Networking stinks.
Yes, I said it.
Why?
The Oxford English Dictionary defines networking as “the action or process of making use of a network of people for the exchange of information, etc., or for professional or other advantage.” That definition doesn’t help very much. Et cetera is an indication of continued similar things. “Other advantage” is just that, other. When the dictionary is leaning on me to fill in the blanks and continue the list, I know immediately I’m in trouble.
“It’s just networking,” you say. If I press further for what networking means, you’ll go on to tell me, “Networking is just talking to other people to see if there is a potential business relationship.” This is the point when I feel like my chances of achieving success in networking move from possible to unlikely.
Frankly speaking, I consider myself successful. I have managed to excel at one of the world’s most difficult occupations (derivatives trader) for longer than 20 years, started and exited a company in an entirely different industry, and now serve as CFO for a hyper-growth startup while advising several others. Every professional position I’ve ever held originated from a referral through friends, family, or former clients. Some might argue those routes are networking, but the primary goal of networking, as I see it, is to expand your professional circle, not deepen engagements with those already inside it.
Networking is difficult, if not impossible, for many other autistic individuals as well. I asked a few people I consider to be expert networkers what their definition of networking is, and each one had a different definition or desired outcome for networking. When the collective definition is not unanimous, interpretation creeps in, and that’s when it starts to get dicey for autistic individuals. Talking to strangers is difficult in general and doing so while selling yourself (while not overselling) without a finite conclusion is like swimming in a sea of subjectivity, and that’s only the beginning. Once you establish connections, it’s your job to maintain those connections to keep the network alive and growing. In many ways, networking is a professional version of life: a series of conversations with no explicitly stated desired outcome. Meet new people (hard), make small talk (harder), follow up when appropriate (how do I even determine that?).
There is no specific or exact way to network, just varied and sometimes contradictory suggestions for how to do it. There is no order of operations. There is not a checklist or ruleset. There are only people with all of their communication complexities, the kinds I cannot interpret in my personal life, much less professional. Successful networking is grounded in understanding when you can bring value to another person’s life or when their services bring value to yours, and doing anything to upset either (pitching something they don’t need, wasting their time or yours) will terminate that relationship.
Unfortunately, most people don’t come right out and declare their needs. It’s also quite rare for someone to eliminate or prevent any further communication when no relationship possibility exists. It’s more polite to “keep the door open” so you can spin your wheels chasing them because they feigned interest instead of honestly stating the opposite.
Tweaking Networking to Work for Us
Enough of the negatives though, we autistics prefer our pragmatism rooted in positivity. All is not lost in the realm of networking for us. We just need to tweak it a little, make it for us. When it comes to the introduction phase, I’ve found that structured networking events with participation plans are much easier to navigate. Some have rules or goals, others have ways to force conversations around specific topics, which I believe makes it easier for all, not just autistic, individuals.
Once the hurdle of getting to know someone is passed, I adjust my approach to fostering my network as well. I don’t reach out often, only when I know I’m bringing value, so my brand of networking means those in my circle have learned it’s worthwhile to entertain my calls. Conversely, by letting others know when there isn’t a fit during introductions, I typically only receive inbound communication when there is a need that fits both parties. If there is not, I politely thank them for thinking of me while restating what does fit for me.
By filtering and limiting my communication both ways, I reduce my interactions, providing calm and simplicity in my work life while still participating in “networking,” whatever that word actually means.
Born, raised, and residing in Chicago, Kyle Lintner is an unapologetic Cubs fan, free market enthusiast, and logical tamer of risk. A supply-chain consultant by trade, he spends his free time volunteering for organizations dedicated to enriching the lives of those who share with him a particular characteristic: autism spectrum disorder.
The post Networking Stinks. But It Could Be Better. first appeared on Organization for Autism Research.
