On the list
of my Greatest Fears (a list that ranges all the way from Uncomfortable
Underwear to Robot Led Apocalypse) one of the most highly ranked concerns to
plague my mind is my Fear of Showing Up at the Wrong Place at the Wrong
Time. Its genesis can be found in a
teenage incident in which I was dropped off at boarding school a day
early. It’s the reason I get cold sweats
when arriving at fancy dress gatherings.
Every now and then something happens to reinforce my Fear – like the
charming HR woman a few years back who instructed me (through several
clarifying emails and phone calls) that I was to start my new job on the 1st
of January. In her defence, how was she
to know that the entire building was shut down on New Year’s Day? She was
on holiday after all.
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| The other source of my fear of fancy dress gatherings |
In any case
I am quite certain that this, my Fear of Showing Up at the Wrong Place at the
Wrong Time, is one of the major contributing factors to the unparalleled wave of
Awkward I bring along with me when attending any type of Function. Here I use the word ‘Function’ as an umbrella
term for those genre-less, mystifyingly dress coded gatherings in which one
must make unending small talk with complete strangers while exuding charm,
grace and confidence, not to mention managing the Olympian juggling act of
sipping, nibbling and having a business card at the ready… all at the same
time. Some people call this
Networking. I call this Dying Slowly.
Through a
series of inexplicable events I found myself at two such gatherings recently. Though I failed (like a movie about a board
game involving battleships, which is to say utterly) at the social side of both
events, I did pick up some advice on the matter.
And now I
feel it is my duty to all similarly awkward individuals (who would rather gnaw
off their own hand than ‘work a room’), to share that advice as some sort of
emergency kit should they ever get backed into a hall filled with finger food
that’s being held by people who smile with ‘good-humoured interest’ while
glancing over your shoulder.
Let’s called
it The Painefull Guide to Surviving a
Networking Situation and Hopefully Only Dying on the Inside. Catchy, huh?
Who needs 5 words when you can use 15 (asked no one ever)? Scrap that, let’s just begin by saying this:
like Law & Order, there are two schools of thought when it comes to
approaching a ‘networking opportunity’, those that wish to blend in, and those
that wish to stand out… these are their stories.
TRYING TO
BLEND IN
EVENT 1:
Let’s call this the McMidney Milm Mestival Launch
Ah yes, the
McMidney Milm Mestival Launch… I managed around 10 minutes of gormless smiling
while clutching a Launch program (and somehow sweating through said program, applying printers ink to my hands, which I then
thoughtfully transferred to my chin half an hour later when I drummed my
fingers there while squinting into the middle distance in a failed attempt to
appear intelligent and engaged). Then I
enacted my sacred right to text a friend.
Am currently trapped at a function where I
know NO ONE. Any tips on how to look
busy, yet casual, yet totally at ease??
I sent this
text to Chesty, an old hand on the networking scene. Chesty replied with a stream of tidbits on
how to achieve this.
The Chesty
Manifesty on How to Blend In
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| The only time I am certain I will be able to blend in is during a zombie apocalypse. I'm still working on robots. |
1. “Do as I do and call your mum.”
This is a
classic manoeuvre that everyone has used at least once. The old ‘I’m so important, I’m so connected,
my phone is my office, I’m having an animated conversation which surely means
I’m awesome’ gambit. Sadly or me at the
Mestival Launch, when I called Mother Painefull she was two short sashays away
from having coffee with one of the Carols (my mother knows a lot of Carols – I think it’s a generational thing, because all
the Carols I know are her Carols).
2. “Go over to drinks/food/juice table at
same time as someone, give big smile to anyone else approaching and then make
lame joke about wishing it was late enough to drink or similar, use that to start
convo ‘what brings you here?’.”
As it turns
out the Mestival Launch crowd was not the group for me to test out comedy
bits. At all. They were quite serious about their tea.
3. “Ask someone near the bathroom where the
bathroom is. Go in and wait a few
minutes then go out and as you pass them say thanks and then sort of stay
nearby and start convo.”
Unfortunately
when I did this I was at the end of my networking tether, and thus I looked
frantic and sweaty – then I went into a stall and stood, pondering whether they
thought my frantic, sweaty appearance might mean something. Then I realised I had been pondering this
scenario for 10 minutes and wondered what they thought my 10 minute bathroom
visit was for – this became 20 minutes due to excess pondering. I then had no choice but to race out of the
bathroom avoiding all eye contact with those nearby in case they recognised me
from my previous faux bathroom questing interlude.
TRYING TO
STAND OUT
EVENT 2: The
Pinscription Polarship Pannouncement
Everyone loves
a Pannouncement, am I right? No. I’m lying.
If you nodded you’re lying (but you’re also physically reacting to
something written by me, so you’re not all bad). If you’re in any way associated with said
Pannouncement, if your name is say… on a short list, that intrinsically means
there is a medium to high chance that someone there will try to
engage you in conversation about yourself.
If you are inherently awkward, as I am, this is disastrous. You will make awful quips, you will become
clammy-handed, you will be tempted to get drunk. Lucky for me, at this Pannouncement, Mother
Painefull was on hand to show how it’s really done.
The
Mother Painefull Broadway Show-stopper On How to Stand Out
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| That's not a coat, this... is a coat |
1. Wear a loud jacket, it’s always a good
talking point
Mother
Painefull could have been spotted in a pitch black room, so brightly hued was
her coat. I didn’t get the memo. I wore black.
I was practically a waitress. In
mourning. Who was about to head to her
next gig as a stagehand at a high school production of Fiddler On the Roof
(which, FYI, is a challenging role, and not a ‘sympathy gig’ your drama teacher
gives you upon discovering 20 seconds into your audition that you cannot sing
to save yourself).
2. Conclude a bonding session with a
relative stranger by declaring her your new daughter (in front of one of your
current daughters)
Thus a new
talking point is raised for all involved.
Don’t take this talking point and spin it into an elaborate joke about
playing Sibling Survivor and kicking people out of the family. Not everyone can tell when you’re joking. Which might have been the problem at the
Mestival now that I think about it.
3. Upon the announcement of someone else
winning the prize, ask them if they will take you. Then tell everyone loudly that your daughter
(the old one, not the new one) in fact came second – several people will assume
that this means there is in fact a second place and she is talking with
authority. Then line up the winner for a
photo between the old daughter and some other shortlisted entrant and loudly
talk about getting a photo of the podium finish (telling the other shortlisted
entrant he came 3rd – he looks intrigued by this)
To be
honest, this one’s hard to replicate when your mother is already doing it. But I will say, Operation Stand Out… big
success.
If the above
two approaches to Networking completely fail, if you feel like a fraud, if you
need something to make you feel better… I would suggest, why not find someone
more awkward, stand near them, and let that comparison play to your strengths?
For me, at
the Pannouncement , that relief arrived when I overheard one Nervous Entrant in
conversation with Father Painefull.
FATHER PAINEFULL: The hosts said to make
ourselves at home…
NERVOUS ENTRANT: Yeah, they’ll never be able
to kick us out…
FP: Yes, I was thinking of checking out the
bedroom…
NE: I know!
I said to my girlfriend – what if we went and had sex in their bedroom?!
Now imagine
giant screeching cicadas. Father Painefull
looked mystified and discomforted in equal measure. I know my father well enough to know he was joking
about going upstairs for a nap (Father Painefull love a nap), and that randomly
discussing sex under any circumstances at a social gathering is as off-putting
to him as the idea of the two of us settling in to watch an episode of Game of
Thrones together would be for me.
At that
point I relaxed a touch. In fact I sighed
with relief that I was not the most awkward person in that moment. Of course I was relieved - I didn’t yet know
I was going to have to call Mother Painefull the next day to instruct her to please
stop telling people that I came second, because those people have begun to ring
me to congratulate me, and they seem to think I have won some sort of runner’s
up prize.
This is of
course impossible because at the Pannouncement, just as it is in life and Networking,
there is no second place whatsoever, just people looking at you with concern,
wondering why your eye is twitching.
Painefull
Out
