The Beltway's Secret Network

Networking is one of those rare words that sounds sinister no matter which way I look at it. It refers to the tedious process of linking uncooperative computers together. Worse, it describes the superficial routine of introducing yourself to others long enough to ask for their business cards. Shallow and a bit awkward? Surebut wildly popular nonetheless. As Ive quickly learned, networking is Capitol Hills Paris Hilton.

By day, I have the profoundly unique summer job of congressional internsorting mail, writing letters, and entering databut by night, I am a student learning the tricks of the trade. A few weeks ago, the prospect of free food lured me to a quasi-workshop event targeted towards Asian Americans being held in one of the House office buildings. The group that organizes these meetings aims to teach us leadership skills, so I was less than surprised to see that the first session would focus on the basics: networking.

I had already been introduced to the networking mania on my first day in DC. At an orientation meeting, the three congressional and advocacy group staffers who spoke stressed the importance of greeting as many peoplestaff as well as internsas possible during the summer. Who knows, the staffers said, these contacts might be the key to a job in DC. Youll have a stack of business cards this high, one of them said, putting a considerable gap between her thumb and index finger.

The workshop provided us with more comprehensive tips about how to be competitive in the hottest card-collecting craze since Magic: The Gathering. We only have 15 seconds to make an impression, the guest speakers said, so we should just get our names out there and snatch up business cards. The guest speakers then told us to try our hand at networking.

I twisted around in my chair and started an awkward conversation with the intern sitting behind me. I asked him his name, his university, his hometown; but as he told me, I was already forgetting. I then greeted one of the guest speakers, a lobbyist on the Hill. People always ask where you are from, he advised, and then where you are working. Finally, ask for the card, he said. I did, and he said he didnt bring any. I walked away, annoyed.

If you had asked me then, I would have blasted the entire process for being pretty cynical. Sure, the staffer will ask you where you are from, but the tte--tte is more of a formality that occurs because it would be too rude to only go around asking for business cards. So the whole networking part acts as a faade of interest and interaction, with dialogue that is cursory and forgettable.

My distaste for the smarminess of networking remains, but after nearly a month of work on the Hill, I recognize its undeniable role. Busy staffers might only have time for a brief conversation, and they certainly cannot be expected to remember every intern they meet. A quick exchange of business cards cracks open the door, inviting interns to stay in touch. Interns can e-mail and arrange a follow-up lunch, for instance, to develop a more substantive relationship. You have to wade into the shallow end before you can get to the depth. The speakers like to emphasis that this is the way of life in the hectic, always moving Capitol. People network, even if they groan at the mention of that ugly word.

So these days, when I get the chance to share a few words with a lobbyist or businessman or congressional staffer, I grin stiffly and tell them that Im from California, but that I go to school at Harvard. And, after warning them that I might get in touch with them for lunch sometime, I ask for a business card.

Im gathering together quite the deck.

David Zhou 07, a Government concentrator in Adams House, is a news editor of The Harvard Crimson. While writing constituents, he dreams of inventing a way to play Magic The Gathering, or at the very least poker, with business cards.