You're Doing Conferences Wrong

I love conferences. I have always loved conferences, from my very first conference in 1999 in Denver as a wee grad student with stars in my eyes. But I would say that: I’m an extrovert after all and I love nothing more than flitting about at parties making small talk.

But for others, conferences are a source of anxiety and despair. They invite all kinds of upwards social comparisons—there is always someone better than you doing more interesting research no matter how well established or how cool your research is—that leave one deflated. And then there are all those people to talk to!

Because conference season is here, I thought I’d reprint (with light edits) my essay on what conferences are really for (hint: it it not to learn about the latest research) and how to do it well even if small talk is not really your thing.

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Conference season is here, and I can feel the electric buzz of anticipation in academia's virtual hallways.

I’m heading to Chicago for the annual meeting of the Society for Personality and Social Psychology (SPSP), where I won’t be presenting anything but there to soak in the atmosphere of the world’s largest gathering of social and personality psychologists. If you’re there, come say hi!

Whether it’s SPSP, APS, CNS, SAS, or any other acronym-filled gathering, conferences can be overwhelming. For junior researchers, especially, the experience of seeing your academic heroes stroll by—knowing you should strike up a conversation but feeling too anxious to—is all too familiar. You wonder: Why would she even want to talk to me?

That anxious knot in your stomach? It’s likely tricking you into overestimating how awkward those interactions will be. Research by Nick Epley and Juliana Schroeder shows we chronically underestimate how much others enjoy talking to us; and how much we’ll enjoy those conversations, too. Small talk may have a bad reputation, but it’s usually a lot less painful (and a lot more enjoyable) than we expect, even if you don’t think you’re a pro at it.

Yet, despite this, we cling to our phones like they’re shields, pretending to check emails while secretly praying that the person who just made eye contact doesn’t actually come over. We convince ourselves that everyone is too busy, too important, or too uninterested to talk to us. But, you’re also silently hoping someone else will break the ice so you can stop pretending to be absorbed in the same email you’ve skimmed three times already.

And here’s the twist: those small, seemingly inconsequential interactions? They’re the main reason you’re at the conference. So, let’s clear up a major misconception: the goal of a conference isn’t to attend every talk and absorb every bit of information. It’s about connecting with ideas, with potential collaborators, and yes, with those strangers you’re too nervous to approach.

If you want pure information, read the papers or let an AI summarize them for you. Conferences are about people—meeting them, talking to them, and, most importantly, forming connections that go beyond academic citations. This is why online conferences, for all their accessibility, were a bust. They missed the whole point: building relationships.

If your idea of a conference is to fly in, give your talk, and fly out, you're doing it wrong. You’re like a child wondering into the middle of a movie.

Let me tell you a story about why these connections matter. A few years ago, I hired a postdoc named Blair Saunders, now a professor at the University of Dundee. Blair’s application stood out not just because of his brilliance but because I had already met him. Months earlier, at a pub event after a conference talk in New Orleans, Blair saw me wrestling with a neon-colored Hurricane (a truly deadly concoction) and mustered the courage to chat. We discovered shared research interests, and when his CV crossed my desk later, I already knew he was thoughtful and engaging. That conversation over a drink made him more than just another name in a stack of applications.

Here's something they don't tell you enough of in grad school: the most successful academics aren't just brilliant researchers; they're also skilled networkers. I know, I know: the word "networking" probably makes you cringe. It sounds calculated, maybe even a bit sleazy. But these personal connections matter more than you think. They lead to collaborations, job opportunities, chapter invitations, and symposium spots. But more importantly, they make this whole academic endeavor more enjoyable.

OK, so how does one network?

First, ditch your university crew. I know it feels safe traveling in packs, but those gaggles of grad students from the same labs or departments? No one's approaching that fortress of familiarity. Instead, work in pairs at most. One conference buddy is ideal; you've got backup but you're still approachable.

Next, be ready for the inevitable “What do you study?” question. Have a concise three-sentence version for casual chats and a longer version for when someone is genuinely interested. And don’t forget to ask real questions yourself; not setups to pivot back to your own work, but genuine, thoughtful inquiries. If you’re nervous about sounding dumb, don’t be. Most speakers love questions, even simple ones. If you are anxious still, have a go-to question you can ask multiple people (mine used to be about individual differences that they believed could moderate their effect of interest).

Be strategic. Skim the program ahead of time and prioritize talks and posters that genuinely interest you. Then, make a point to chat with presenters afterward, especially grad students, who are often thrilled to have someone engage with their work.

Another way to be strategic is to email people in advance. Maybe you noticed that a few professors you admire are going to attend. Why not send them a brief email expressing how much you admire them and their work and then ask if they could meet for 15 minutes over coffee. Several students have reached out to me in the past, and I usually say yes to a brief meeting because I’m human and while I want to help them, I really like it when people like me and my work! Yes, flattery works.

Here's something else: hang out with your advisor strategically. It’s a long story, but I did not have a social psychology advisor during grad school (my advisor was a cognitive psychologist). So, when I went to conferences, I had no one to open social doors for me. But advisors can and should do this. So, ask your advisors to introduce you to people they know—that's literally part of their job. And when they do, don't just stand there nodding. Join the conversation. And follow up with these people later.

And don’t skip the social events. Yes, the poster sessions and talks matter, but the real networking happens over drinks and food. This is where job leads, collaborations, and friendships are born.

Here’s a hack most people overlook: volunteer for everything. Seriously, everything. Hand out name badges. Join student committees. Help review poster submissions. These seemingly mundane tasks are networking gold mines. You’ll get face time with other academics, and the connections you make can pay off years later.

One last bit of advice: Try acting extroverted. Yes, I know that sounds terrifying, but research shows it can make you happier and more likable. When you engage enthusiastically with others, when you smile and act assertively, they tend to mirror that energy back, creating a positive feedback loop that makes everyone feel good. It's like a social chain reaction that benefits both sides.

So, if you see me at your next conference, come say hi. I’m the short, bearded, bald guy wearing a Big Lebowski t-shirt under a blazer. And who knows? That awkward small talk might just be the start of something big.