I spent $450 on a ticket to a “strategic networking summit” in 2019 and the only thing I left with was a mild case of food poisoning and a stack of business cards from people who haven’t replied to an email in four years. I remember standing by the buffet table at a Marriott in Chicago, clutching a lukewarm Heineken and watching a guy in a fleece vest try to explain “disruption” to a woman who clearly just wanted to find the exit. It was pathetic. Truly. I looked at the pile of 42 business cards I’d collected by the end of the night and realized I didn’t actually like a single person I’d spoken to. Not one. We were all just there to see what we could get from each other, like a bunch of scavengers circling a very dry, very corporate bone.
Networking events are a scam. They are a performative ritual designed to make us feel productive while we’re actually just avoiding the hard work of building real relationships. Most of the people who attend these things are either trying to sell you something you don’t need or they’re looking for a job they aren’t qualified for. I know people will disagree with this, and they’ll point to that one time they met their co-founder at a hackathon, but that’s the exception that proves the rule. For the rest of us, it’s just a massive drain on our time and our dignity.
The Hilton ballroom fever dream
There is a specific kind of depression that only exists in a hotel ballroom at 7:30 PM on a Tuesday. It’s the smell of cheap carpet cleaner mixed with overpriced sliders. Everyone is wearing their “professional” mask, which usually involves a slightly too-tight blazer and a smile that doesn’t reach their eyes. I used to think you had to say yes to every coffee invite and every “mixer” to get ahead. I was completely wrong. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. The venue itself is the problem. You cannot build a foundation of trust while shouting over a bad DJ in a room full of strangers who are all looking over your shoulder to see if someone more important just walked in.
I tracked my 2018-2019 data on this because I’m a nerd who likes spreadsheets. I spent exactly 114 hours at these events over eighteen months. I spent $2,400 on entry fees, Ubers, and drinks. Total ROI? Zero. Not a single lead, not a single mentor, and not a single friend. I actually refuse to use Eventbrite anymore because the UI is clunky and it feels like a graveyard for professional ambition. Every time I see a notification for a “Business After Hours” event, I feel a physical wave of nausea.
If you’re at a networking event on a Tuesday night, you’re probably failing at your actual job.
That might sound harsh, but think about it. The people who are actually doing the work—the ones you actually want to know—are busy doing the work. They aren’t passing out QR code business cards at a Marriott. (By the way, if you use one of those plastic business cards that feel like a credit card, I automatically assume you’re trying to sell me a pyramid scheme. Anyway…)
The 3-step strategy for an inner circle that actually works
I realized that if I wanted a real inner circle, I had to stop “networking” and start curating. I needed people who would take my call at 11 PM when a project was falling apart, not people who would “add me to their network” on LinkedIn and then ignore my messages. Here is how I actually did it, and it has worked infinitely better than any mixer ever could.
Step 1: The “Specific Interest” Filter
Stop trying to meet “everyone.” It’s a waste of breath. Instead, I started looking for people who were doing one specific thing better than me. For example, I wanted to learn how to handle difficult client negotiations without losing my cool. I didn’t go to a negotiation seminar. I found three people in my city who were known for being “tough but fair” and I followed their work for six months. I didn’t reach out immediately. I just watched. I read what they wrote. I understood their perspective. Most people skip this part and just jump into the DMs like a thirsty teenager. Don’t do that.
Step 2: The “Low-Stakes Value” Drop
This is the part where most people get weird. They think “providing value” means offering to buy someone coffee. Nobody wants your coffee. They have coffee. What they don’t have is time. I tested a specific outreach method in 2022: I sent 12 cold emails to people I admired. I didn’t ask for a meeting. I just sent them a specific resource—a data point, a link to a niche tool, or a piece of feedback on something they’d recently published—that was actually relevant to their current project. Out of those 12, 4 turned into deep, ongoing professional friendships. That’s a 33% success rate. Compare that to the 0% I got from 50+ networking events. It’s not even close.
I might be wrong about this, but I think the reason this works is that it proves you aren’t a parasite. You’re a peer. Even if you’re “below” them in the hierarchy, you’re acting like someone who contributes rather than someone who just consumes. Networking events are for consumers. Inner circles are for contributors.
Step 3: The 4-Person Dinner Rule
Once you have a few of these connections, you have to protect them. I started hosting these small, 4-person dinners at my house. No agendas. No business cards. Just good food and honest conversation. I make a point to invite people who don’t know each other but have one weird thing in common—like they all obsess over 90s mountain bikes or they all hate the same specific software. These dinners are where the real magic happens. It’s where the “inner circle” actually forms. Networking events are like speed dating with people who only want to talk about their SaaS product; these dinners are like a slow Sunday morning with people who actually give a damn about you.
Being an absolute jerk about who gets your time
I’ve become very picky. Genuinely, I think I’m probably a bit of an asshole about it now. I decline 95% of the “can I pick your brain” requests I get. I don’t do it because I think I’m better than anyone; I do it because my time is the only thing I can’t buy more of. I’ve realized that my inner circle—the 5 to 10 people I actually trust—is like a high-end kitchen knife. It needs to be sharpened constantly, or it’s just a dangerous, useless piece of metal. If I spend all my time at mixers, my knife gets dull.
I refuse to recommend certain “popular” local business groups even though everyone in my town loves them. Why? Because they’re just echo chambers for people who like the sound of their own voices. I’d rather spend a Tuesday night reading a book or staring at a wall than sitting through another “elevator pitch” session. It’s an extreme stance, I know. But since I stopped “networking,” my income has gone up, my stress has gone down, and I actually have people in my life who would help me bury a body (metaphorically speaking, mostly).
I used to feel guilty for saying no. I thought I was closing doors. But the truth is, most of those doors lead to rooms you don’t want to be in anyway. Why would you want to be in a room where everyone is looking for the exit?
The real question is: If you stopped going to every event on your calendar for the next three months, who would actually notice you were gone? Those are the people you should be talking to. Everyone else is just noise.
Stop the hustle. Build a circle. It’s much quieter that way.