I was at this massive tech mixer in Austin back in 2018—I think it was during SXSW, but the whole week is a blur of bad tacos and humidity—and I spent exactly forty-seven minutes locked in a bathroom stall at the Hilton. I wasn’t sick. I was just hiding. I could hear the muffled roar of three hundred ‘young professionals’ outside clinking glasses and saying things like ‘synergy’ and ‘bandwidth,’ and the thought of walking back out there made my skin itch. I eventually snuck out the back exit and went to a movie by myself. I felt like a total failure.

Most people tell you that networking is about ‘building authentic relationships’ or ‘finding your tribe.’ That’s a lie. Or at least, it’s a version of the truth that only applies if you actually like talking to strangers. For the rest of us, networking is a performance. It’s a transaction. And honestly? That’s okay. Once I stopped trying to make ‘real friends’ at these things and started treating it like a very specific, slightly boring job, everything got easier.

The ‘Just Be Yourself’ advice is actually toxic

If I were ‘myself’ at a professional event, I would be sitting in a corner with a plate of cheese cubes, not talking to anyone, and checking my watch every six minutes. Telling an introvert to ‘be yourself’ at a networking event is like telling a cat to be a golden retriever. It’s fundamentally bad advice because the entire environment is designed for extroverts. It’s loud, it’s fast-paced, and it rewards the person who can bark the loudest.

I used to think I was broken because I couldn’t do the ‘room-roving’ thing. I was completely wrong. You don’t need to be the life of the party to get what you need out of a career. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. You aren’t there to be liked. You are there to be useful and to find people who are useful to you. It sounds cold, but it’s more honest than pretending we’re all there to find our soulmates in a Marriott ballroom.

Stop trying to be charming. Aim for ‘mildly interesting and brief’ instead.

I have this theory that people who genuinely enjoy work happy hours are just avoiding their families or don’t have hobbies. I know people will disagree with that, and it’s probably unfair, but I’ve never met a truly happy, well-adjusted person who said, ‘Man, I can’t wait to stand in a crowded bar with my coworkers and talk about Q3 projections for three hours.’ It’s a performance. We’re all just doing the dance.

The Information Extraction Method

Since I hate small talk, I turned networking into a research project. I call it the Information Extraction Method. Instead of trying to talk about the weather or the ‘vibe’ of the conference, I have three specific questions I ask everyone. That’s it. No more, no less. It makes me feel like a journalist rather than a desperate person looking for a job.

• “What’s the one thing your boss is obsessed with right now that actually doesn’t matter?”
• “If you quit tomorrow, what’s the first thing you’d delete from your computer?”
• “What’s a tool your company uses that everyone hates?” (Usually, the answer is Jira or some bloated CRM).

These questions work because they invite people to complain a little bit. Bonding over shared frustrations is 10x faster than bonding over shared successes. People love to vent. If you let them vent to you for five minutes, they will walk away thinking you are a ‘great conversationalist’ even if you barely said a word.

It’s a trick. Total lie.

The LinkedIn wasteland and why I hate it

I have a very specific, probably irrational hatred for LinkedIn. I refuse to use the ‘congratulations on the new role’ button. It feels like a robot trying to mimic human joy. I also think the people who post those long, multi-paragraph stories about ‘what my toddler taught me about B2B sales’ should be banned from the internet for at least a month. It’s performative nonsense.

However, I did a little experiment last year because I was bored and looking for a new contract. I sent 112 cold outreach messages over the course of four months. I tracked everything in a spreadsheet—name, company, message type, response time. I found that when I used the standard ‘I’d love to connect and learn about your journey’ template, my response rate was about 8%. It was depressing.

Then I changed tactics. I started looking for specific typos or broken links on their company’s website or in their personal portfolio. I’d send a message saying, ‘Hey, just a heads up, the link in your footer is broken, thought you’d want to know.’ My response rate jumped to 48%. People don’t want to ‘connect.’ They want to not look stupid. If you help them not look stupid, they’ll talk to you.

Anyway, I digress. The point is that ‘networking’ online is just as much of a chore as it is in person, but at least you can do it without wearing uncomfortable shoes. Speaking of shoes, I once wore a pair of brand-new loafers to a conference in Chicago and by hour three, my heels were actually bleeding. I had to buy overpriced Band-Aids from a gift shop that cost $12. I still resent those shoes. I keep them in my closet as a reminder to never try too hard again.

How to leave a conversation without being a jerk

This is the hardest part for introverts. We get trapped. We find one person who isn’t terrifying, and we cling to them like a life raft for the entire night. This is a mistake. You’re both there to work the room, and you’re preventing them from doing their job too.

I used to think I needed a clever excuse to leave. I don’t. Now I just say, ‘It was great meeting you, I’m going to go grab another drink/hit the restroom/check my phone.’ And then I walk away. You don’t owe anyone a fifteen-minute exit strategy. Most people are relieved when a conversation ends because they’re just as tired as you are.

One thing I’ve learned—and I might be wrong about this, but it’s held true for me—is that the most ‘important’ people in the room are usually the ones standing by the food. Not the ones in the center of the circle. The people in the center are performers. The people by the shrimp cocktail are the ones who actually make the decisions and just want to eat their lunch in peace. Talk to the shrimp people.

I’ve been doing this for twelve years now. I still hate it. Every time I have to go to a ‘networking mixer,’ I have to give myself a pep talk in the car. I usually listen to something loud and aggressive to get my energy up, and then I set a timer on my phone for ninety minutes. When the timer goes off, I leave. No matter what. Even if I’m in the middle of a ‘great’ conversation.

Does this make me a bit of a hermit? Probably. But I’ve never lost a job or missed an opportunity because I left a party at 8:30 PM. The world keeps spinning. The ‘hustle’ culture people want you to believe that if you aren’t the last person at the bar, you’re failing. They’re usually the ones with three divorces and a caffeine addiction. Don’t listen to them.

I don’t know if this actually helps anyone, or if I’m just shouting into the void about my own social anxiety. But if you’re the person hiding in the bathroom stall at the Hilton, just know that I’ve been there. It’s okay to hate it. Just do the performance, get your data, and go home to your cat. That’s the real secret.

Ninety minutes. Then leave.