Harnidh Kaur@harnidhish
Most networking advice is written by extroverts with no shame.
Which is fine. Love that for them. But it produces the most useless genre of instruction for the rest of us: “Just walk up!” “Just DM!” “Just follow up three times!” Like you’re asking me to borrow a charger, not initiate social contact with a stranger who could very easily make me feel like an insect.
Awkward people don’t hate networking. We hate auditions. We hate the moment where you can feel yourself being evaluated in real time, where you have to perform charm on demand, where your brain starts narrating you from the ceiling like a sports commentator. Extroverts experience that same moment and think, ooh, stage. We experience it and think, court.
I’ve also been cosplaying as an extrovert my whole life, so I can tell you this- it’s not as fun as it looks. It’s exhausting. It makes you feel like shit about yourself, because you’re constantly failing an invisible test you didn’t agree to take. It took me a very long time to realise that wasn’t a “me” problem. It was a performance problem. The world rewards a certain kind of easy social fluency and then acts like it’s an ingrained trait.
So the fix isn’t “be more confident.” The fix is to stop treating networking like a personality test.
Relationships don’t start with “chemistry.” They start with context. Shared room, shared work, shared friend, shared interest, shared problem. Extrovert networking advice assumes you can manufacture context from general vibes. If you’re awkward, you can’t. It’s fine. Build context instead.
“Loved your point about X” is not a compliment, it’s a coordinate. It tells the other person you actually paid attention.
So one line of context: “I’m working on Y / I’m thinking about Z / I’m trying to learn A.” And then a tiny, specific ask: “If you’re open to it, could I steal 10 minutes sometime? Totally okay if not.” That last sentence matters. It’s you lowering the price of saying no. People relax around you when they can say no without it becoming a thing.
Awkward people also make the mistake of trying to “win” the interaction in one go. You try to compress an entire relationship into a five-minute conversation because you’re terrified you’ll never get another chance. Extroverts can improvise their way out of that pressure. You cannot. So don’t play that game.
Instead of “Let’s stay in touch” (which is fake and everyone knows it), do a two-sentence follow-up that creates a reason to exist again. “This reminded me of that thing you said about X, here’s the link. No reply needed.” Or: “I tried the tool you mentioned. It fixed my problem in five minutes. Thank you.”
Most relationships are built by tiny, low-stakes touches that prove you’re a real person and not a hungry ghost.
A lot of “good networkers” aren’t even that charming. They’re just consistent. They are willing to be briefly cringe in service of a life that’s easier later. Meanwhile awkward people are trying to avoid cringe so hard that they inadvertently choose isolation.
Never ask “Can I pick your brain?” Ask for one thing. One question. One perspective. One intro. One resource. People can’t help a cloud. They can help a dot.
Also, stop opening with your biography. All people need is a mental hook. “I do early-stage investing and I’m trying to understand robotics in India.” “I write about work and money for Indian women and I’m looking for stories.” The hook is your direction.
Finally, accept that networking will always feel mildly embarrassing if you’re not naturally socially fluent. That’s just the cost of contact. It’s FINE. Pay it. It won’t bankrupt you.
The point is not to become an extrovert. The point is to build a system where your shyness doesn’t get a veto over your life.
It’s possible. I’ve done it. You can too.
