My World and the Other One

I went to an awards ceremony the other day. I hate those things. I loathe networking. I simply don't feel comfortable and rarely do my true colours ever come out naturally. I'm not a "hiya doin'?" kinda guy. I much prefer to attend gatherings with someone who already knows the circuit and the people in them.

This one was not so bad in the sense that it was a mini-banquet for writers. Networking in the financial services is far worse. So many one-dimensional people to deal with. Middle-management at the banks is one gigantic wasteland of minds.

What I don't get at any of these "Happy hour" functions is the need for bloody name tags. Those cheesey stickers that are meant to identify and label you. "Oh, hi. Here's your name tag. You know, so people know who you are."

Really? By knowing my name they know who I am? Gosh, if there is such a person send them over because I could use some insights. An ice breaker you say? Gee, I thought we were all adults and would be able to do so without the aid of a name tag. Name tags annoy me. It's fine for the sixth grade but professionals?

The only person's name tag I bothered to read was the idiot who left three tooth picks on my table. Just what I want to see at such a function; remnants of beef mango and vegetarian sushi. "Hi, Susan. Yeah, nice to meet you. You write for Maclean's good for you. Um, do you mind showing a little more class next time? In fact, ask your editor for a copy on how to use a trash can."

Maybe I'm just bitter. Some call it being anti-social which in turn now is interpreted to mean autistic. Whatever it is I'm in a bind. The things I want to do and accomplish entail my attending the functions. How does one navigate around this?

I'm far more comfortable one on one. In fact, I thrive in such a circumstance. For years I struggled in school and no one could ever figure out why. If I was a bumper sticker it would read "he's intelligent, if only he could focus more...." They call it ADHD now. Not that I have been diagnosed with it but I have my suspicions.

Do you want to know when I found out I could write? In prep school - when I was in my 20s and there were five people per class. It calmed me down a little. Well, that plus the fact that my parents were dishing out a shit load of cash to straighten me out. So there was a bit of a "I owe" them that much guilt on my part.

Despite this, I was all over the map and could not figure out what I wanted to do with myself. Sure, since I was in high school I was told to become a writer. Suggestion after suggestion, advice after advice went over my head. Besides, I didn't want to be a writer. After all, what was I going to write about? It was one thing to have ideas but what would make me better than the next guy or gal? Maybe I lacked confidence. Maybe I pretended and deferred any decisions by partying. Where was I going to get a job? Journalism did not interest me as I did not have the character to be a reporter - plus I've met local journalists and they did not fill me with enough enticement to join their ranks. It's a scummy world. I always saw myself more as an entrepreneur.

So I wandered and ended up in financial services. Sure, I learnt about stocks and how to read economic reports but something was lacking. The world was way too grey and putting up with dead weight bosses was too much for me to accept. I discovered I could and did not want to play the corporate game.

Now all I hear are the voices of past History and English professors, journalists and professional writers who told me I needed to build a career in writing. I took the chance. One problem: to build a career from the outside is damn near impossible. No matter how good you may be they don't know that and quite frankly it's not easy to show this.

This is where luck now needs to play a role. I got lucky with one editor who spotted me. Now I need to keep it going but for how much longer? If I was earning a living and had to time to master my craft I'd offer quite a bit but it's a catch-22 thing.

Now I'm trying to combine my experiences, talent and entrepreneurial spirit into writing. Oh well, if that doesn't work there's always porn.

Tangents, tangents. So anyway, I hate networking. The end.