“What do you do?” At social events, this question often comes right after we exchange names.
For some people, it’s a natural conversation starter. Work takes up a significant part of our lives. Asking about it can help us find common ground and perhaps an opportunity to collaborate.
For others, the question brings a slight tension: Are you getting to know me, or assessing my income, status, and whether I’m worth more of your time?
Why the same question feels so different
How can the same question feel so different?
I think part of the answer is that we walk into the same room with different expectations.
Some people want to make friends. Some are looking for clients or potential collaborators. Others simply want to get out of the house and have a conversation.
All of these are understandable reasons to be there. But when I’m hoping for a relaxed connection and Jack is looking for a business opportunity, we might experience the same conversation very differently.
Jack might feel he is networking efficiently. I might feel I’m being screened.
It makes me wonder: When does having a clear purpose in a conversation feel honest and when does it leave someone feeling judged?
If Joe is building something or starting a business, being asked what you do might feel welcome. Here’s a chance to talk about his project, why it matters to him, and what he is trying to figure out.
But he might also struggle to answer.
Perhaps what he is building doesn’t generate income yet. Perhaps one job pays the bills while something else holds his attention and ambition. Or perhaps he is stepped away from a familiar role and is still working out what comes next.
“What pays my bills,” “what I’m working on,” and “who I want to become” can have three different answers.
A job title doesn’t always have room for all of that.
It's fine to have a goal
Of course, at an event explicitly designed for business networking, looking for clients or collaborators makes sense. Time is limited. We can’t have a deep conversation with everyone.
I don’t think we need to apologise for having a goal.
But there’s a moment I want to pay closer attention to: When I realise someone has no obvious connection to my goal, what happens to my attitude?
Do I still listen to the end of their sentence? Do my responses become distracted? Do my eyes start scanning the room?
Can I end the conversation honestly and politely, while still making the other person feel respected?
We can choose to spend more time with people who might be a good fit for collaboration. Someone’s worth can remain independent of that choice.
What am I really asking?
So I’m curious about the intention I bring when I ask, “What do you do?”
Am I trying to understand their everyday life? Find something we share? Explore a potential collaboration? Or have I become used to letting someone’s profession determine how I treat them?
Several of these motives might be present at once. Being honest about them may be more useful than finding the perfect opening question.
Something small to try this week
This week, I want to try something small: after asking someone what they do, leave a little more room for the story behind their answer.
“How did you get into that?” might be a place to start.
And leave room for “Actually, I’m still figuring it out,” too.
What about you?
When someone asks what you do, do you usually feel interest or judgement? What difference does the setting, their tone, or their next question make?
I would love to hear your thoughts.
Joanna