Yes, professionalism. And, authenticity.
How to balance the pressure of networking with the value in genuine relationships.
Sometimes successful adults scare me.
Okay, maybe scared isn’t the right word… I’m intimidated by them. They often appear flawless, with every hair in place and their suits and skirts perfectly ironed. Each phrase they utter is curated and their resumes look like what you find when you Google “professional resume example.” Networking through this lens is a beast, and it’s one I’d rather not conquer. But, I’m realizing it’s the wrong lens through which to view professional networking.
Recently, I found myself surrounded by some of these intimidating people in a 10th floor office suite with windows looking out over familiar D.C. landmarks: the Washington monument, the United States Capitol building, and the Newseum. As a farm girl from small-town Midwestern culture, with education at a community college and small public university filling the “academics” portion of my resume, I didn’t feel like I was qualified to be there. Successful people grow up in big towns, have sophisticated culture, and go to fancy schools. Right?
Do you ever feel like you’re not polished enough, successful enough, or rich enough to have a conversation with those intimidating adults? Do you feel like you can’t share that you worked on a small farm growing up, that you do most of your shopping second-hand, or that you didn’t (or don’t even want to) go to an elite university? Me, too. It can feel like professionalism is about status, when perhaps it’s actually more about people.
[Part of why this is such an internal struggle for me is that I’m personally very happy with my college choices and deeply grateful for my background--it’s only when I start comparing my choices to what I think other people think is cool or popular that I start to backpedal on my own decisions. Take it from an expert in comparison: just don’t do it.]
In that Washington, D.C. office building, I found myself conversing with Victoria and Rachel. As we dove into topics like choosing a career, networking, and the pros and cons of college sorority life, I started to realize these women were examples of both professionalism and authenticity. Yes, they were put-together and confident in their abilities. And, yes, they were open about some of their insecurities.
In our attempts to break away from an overly stiff professional environment, we can overcorrect and forget that some standards are standards for a reason. There are some topics of conversation that don’t serve a purpose in a professional environment. How we dress and how we conduct ourselves serves a purpose, and it can either be a distraction from the good work that we do or it can signal to others that we take our jobs (and ourselves) seriously. The moment we lose touch with the purpose of professionalism, in either direction, is the moment we reduce our positive influence on the people around us.
As soon as we got on the subject of networking, Rachel shared something that stuck with me. “I always felt like I was a bother when I tried to network just to network, so I started treating networking events like regular conversations with other humans.” It seemed so obvious when she said it, but I’d forgotten that networking in professional environments is an opportunity to make others feel valued, just like any other interaction I have with people. Rachel and Victoria lived that out in our networking reception. Yes, we exchanged business cards, but the lasting impact from that afternoon was how they made me feel like I was valued for who I was. They acted like real humans and that empowered me to do the same.
The more professionals I talk to, the more I realize that most people don’t care what school you went to, where you buy your clothes from, or where you grew up. The more important thing is how you use what you learned in school, how you carry yourself in conversation, and how you seek to understand people who grew up in different places than you did.
This applies anywhere, but since I’m immersed in agriculture, let me share this: let’s stop apologizing for our backgrounds. It hurts my heart to hear introductions where my friends who didn’t grow up on a farm justify why they love agriculture and deserve a seat at the table, too. Of course we should welcome people from outside the silo of production agriculture into our industry; the diversity of thought is how agriculture as a whole will stay relevant and innovative. It also hurts my heart when my friends who did grow up on a farm are embarrassed to share that they’re proud of that legacy. Even within agriculture, I used to be (and sometimes, I still am) afraid to share that my family grew organic crops, since the “mainstream” narrative can often be antagonistic towards non-conventional farmers (again, more complexity here—check out this post to read more of my thoughts). Yet, I have hope. People like Victoria and Rachel and their colleagues at the American Farm Bureau Federation are illustrating the fact that agriculture isn’t homogenous and its people don’t have to be, either.
How are we living this out in our day-to-day lives, agricultural or not? It’s not necessarily breaking the mold of overly-polished professionalism by telling our entire life story to everyone we meet, nor is it only sharing our highlight reel on Instagram. Perhaps it’s at the intersection of professionalism and authenticity, in a spot that is simply effectiveness. Does sharing a more vulnerable aspect of your background help build a sense of shared understanding with the person you’re speaking with? Is your poise going to increase your credibility when you give a speech to an audience of industry experts and open the door for deeper conversations after you leave the stage? As my friend Caleb from South Dakota shared during a workshop on connections, “our conversations should always be purposeful.” Whether that purpose is to move the needle farther towards vulnerability or towards polish, it’s my sincere hope that we treat every interaction with its due gravity: an opportunity to serve the people around us.
What does authentic professionalism look like to you? Share your thoughts in the comments or on social media by tagging @miriamrosah and @nffaevp and using the hashtags #EmbracingComplexity and #FFA21.
Side note: I’m not kidding about the second-hand fashion finds. Hit me up for recommendations.