The grand hall of the Industry Summit is buzzing—neatly dressed executives, overly enthusiastic panel discussions, and an endless supply of coffee that tastes like burnt ambition.
I weave through the crowd, spotting familiar faces—old colleagues, ex-bosses, forgotten LinkedIn connections, and my current team members—all in the same space, pretending to be fascinated by keynote speakers.
And, of course, The Cynic Upstairs walks beside me, sipping an imaginary overpriced cocktail.
Cynic Upstairs: “Ah, the Industry Summit—the place where people pretend they’re doing better than they actually are and where every handshake is a subtle ‘who’s more successful’ contest.”
I sigh. “Be nice. These are my people.”
Cynic Upstairs: “Yes. And some of them probably don’t even remember your name.”
Phase 1: The Awkward Small Talk with Ex-Colleagues
I spot Mr. Ex-colleague, an ex-colleague I once shared a dozen late-night office dinners with.
Me: “Hey, Ex-colleague! Long time! How’s it going?”
Mr. Ex-Colleague (flashing a LinkedIn-certified smile): “Oh, fantastic! Leading a new vertical now! Expansion mode. Busy, busy, you know?”
I nod.
The Cynic Upstairs leans in.
Cynic Upstairs: “Translation: He wants you to know he’s important now. This is a flex disguised as an update.”
I try to match his energy.
Me: “That’s great, man! I’m handling some major projects myself these days.”
Cynic Upstairs: “Smooth. You’ve given no details but implied you are also ‘big’ now. This is industry summit communication at its finest.”
We exchange cards, promise to “catch up soon” (which neither of us will ever do), and move on.
Phase 2: The Ex-Team Members Who Are Doing ‘Something Exciting’
I bump into Ms. Junior, a once-junior team member.
Me: “Ms. Junior! How’s everything? Where are you now?”
Ms. Junior(grinning): “Oh, I left my job last year! Started my own thing—consulting, you know? Building something exciting!”
The Cynic Upstairs raises an eyebrow.
Cynic Upstairs: “Translation: She’s freelancing but doesn’t want to call it freelancing.”
Me: “That’s amazing! Must be so liberating!”
Ms. Junior: “Yeah, yeah! Flexible hours, total freedom!”
The Cynic Upstairs smirks.
Cynic Upstairs: “And no guaranteed income. But sure, let’s celebrate ‘freedom.’”
Phase 3: The Ex-Boss Who Still Sees You as Junior
From the corner of my eye, I spot my old boss, Mr. Ex-Boss.
He sees me. Nods approvingly.
Me: “Hello, sir! It’s been a while!”
Ex-boss: “Ah, yes! I see you’re still in the same field. Good, good! Learning is important.”
I resist the urge to point out that I’ve been in leadership roles for years.
The Cynic Upstairs shakes his head.
Cynic Upstairs: “No matter what you achieve, some people will always see you as ‘the kid who needed handholding back in late nineties.’”
Me: “Yes, sir. Still learning, always.”
Ex-boss (smiling patronizingly): “Good attitude. Keep it up.”
I escape before he gives career advice I don’t need.
Phase 4: Running Into Current Colleagues & Pretending We Don’t Have Ongoing Work Conflicts
I turn a corner and bump into my own colleagues.
We stare at each other, briefly remembering the pending emails, overdue deadlines, and that one never-ending project discussion from last week.
Colleague: “Hey! Fancy seeing you here!”
Me: “Right? Small world!”
The Cynic Upstairs scoffs.
Cynic Upstairs: “Yes. It’s so surprising to see someone from our industry at… an industry event.”
We laugh, pretending we don’t still have ten unresolved issues waiting in our inbox.
Phase 5: The Random LinkedIn Connection Who Remembers You, But You Don’t Remember Them
A stranger approaches with too much enthusiasm.
Stranger: “Hey! You don’t remember me, do you?”
I stare. I do not.
The Cynic Upstairs chuckles.
Cynic Upstairs: “Good luck. This is an unsolvable social puzzle.”
Stranger: “We connected on LinkedIn! You commented on my post once!”
I nod as if that explains everything.
Me: “Oh, yes! Of course! How have you been?”
We make polite, meaningless conversation before they leave, satisfied.
The Cynic Upstairs grins.
Cynic Upstairs: “You still have no idea who they were.”
Me: “Not even slightly.”
Phase 6: The Forced Panel Discussion That No One Asked For
I end up in a panel discussion on ‘Future of AI & Business,’ where five executives say nothing useful for 45 minutes.
Panelist 1: “AI is changing everything.”
Panelist 2: “It’s not AI replacing jobs, it’s people using AI who will replace others!”
Panelist 3: “We need to rethink our approach to AI strategy.”
The Cynic Upstairs groans.
Cynic Upstairs: “That was just corporate poetry. No one actually said anything new.”
Phase 7: The Ultimate Takeaway—Nothing Has Changed
After hours of networking, business card exchanges, and empty conversations, I realize:
- Old colleagues still compete in the ‘Who’s Doing Better’ Olympics.
- Ex-bosses still think you’re a fresher.
- Current colleagues still pretend they’re on vacation.
- Panel discussions are still glorified TED Talks with no action points.
And yet, the event will be considered ‘successful’ because of the number of photos posted on LinkedIn.
I step out, exhausted.
The Cynic Upstairs pats my shoulder.
Cynic Upstairs: “Good news—you survived. Bad news? You’ll be back here next year.”
I sigh.
Me: “And I’ll have the same conversations all over again.”