I low key hate networking.
That's saying a lot coming from an extrovert. I like people. I like conversation. I like making real connections. But slap the word networking on it and I'm out.
The idea of showing up to a 7am breakfast on a Friday to position myself as a competent professional in front of strangers also positioning themselves holds zero appeal. It feels a little gross. An agenda masquerading as an invitation to connect, slathered in powdered eggs and fruit cocktail.
And yet. Last Friday, I was at a networking event.
I sipped bad coffee from a flimsy paper cup. I did my best to look interested in people who mostly wanted to talk about themselves. Then I made my way to table 7.
The friend who had invited me seemed genuinely glad I came and took his time introducing me around. It all felt pretty perfunctory until he said,
"Mark, this is Gabe."
"Wait. I know you," Mark said.
I did not know Mark. "Oh yeah, you look familiar too," I said. A complete lie, but it made the people pleaser in me feel better.
Mark stared at me, mind churning, trying to locate the memory. "Did you ever go to Forest Hill Church?"
"I grew up there."
"Your dad is Gerry. Your mom is Pam. You have two younger brothers."
I was stunned. Who is this guy? How does he know my family?
What he said next changed how I think about networking breakfasts forever.
"I prayed for you for seven years."
Back in the early nineties, our church had a program where adults volunteered to pray for a middle or high school student by name. Mark drew mine when I was in seventh grade. And he didn't quit. Seven years. For my faith, my future, my life. For a kid he had never really met.
In that moment, my disdain for the business leaders' breakfast turned into something closer to awe. Gratitude for Mark. For his faithfulness. For a connection made thirty years ago that somehow rippled all the way to table 7.
I decided right there that I like networking after all.
Here's what Mark taught me. I walked into that room with an agenda, even if my agenda was mostly to get through it. Everyone in the room had one. And an agenda is a filter. It tells you in advance who matters and what counts, which means you walk right past everything you didn't plan for.
Mark was the thing I didn't plan for.
So here's the shift I'm practicing, and I'd invite you to try it at your next one. Trade the agenda for a posture. Walk in curious instead of strategic. Ask one real question of every person you meet, and then actually listen to the answer. Not to find the opening for your pitch. To find the person.
I still don't love bad coffee, powdered eggs, or small talk. But I love what one random connection can do. You never know who has been rooting for you the whole time.
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