I can count on one hand the number of networking events I’ve attended without leaving early, crying in the car, or fantasizing about disappearing into the nearest potted plant.
Networking events are supposed to be about making connections, but for me, they feel more like running an emotional and sensory gauntlet. Fancy clothes, tight spaces, and loud conversations? It’s my personal trifecta of social misery.
Why Networking Events Are a Nightmare
- The Noise: Everyone talking at once, the clinking of glasses, the background music—it’s like trying to hold a conversation inside a blender.
- The Small Talk: “What do you do?” “How’s the weather?” Small talk feels like being stuck in a video game where all the dialogue options are meaningless.
- The Sensory Overload: Tight clothing, uncomfortable shoes, and overly perfumed air make me want to peel off my skin.
- The Unspoken Rules: Networking has its own hidden etiquette—when to hand out your card, how to end a conversation politely—and I always feel like I’m failing a test I didn’t study for.
A Networking Horror Story
A few years ago, I attended a high-profile industry mixer. I’d practiced my elevator pitch, picked out an outfit that didn’t feel like a sensory death trap, and even Googled “how to network like a pro.”
The moment I walked in, I was hit by a wall of noise and people. I spent the first ten minutes hovering near the buffet, pretending to be fascinated by a plate of cheese cubes.
When someone finally approached me, I panicked. Instead of introducing myself, I blurted out, “Hi, I love cheese!”
The awkward silence that followed was deafening.
How I Navigate Networking Events Now
- Set Small Goals: Instead of trying to meet everyone in the room, I aim to have two meaningful conversations.
- Take Breaks: I’ll step outside or find a quiet corner to recharge when I feel overwhelmed.
- Bring a Buddy: Having a friend or colleague there makes the whole experience less intimidating.
- Focus on Listening: Asking questions and letting others do most of the talking takes the pressure off me.
My Networking Survival Kit
- Comfortable Shoes: No one will remember your shoes, but you’ll remember the blisters.
- Noise-Canceling Earbuds: For quick sensory resets in the bathroom or outside.
- Business Cards: Handing one over is an easy way to exit a conversation gracefully.
- A Social Prop: A drink, a notebook, or even a portfolio to hold onto gives my hands something to do.
Why I Still Go (Even When I Hate It)
Despite the discomfort, I’ve had some of my best professional opportunities come from networking events. I met a mentor who helped me navigate the challenges of being autistic at work. I connected with a client who became a long-term collaborator.
Every once in a while, I’ll meet someone who gets it—someone who isn’t interested in schmoozing or status, but in real connection. Those moments make the chaos worth it.
Visual Snapshot
I’m sitting in my car outside a networking event, the engine idling as I rehearse my introduction for the tenth time. The soft glow of the streetlights filters through the window, and my hands fidget with a bracelet—a calming routine before stepping into the noise.
I take a deep breath, grab my bag, and head inside, reminding myself that survival is the only goal tonight.
FAQ
Q: Are all autistic people bad at networking?
A: Not necessarily. Many autistic people are excellent at forming deep, meaningful connections—but the structure of traditional networking events often works against us.
Q: How can event organizers make networking more accessible?
A: Provide quiet spaces for breaks, minimize background noise, and offer multiple ways to connect (e.g., name tags with conversation prompts).
Q: Is it okay to skip networking events entirely?
A: Of course! If networking events are too overwhelming, there are other ways to build connections, like online communities or one-on-one meetings.
Final Thoughts
Networking events may never be my favorite thing, but I’ve learned how to make them bearable—and sometimes even beneficial.
If you’re like me and dread the thought of stepping into a room full of strangers, know that it’s okay to approach it on your terms. You don’t have to be the loudest or most charismatic person in the room to make meaningful connections.
And if you need me, I’ll be the one by the buffet, pretending I didn’t just say something weird about cheese.
