Before the Introduction

Someone early in her events career asked me for help this year, and the request underneath the request was a familiar one: can you open a door?

I could. I know people. But I've learned — partly from watching well-meaning introductions go nowhere — that opening the door is rarely the most useful first move. An introduction is a spend. It spends your credibility with the person receiving it, and it spends the candidate's one clean first impression. Made too early, it costs both and returns nothing.

So we started somewhere less glamorous: the resume, the story, the way she talked about her experience. My job in those conversations wasn't encouragement — she didn't lack confidence, and generic encouragement is cheap anyway. It was the honest read. Here's what a hiring manager in this industry sees in thirty seconds. Here's the experience you're underselling because it doesn't feel impressive to you yet. Here's the line that raises a question you don't want raised.

That kind of feedback only works under two conditions. It has to be specific — "make it stronger" helps no one — and it has to be unmistakably on the person's side. Direct and kind aren't opposites. In mentoring, direct is usually what kind looks like when it's doing real work.

The door still matters. But a door opened for someone who's ready is a favor. A door opened for someone who isn't is a lesson — usually an expensive one, usually theirs.

If you're senior in your field and someone asks for help: the introduction is the second gift. The honest read is the first.