You know exactly three people here and one of them is already deep in conversation. There's a cash bar, because there's always a cash bar, and it is about to become the single worst decision available to you.
Because you're not just talking. You're running a continuous background process — where do I put my hands, is this going on too long, is he looking for someone better to talk to, what was her name, what was her name — and that process is expensive. Hyper-vigilance burns real cognitive fuel, which is why you can leave a two-hour event feeling like you did a day's work.
And the cash bar? The first drink genuinely helps. So does the second, a bit. Somewhere in the third, the thing that was loosening you up starts eroding the exact faculties you came here to use — the name recall, the judgement about what's appropriate, the ability to stop talking. You've traded sharpness for ease, and at a professional event that's a bad trade at any price.
One shot before you go and write your own name on a sticker:
The first run is small. Reserved spots ship first.
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Other moments: First Date Nerves · High-Stakes Interviews