How to network wrong: An introverted researcher's handbook

Fanie van Rooyen
15 hours ago
5 min read

Humorous illustration of a drunk scientist shouting gibberish while holding a glass of wine next to a poster, as horrified bystanders look on in embarrassment.

Networking. The word alone is enough to send a shiver down the spine of any self-respecting introvert. It conjures images of sweaty handshakes, awkward silences, and the crushing pressure to "sell yourself" in front of your scientific poster while holding a lukewarm glass of bulk-bought Chardonnay.

But why fight the fear? If you’re going to be awkward, you might as well be the most awkward person in the room. Why aim for "competent professional" when you can aim for "mysterious cryptid"? Make a night of it!

Here is your step-by-step guide to absolutely ruining your networking potential and scaring off any potential funders or collaborators (perhaps even a journalist!). Introverts can have fun too, right? And for those who actually want to advance their career, just do the reverse (lame).

Tip #1: The "human shield" maneuver

When presenting your poster, your goal is to protect your research from prying eyes. Stand directly in front of your board, arms crossed, looking at your phone, avoiding eye contact with any person passing by at all costs. If someone tries to read your title, shift your weight to block their view. Make them work for it. If they persist, hiss slightly. Or growl, whichever you prefer.

This will send a clear signal: "I am guarding ancient secrets, and you are not worthy." It ensures no one talks to you, saving you from the horror of human interaction.

Cartoon of a defensive scientist standing directly in front of his research poster with arms crossed and an angry expression, physically blocking the view.

🔁 The (boring) flip side (actual good advice): Don't block the view, invite them in. Standing directly in front of your poster creates a physical barrier. Instead, take a step back and stand to the side. Face the aisle, not your board. This turns your body language from ‘’guard dog” to "welcome committee," making it infinitely easier for people to stop and chat without feeling like they’re intruding.

Tip #2: Cue the ‘lab rat’ formation

Conferences are big and scary. The solution? Find the three people from your own lab - the ones you see every single day - and form an impenetrable circle of awkward mutterings. Stand shoulder-to-shoulder. Talk exclusively about inside jokes and lab politics. If a stranger approaches the circle, stop talking and stare at them until they leave.

This will recreate the social dynamic of a high school cafeteria. This guarantees you'll meet exactly zero new people, rendering the $800 conference registration fee your university shelled out completely useless.

High-angle illustration of a group of six people standing in a tight, impenetrable circle, excluding a lone researcher who stands outside looking sad.

🔁 The flip side: Divide and conquer. It’s comfortable to stick with your tribe, but you didn’t fly halfway across the world to talk to Dave from down the hall. Challenge yourself (and your lab mates) to split up for at least 30 minutes. If walking up to a stranger feels impossible, try the "Do unto others" rule: Find another lonely researcher standing by their poster and ask, "So, what are you working on?" They will be so relieved that you broke the silence that the conversation will flow naturally.

Tip #3: The ‘dull audiobook’ technique

You’ve hooked a victim - I mean, a visitor. Now, initiate the monologue. Do not make eye contact. Turn toward your poster and begin reading the Introduction, word-for-word, in a monotone drone. Channel Alan Rickman. Do not stop for breath. Do not check if they are still there. If they try to ask a question, raise your voice slightly and keep reading (faster).

Your poor, hapless visitor will feel time start to warp. Their soul will vacate their body. You will become a living, breathing cure for insomnia. Job well done.

A scientist reads his poster text word-for-word with his back to the audience, while the listener looks so bored that a ghost is seen leaving her body.

🔁 The flip side: Don't read; tell a story. Your poster is a visual aid, not a script. When someone asks about your work, give them the "elevator pitch": a 30-second summary of what you did and why it matters. Point to your eye-catching visuals (graphs, photos, diagrams) to guide the conversation. Treat it like a chat over coffee, not a thesis defence. Remember, conversations go both ways. It's not just about showcasing your research; it's also an opportunity to take genuine interest in what the other person does. Ask questions, listen actively, and find common ground.

Tip #4: The ‘open bar’ challenge

Free alcohol is the only reason we go to conferences, right? To survive the crushing anxiety of the networking hour, consume three glasses of the complimentary house wine in roughly six minutes. Beer on tap? Score! Switch to a pint or three and suddenly you're everyone's best mate.

Fast forward 20 minutes: You are now laughing too loudly at a joke nobody told, you’ve just spilled wine on a potential employer’s shoes, and you are aggressively explaining why Reviewer #2 is a "total fraud" to the department chair. If you do it right, you won’t remember any awkwardness at all.

A chaotic scene at a conference mixer where a drunk scientist laughs loudly and flails his leg, spilling red wine while other attendees look shocked and annoyed.

🔁 The flip side: Hydrate and pace yourself. "Liquid courage" has a nasty habit of turning into "liquid regret." Networking requires active listening and sharp focus. By all means, hold a drink to give your hands something to do, but maybe alternate with water. You want to be remembered for your brilliant insights, not for the stain on the carpet.

Tip #5: The phantom exit

The conversation is winding down. The silence is stretching to a solid four seconds. Panic sets in. Instead of saying goodbye, simply…walk away. Mid-sentence. Make a show of it (perhaps turn your body first, and then your head). Silly walks are welcome. Vanish into the crowd like a ghost in the night.

It leaves the other person questioning reality. Did that just happen? Did you even exist? Was this a hallucination? It is the ultimate power move for the chaotic academic. Wizard move.

A scientist in a hoodie fades into transparency like a ghost in the middle of a crowded networking event, illustrating an awkward exit.

🔁 The flip side: Master the graceful exit. Ending a conversation is often harder than starting one. Have a few ‘exit lines’ ready in your mental pocket:

"I won’t keep you, I know there are lots of posters to see!"
"It was great chatting with you, do you have a card?"
"I’m going to grab a coffee, but I’d love to follow up on this later."

Simple, polite, and awkwardness-free.

Ok, ok, let’s be real for a minute…you got this!

Networking doesn’t have to be a perspiration-soaked horror story. Believe me, I know it can be. I have personally smiled and charmed my way through an intimidating conference crowd and disappeared out the back door long before the event was over (perhaps more than once). While it’s fun to joke about our social stumbles, the truth is that most researchers are just as anxious as you are. They want you to talk to them. They want to hear about your science. It distracts them from their own internal terror.

So, uncross those arms, step away from the Merlot, and go say hi. The worst that can happen is you end up in a blog post like this one. And we didn’t even name names, so where’s the harm?

Want to make sure your poster is the one everyone wants to talk to? Check out our Scientific Poster Design Course and become the networking star we know you are.