Professional networking in my pajamas is absolutely the best
By: Luis Berumen Castro
Tags: Technology, UX, Design, Remote Work, Product Design

When life closes a door, you open many zoom windows.

Nostalgia is a very thick layer of paint. All the people missing going to the office might not recall the daily commute in the train (or as I call it: “morning breath in a can”), the long lines to get a regretable $15 sandwich at the food court or the compounded smell of everybody’s microwaved lunch coming from the kitchen.

Same thing with networking events. I always admired professional networkers capable of jumping from and to a dozen conversations in one single night. They could not be happier swimming in a sea of people, they know everybody, and everybody knows them. That is not me, I like talking to people, but I am exhausted at the end of a large event!

Over time I have developed some unconventional networking strategies. I always tend to stay near the food table, so people gravitate towards my direction. It also gave me a great vantage point; if that person was picking food with his hands (especially during chicken wings night), maybe it is better not to engage him. I have been on the receiving end of way too many sticky chipotle-BBQ handshakes to make the usage of forks an absolute requirement to be part of a professional network. Chopsticks are cool; please do not think I am culturally insensitive.

This year many significant design events and conferences transitioned to online mode and most of them at a small fraction of the price. It is hard to explain how much radical change this is. It is a step forward for more inclusive design communities and the democratization of knowledge beyond physical boundaries. Not everybody could afford to take a week off from work, flying to NY, paying for accommodation/meals and adding a couple of hundred dollars of the entry-ticket on top.

For those who could invest, the opportunity cost of thoroughly enjoying it is way too high. Most large conferences had several events going simultaneously, and the chances of missing out on a great speaker because you picked a famous one were always present. FOMO UX style.

I always felt disappointed when a speaker got into “diva” mode, showing the same images from their website and not adding any more context of processes, what business goals drove this project and the challenges faced during its completion. Things just magically materialized from three lines of his sketchbook, and now you have the honour to pay to see him live.

The opposite is also an annoyance. Many design leaders are so good at what they do that every single sentence is worth the ticket. They are the LeBron James of UX Design, living in a whole different category than the rest of the mortals. I used to take many notes as possible on a tiny sketchpad, with my terrible handwriting, on almost zero-light conditions while trying to catch up with the latest pearl of knowledge dropped by the Design guru in front of me. Later on, I realize that my annotations are as readable and coherent as the Zodiac killer letters (hopefully less threatening).

After experiencing online design conferences, it is tough for me to make a case for a different format (leaving aside some technical glitches). The possibility to access an event in Taiwan from the most comfortable place in the world, my sofa, is something hard to trade-off. Business casual has become sweatpants, and most of us could use Movember as an excuse for not shaving. So really, the bar could not get any lower.

Online-conferences offer more tools to engage the audience. That awkward moment of raising your hand to get a microphone so you can ask a question and being horrified about how your voice sounds on the auditorium’s Dolby speakers. Now, it could not be more straightforward than typing.

At the same time, the participants can provide meta-commentary about the topic in real-time. The presenter's references get a couple of links, articles, and books from the chat in seconds. Most conferences are recorded, and slides are made available after the talk, no more cryptic notes.

After the talk, some of the speakers hang around in the chat and answer any questions. For me, this is huge! I tend to get very nervous when I talk to people I admire for years. The worst happened some years ago was when I spoke to the CEO of an electronic toy company and noticed I was sweating, getting light-headed and blurry eyesight. Maybe I was starstruck, or perhaps my drink had pineapple juice, and I was getting a mild allergic reaction—a little column a, a little column b.