorded 42 different intros, Zoom calls, and meetups over the course of twelve months. I tracked the duration, the follow-up, and whether anything—tangible or emotional—actually came of it. Here is what I found:
- 38 out of 42 meetings (roughly 90%) resulted in exactly zero follow-up or value.
- The meetings that *did* work all had one thing in common: we stopped talking about work within the first 14 minutes.
- Every single person who wore a “professional” headshot with their arms crossed turned out to be a total bore. (I’m convinced arm-crossing in photos is a sign of a sociopath, but that’s a different blog post).
I call it the 14-minute wall. If you can’t find something non-work-related to talk about in the first 14 minutes—whether it’s your shared hatred of the New York subway or a mutual love for obscure Japanese stationery—the relationship is dead on arrival. You’re just two resumes barking at each other. It’s boring. Total waste of time.
How to actually build a connection that isn’t soul-sucking
So, how do you do it without feeling like a shark in a suit? It’s actually pretty simple, but it requires you to stop being “professional” for five minutes.
Last year, I joined a local ceramics class. I didn’t go there to network; I went there because I wanted to make a lopsided bowl. I ended up sitting next to a woman who, it turns out, is a high-level director at a tech company I’ve always admired. We didn’t talk about her job for three months. We talked about kiln temperatures and why my clay kept collapsing. By the time I found out what she did, we were already friends. When I eventually needed some advice on a project, I didn’t have to “pick her brain.” I just asked a friend for help.
That’s the secret: do stuff that has nothing to do with your job.
Go to a book club. Join a running group. Volunteer at a cat shelter. The best “networking” happens when you aren’t trying to network. It happens when you’re vulnerable, or frustrated, or laughing at something stupid.
A few other things that actually work:
- Send “no-ask” emails. Send someone a link to an article they’d actually like with a note that says, “No need to reply, just thought of you.” It’s the only form of digital networking that doesn’t feel like spam.
- Be specific with your praise. Don’t say “Great post!” Say “I loved the way you described the smell of that old office building in paragraph four.” It shows you actually have a pulse.
- Host small things. Not a “mixer.” A dinner for four people. Or a walk in the park. Low stakes, high intimacy.
Stop trying so hard
The more you try to “network,” the less people want to talk to you. It’s like dating; desperation has a very specific, very unpleasant scent. If you’re approaching every interaction with a goal in mind, you’ve already lost. People can feel the gears turning in your head. They can tell you’re just waiting for your turn to pitch.
I used to think I needed a perfect elevator pitch. I was completely wrong. Now, if someone asks what I do, I usually give a vague, slightly confusing answer just to see if they’re actually interested in me or just my job title. If they stop talking to me because I didn’t sound “impressive” enough, then I’ve successfully filtered out a person I didn’t want to know anyway. It’s a great system.
I don’t know if this is the “right” way to live in a world that is obsessed with optimization and “leveraging your circle” (ugh, I used the L-word). Maybe I’m just getting cranky as I get older. But I do know that the three people who have helped my career the most are people I met while complaining about the price of avocados or arguing about whether *The Last Jedi* was actually good.
Do you actually like the people you’re “networking” with, or are you just collecting them like Pokemon cards?
Stop being a node. Be a person. It’s much more interesting.