Networking

Networking is a funny thing to me.  I've never been socially adept.  Karen thinks I have a mild form of Asperger's, but I disagree.  The way I was raised which, in all honesty, was just short of living a hermit's life, contributes to my social awkwardness.  Since I take offense at less than most people, I don't see why people take such offense at my foibles, but they do.

Now that I'm in business for myself, by necessity I have to socialize.  I've never suffered fools lightly, and as I age I find even less tolerance for them.  What's more, I'm not adroit when it comes to small talk, chit-chat if you will.  I can easily zone out while someone's telling me about their beloved kitten because, (a) I'm not a cat person, (b) I want to know how to get more business from them more than I want to know about the cat's litterbox habits and (c) there's a sporting event on somewhere that has more importance than any of this.  At the same time, I think the other person should be fascinated by my talking points because, well, they're mine.

So I've launched myself into this networking thing without a safety net.  Thus far, I haven't caused any notable or lasting damage to either myself or my interlocutors, although only time will tell. Along the way, and contrary to every preconceived idea I had before I began this, I've actually enjoyed a lot of the meetings I've had.

In the group to which I belong, we're encouraged to do one-to-ones, otherwise known as 121's.  I've taken to pimping myself out, my derisive term for being brazen enough to invite perfect strangers to sit down with me, break bread, and tell me their lifes' stories.  Of the approximately twenty-five people with whom I've met, I can honestly say I was never bored, although I chafed a little bit at being told by one person how to conduct a client consultation, something I've been doing for over two decades perfectly well without the assistance of this well-intentioned but uninformed former minister.  Men and women, young and old, they've all had some interesting facet of their lives that I've gleaned and which made my life richer for knowing.

I met a man whose parents were missionaries, so he ended up born in Brazil, is a dual national and who speaks fluent Portuguese.  I met a German woman who came here while I was in Spain and has blended into society with her still noticeable Teutonic accent.  I met a former hockey prodigy whose life was derailed by an Achilles injury right before he began college, costing him his scholarship.  I met another woman who was married twice and is now trying the dating scene again, fearlessly, as she raises her three sons.

There was the vet who served in 'Nam, the former prosecuting attorney now a criminal defense attorney, and the accountant with the heart of gold.  The insurance guy who belongs to virtually every organization under the sun and who lived next door to where I used to live sponsored me into this group, the guy whose children were adopted from Russia before Putin cut off foreign adoptions to this country and the young attorney about to take the bar all had their stories to tell.  What I read once is really true:  If I speak I tell you a story I already know, but if I listen to you I learn something I didn't know.  How true, how true.

I'll still never be suave and debonaire.  James Bond has nothing to fear from me.  I'll never write any how-to guides on etiquette.  But I'm enjoying this foray into society, finding that whatever my shortcomings may be, I haven't scared anyone yet.

(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles