Welcome To The Real World Harry
Networking blows. Let's get that out of the way up front. You've probably been encouraged several times throughout life to Be A Good Networker.
Don't be afraid to ask for a follow up lunch - Love, Mom
It's fundamental to getting a job and moving up in the world, but not really because if you're good enough, well then you're just good enough. You don't need to network because your goods/services/dick is just that special. Congratulations.
For the other 99.9% of us, life requires pretending we give a shit about a lot of people and things we don't. When doing it actively and in a business/professional manner, you call that "Networking".
Getting coffee and setting up happy hours and joining that nonprofit junior-board to maybe get a new client but OOPS turns out you're just gonna end up in some complicated sexual but not trusting relationship with another board member. You avoid each other at the annual gala. Everyone knows it's awkward so you start ghosting the chapter meetings.
Next up is the Saturday night charity event your company bought a table for 10 but no one can make it. Your boss makes it sound like an opportunity when he asks you:
A couple spots JUST opened up and it's like seriously a big deal
When in reality he was just too lazy to ask any of his clients and got dumped with the table last second because nobody really cares.
And you get a plus one
You contemplate bringing your buddy Frank because he loves an open bar and you two historically rip it up together. But then you remember it's a big deal so you bring that girl from the junior charity board. You guys made up over a couple 3am fireballs at The Store and some hot, vague sex at her place after. So she's down to go to this charity event with you. The following weekend. Nice.
You get your Bonobos suit dry-cleaned, a bottle of titos and 20mg of adderall split in two. You text your date:
Pregame's ready
An hour later you're walking into a downtown Sheraton for the 14th annual Midwest Orthopedics (At Rush) Semi Annual Gala Fundraiser. You're the youngest guy in the room by 9 years notwithstanding a few of the doctors' kids.
Did you bring your business cards?
Fuck. You forgot your business cards. How could you forget your business cards.
You spend the next 4 hours gassing house wine, eating beef tenderloin and walking through a silent auction. The closest thing you can afford is a pair of Chicago White Sox box seats that someone donated. Going bid is $80. You sign your name to avoid feeling like a total pussy, but deep down you hope someone comes over the top for those September tickets.
No one does. You're out $80.
Elsewhere the live auction comes and goes. They play some emotional videos about new hip surgeries that are fueling the way for longer lives. No one talks about the ensuing havoc that will wreak on the pension and retirement systems but you don't mind. You're hammered.
The event concludes without you really doing anything. You made a lot of small talk but it went absolutely no where because absolutely no one cares. You're now at the coat check looking for an after party but there isn't one with your name on it because you're not 45-years old and heading to the viagra triangle or a Gold Coast penthouse.
So you go back to The Store. The 3am bar in Lincoln Park. You in your suit. Your date in her arguably slutty cocktail dress no one seemed to mind. Drinking fireball shots and wondering exactly what the fuck it means to Network at a charity event.
BACK TO HARRY
Bob Iger clearly doesn't give a fuck. No offense. Bob Iger is an A+ human being. I'm just reading tea-leaves and he don't give a fuck. That's what I was talking about the .01% of people who don't have to network. The second Harry dropped the Prince from his name he became one of us. What a fucking idiot.
