A warm welcome to you new readers who are getting this for the first time. Thank you for letting me be a small part of your week. As a reminder, Tippets is where I share my thoughts on topics I find interesting, usually centered around technology and psychology, as well as an assortment of tidbits and snippets (aka. tippets!) from to mix it up!
This past weekend I found myself in a situation I hadn’t experienced in years: in a room full of people I didn’t know.
This unsettling moment took place in the dry heat of Scottsdale, AZ, where I was attending a conference hosted by an investor in my venture firm. As I arrived at the first of many scheduled activities that would take place over the multi-day event, I looked out at the group patiently milling about outside the Starbucks that was serving as the meeting point. A diverse group of about thirty people aged 25 – 65 stood before me, dressed in athletic gear, ready for a morning hike on the Quartz Ridge Trail. As far as I could tell, there was one thing I had in common with everyone in the group: I didn’t know a single person.
Damn…how do we do this again?
I am a naturally extroverted human being. I feed off the energy of others. I thoroughly enjoy meeting new people and building new bridges. So, it was strange to feel a sense of apprehension in a social setting – what used to be my comfort zone. But, upon further reflection, it makes sense why.
Like most people, I have spent the better part of the last two years almost exclusively with a close group of family and friends. People I have known for years, with a deep understanding of their quirks, personalities, and histories. And while my job as a VC is very much about meeting new people, most conversations with new individuals have mainly been in small groups and have, over the last twenty-four months, predominantly been over Zoom. In the early days of the pandemic, it was a steep learning curve to grow accustomed to video conferencing etiquette and engagement (“No, you go ahead”, “Can you hear me?”). But I am now totally comfortable in that setting. Unfortunately, my IRL interaction skills, with physical energies colliding in the real world, taking cues from body language and facial expressions, are understandably blunt.
Half of me was excited to walk up and engage with this group of strangers, a significant milestone on the path back to normalcy. The other half? Exhausted at the idea of meeting this many new people.
It’s like when you get back in the gym after taking one too many weeks months off. Ideally, you’d ease back into the swing of things with a casual mile or two on the treadmill at a reasonable speed, followed by some light stretching. After all, the extra ten pounds hanging off your gut, courtesy of eating your toddler’s cold quesadillas off the floor over the last eight weeks, have taken their toll. But instead of a slow re-introduction to the gym, the trainer you’ve hired launches you straight into wind sprints followed by a heavy push/pull sequence. You end up hands on knees wondering how it’s only been 14 minutes since you started, when before you used to relish this type of thing!
It takes real effort to build a meaningful connection in a short amount of time. The sensory overload from face-to-face interactions, especially not having done them in a long time, is very real. Engaging in small talk with a stranger, establishing common ground, and finding mutual interests are all muscles that require training. And, as described in a recent WSJ article appropriately titled, “There’s Still a Limit to How Much In-Person Socializing Many Can Handle,” at this point, these muscles are way out of shape.
As one friend of mine put it, “During COVID, you found your inner introvert.”
Luckily for me, most people in the broader group felt the same way. After a few minutes
