We’ve all met them. The networking vampire. The time monopoliser. The narrative hog. Whether it’s a local breakfast club, a virtual meet-up, or a well-meaning business brunch, there’s often that one person who seems to drain the room rather than energise it. You know the type: they enter the space low in mood but high in dominance, speak for 85% of the breakout time, and reframe every conversation so it centres on their personal struggles, triumphs, or oddly specific product. We have a few of these people in the groups I attend.
So what drives someone to behave like this? And do they even bother to think how it impacts the group around them?
Some individuals use networking events as an emotional outlet. When someone arrives visibly low-energy, disengaged or even quietly resentful, it’s often a reflection of what psychologists refer to as emotional dysregulation. They’re not coping well, but they’re still showing up, likely driven by a fear of missing out, social obligation, or the belief that “something might shift if I just attend.”
However, once they’re in the room, they may unconsciously start broadcasting their emotional state, framing it as business fatigue, personal challenges or vague existential overwhelm. This often comes out in the form of long-winded shares, negative self-referencing, or attempts to “process out loud.”
This creates an unspoken tension. Group members instinctively shift into a caregiving or avoidance role. People begin to suppress their own messages, give up airtime, or mentally check out. The networking purpose is diluted, replaced by group therapy none of us signed up for.
We all know networking meetings have time limits and equal sharing slots. But our narrative-hogging friend didn’t get the memo. Or they did, but they chose to ignore it. Because this behaviour is rooted in social dominance theory and insecure attachment patterns. Some people, particularly those who feel threatened in competitive environments, attempt to seize control by speaking more, often disguising it as “just being passionate” or “trying to be helpful.”
Underneath this, there’s usually a fear, possibly something along the lines of: If I don’t dominate the conversation, I won’t be remembered. Ironically, they are remembered, but not for the right reasons.
In a breakout room of four lasting ten minutes, where each person gets one minute to speak about themselves and the rest of the time is supposed to be for genral chat. Well our hijacker uses 6 minutes, apologises with a cheeky “Oops, I’ve rabbited on again,” then proceed to keep going. By the time others speak, there’s little time or energy left for mutual exchange.
Resentment builds. Eye-rolling becomes visible in my case. People feel unseen, unheard, and less inclined to contribute next time. The dynamic becomes about surviving the meeting, not engaging in it. I once left a network meeting because one guy just would not stop…
Networking is meant to be collaborative, but some participants subtly or overtly try to control the group’s tone or topic. Whether it’s always steering conversation to their niche, overriding group agreements, or contradicting others with “friendly corrections,” the core impulse is the same: a need for psychological safety through control.
This is often rooted in cognitive rigidity or mild narcissistic traits. They may not feel safe unless the environment reflects their worldview, their goals, or their perceived expertise.
A group is sharing upcoming plans. One person interrupts to say, “Well, that won’t work in today’s market” or “What people really need to understand is…” placing themselves as the authority rather than a participant. One guy was even telling everyone that X movie was rubbish, thus ridiculing anyone who actually liked the film – how to make friends and influence people !
As a result, people shrink. They self-censor. Risk-taking and creativity decline. The meeting becomes one-dimensional and, let’s face it, rather dull. A couple of times, I have openly told the group owner exactly what has happened so that they can sort the problem out.
It may seem counterintuitive, but for many, the act of showing up, even in a dysregulated state, feels better than staying away. Networking represents hope, potential income, and community. It can also be habit-forming or part of a rigid routine.
However, when someone doesn’t check in with themselves either emotionally or energetically, they risk contaminating the room with their unprocessed stuff. In psychology, this is known as emotional contagion; where one person’s stress or negativity spreads to the whole group, unconsciously altering its tone.
For organisers: Set ground rules. Be explicit about time-sharing and respectful conduct. If someone repeatedly dominates, speak to them kindly but clearly. Networking is about mutual benefit, not emotional hostage situations.
For participants: If you notice this dynamic, name it gently. “Can we make sure everyone gets a turn?” or “Let’s loop back to Sarah, I think she got cut off.” You’re not being rude, you’re protecting the group’s purpose.
For the person themselves (if you’ve recognised a bit of yourself in here): Pause. Ask yourself, “Is this the right space for me today?” If you’re in a low state, it might be better to skip the meeting, or attend just to listen. If you struggle with over-talking, practise setting a timer or scripting your update in advance.
NB: sending a whiny email to the group owner afterwards which comes across as just attention seeking isn’t going to get you any brownie points…
Networking is a great space for ideas, opportunity, and connection. But when it becomes dominated by one person’s unfiltered thoughts, emotional state, or ego, it stops being a network and starts feeling like a hostage situation.
So next time you feel the urge to overshare, overtake or override, please just pause. Then ask: am I here to connect, or am I here to control?
And if someone else is that person, it’s OK to bring in boundaries, kindness, and a firm “Let’s give others a chance.” Because in the end, the best kind of networking is where everyone leaves feeling seen, heard, and just a little more energised than when they came in. Not emotionally vacuumed.
