What the 80’s taught me about networking in the 20’s
Who remembers the eighties? Ah, the eighties, the eighties, a halcyon time when we were largely untroubled by people’s private thoughts or the constant drip-feed of doom-news into our consciences. A time when the absence of choice promoted a kind of wholesome DIY quality to one’s life. In other words: make your own entertainment, everybody, because there are only four TV channels and “The Internet” has not been invented yet.
So, what on earth did we do as we waited to fall, decades later, into the dark recesses of big tech’s mighty social media well?

The answer? Dinner parties.
Possibly a strange concept for anyone born north of the eighties themselves, but for us Baby Boomers, this was our social media … with food.
To set the scene, a couple would invite another couple (or couples, if they had the chairs) around for an evening of … well, talking. Just talking. No phones. No notifications. No one “just popping out to take a call.” And as it was the eighties, it’s likely that we would be treated to a range of exotic fare such as prawn cocktail, chicken Kiev, and maybe a trifle doused in some back-of-the-cupboard sherry that had been opened for Christmas 1979 and never touched again.
The opening of this evening of ribald entertainment was invariably punctuated by the ceremonial handing over of a gift. After all, it’s the height of impoliteness not to bring something to the party, whether that be a bottle of wine, a box of chocolates or flowers (or all three if the cook is on a par with Delia Smith).
The beauty of this simple gift exchange is threefold:
- It’s good manners (“We’ll invite them again”).
- It’s a great ice breaker (“Ooh, Liebfraumilch – our favourite”).
- It avoids public humiliation (“Don’t invite them. I spent all day cooking and they brought NOTHING”).

That small act sets the tone for the entire evening. It signals awareness. Effort. Gratitude. It says, “I understand the social contract, and I’m playing my part”.
Now, let’s spin forward a few decades and substitute dinner party for business networking. Ultimately, it’s the same proposition: going somewhere with the expectation that something good will happen. Only in this case, turning up with wine, chocolates and flowers could be seen as a sign of massively misplaced ingratiation. It is, however, in my experience, important to bring something to the party to grease the cogs of social interaction and, ultimately, leave a positive and lasting impression.
There are countless books on effective business networking, each offering tips on what to say, how to say it, how to stand, how long to maintain eye contact, how to balance a prawn vol-au-vent on a paper plate whilst holding a pipette’s worth of cava in a plastic glass with the structural integrity of tissue paper all while a man bleats on about his twenty years in “document solutions”. (I made that last one up).
What many of these books miss is that networking fails not because people say the wrong thing, but because they bring nothing with them. They arrive empty-handed, hoping to extract value rather than create it. They scan the room like bargain hunters at the John Lewis Christmas sale, asking themselves not who can I help but what can I get?
And, like a well-baked chicken Kiev, people can smell that a mile off.
In my experience, the best gift you can give at a networking event is this simple question:
“How can I help you?”
This simple question has distinct two-way benefits:
- It relaxes your fellow networker and removes their fear of being sold to.
- It makes the conversation less transactional and more human, allowing a quicker, deeper connection.
- It indicates that you are a master connector and a person of influence.
- Invariably, the question will be asked back (not always, but mostly).
Crucially, this question changes the dynamic. You are no longer two people engaging in an elevator pitch-off; you’re collaborators. It also forces you to listen properly, rather than mentally rehearsing your next story-topping anecdote.
Of course, “How can I help?” isn’t magic on its own. You have to mean it. Empty politeness is just as transparent as hard selling. Sometimes the answer will be simple, an introduction, a recommendation or a contact. Sometimes it will be nothing at all, and that’s fine; you’ve set a tone, built trust and enhanced your reputation.
There are plenty of other conversational gifts you can bring – a newly learned fact, an inspirational story, a piece of local business intelligence, or even just genuine encouragement at the right moment. However, in my experience, the gift of intentional generosity expressed through a simple, sincere question trumps a box of After Eights every time.
About Tim Fifield
Tim is a polymath, spreading his time equally across digital marketing, business networking, and theatre as an actor and playwright.

His enduring fascination with people has led him to a 25-year career supporting businesses throughout Sussex via networks that include Gatwick Diamond Business and BNI, where he currently manages the west of the county. Of networking, Tim says, “ for me, meeting new people is like pouring petrol in my tank; rarely do I meet someone who doesn’t, in some way, move the dial, whether that confirms my point of view or presents a fresh perspective.” You can find him at: www.britweb.co.uk
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