I’m an Introvert; Work is an Extrovert
Working in design asks that I always “network”, but as an introvert that’s a big ask and it’s always worth it.
Getting on stage and speaking into a dark slate of anonymous faces I can do. My gaze shifts from the corner of the theater to the next and wave my hands like I’m handing out sandwiches or flagging down rescue — just theatrics. Public speaking is fine because as long as I don’t think about it, it’s like I’m talking to myself. I can’t even make out how the audience is reacting except that none of my jokes land. That’s ok. The topic was serious anyway.
The applause signals the start of the dread. The part that I took propranolol for an hour before so my hands don’t shake. I love interacting with people, but the next hour is intense. I’m happy to hear feedback, but unlike Facebook, Twitter, or any online forum, I can’t close a browser window. Unlike a critique at work, there’s no designated end time.
I want to hug some of the people who come up to me. They’re telling me personal stories and thanking me for touching on issues that have deep impact on their lives. Visibility is so important to feeling like you’re not alone or that you’re simply imagining your struggles.
“Can I hug you,” I ask feeling like this is it — this is community.
It feels good, but each interaction takes it’s toll. Person by person, I can feel the pressure increasing inside my skull, and the tics of my hand trying to break through the beta-blocker my psychiatrist prescribed. “Thank you for your support,” I smile out as I bounce on my feet trying to mitigate the shakes and zaps.
Isn’t that a thing about design and tech? I feel like everyone I work with is a hard introvert. The best designers and developers I know seem happiest when you leave them alone to their fussy and agonizingly detailed work — pixel by pixel, line by line. “If my hood is up, don’t talk to me,” one coworker told me through demeanor. Headphones of a professional recording studio, a slouch that should break your back, and a meditative relationship with their monitor. This is their happy place, and it’s downright romantic.
We’d all be happily separated except for one thing: you can’t do creative work alone. Every pixel laid out and every line of code typed is a conversation with the next person on your team. Every piece of work released to the public is an interaction with the industry at large and handoff to your user. What’s the next best thing you can do?
You can learn about what’s working for another product by talking to their creatives. You can go to a conference and listen to success stories on stage. You can talk with strangers over drinks trying to soothe your natural tendency to avoid large social gatherings. People who code or design without any “networking” easily end up outdated. Their work, so antiquated you can precisely figure out when they gave up, is relegated to the work that is more repeat than craft.
The truth is, and it’s often misunderstood, is that introversion doesn’t mean I don’t like people but that interacting with people demands an energy and attention that I simply lose faster than an extrovert. It doesn’t mean I’m awkward or incompetent when talking to a stranger. It just means talking or anything else exhausts me with a physical expression similar to horrible insomnia.
The crowd is outside eating cheese and crudités. These sort of events never have the kind of food that can keep me going. I retreat to the soundbooth and eat a bologna sandwich and yogurt. I drink water; no booze. I’m trying to keep my protein up with less salt than only eating cheese.
I’m out of nicotine gum and halfway through my mint gum. Chewing gum always helps me self-soothe. I miss smoking. I know it’ll kill me, but I do miss it. It’s a socially accepted reason to leave a crowd for 5–10 minutes. It’s a perfect method for any introvert or neurodivergent crowd-avoider to duck out. “You mind if I step outside to chew gum,” just doesn’t quite click the same way.
An hour after the talk, I’m finally able to say goodbye to all the organizers. It really was a great event. I enjoyed the other speakers, and the feedback I got from people was affirming in a way that brings meaning and negates all the stress and physical tolls. You know, I want to get something done in this world. I want to be part of a community that sees what we’re all capable of and works with our individual needs and limits.
I hug one more person. They tell me that they’ve seen me in a public Slack and they’ve always liked what I’ve said in there, but the talk I gave was just “wow”. They talk about their personal stories and I identify with them so much that I’m trying not to cry. There’s a lot of joy in finding community that can’t be done without being social. This is what we’ve worked for as we all combat our proclivity for naturally introverted activities like anything but going out on a Friday night; we found each other.
Then I go home and sleep for 12 hours.
