Let’s talk about networking.
Not the cables. Not the routers. Not the blinking lights in a server farm humming like a monk chanting binary prayers.
I mean networking.
That sacred American ritual where adults exchange smiles, compliments, and business cards like ritual tokens, hoping one of them unlocks a slightly better seat on the Titanic.
Enter our protagonist: a real estate mogul with a Netflix show, a $40-million net worth, and a running tally of 101 billionaires met, as if billionaires are Pokémon and he’s trying to complete the shiny set.
And his advice?
After meeting over a hundred people who own islands, governments, or small moons?
Two C’s.
Compliment.
Commonality.
That’s it.
That’s the big reveal.
Ladies and gentlemen, after decades of capitalism, we have cracked the code:
Be nice and say you like the same things.
Stop the presses. Alert the monks. Rewrite the Constitution.
Because apparently the secret to wealth isn’t ownership, leverage, inheritance, policy capture, or luck—it’s telling a guy you like his watch and you both enjoy steak.
This is what passes for wisdom now.
And look, I don’t blame the guy. He’s not lying. He’s telling the truth as seen from the penthouse. He’s explaining the rules of the room he already has access to. That’s important. That’s the part nobody highlights.
Because networking advice always comes from people who already made it through the velvet rope and are now yelling directions back into the alley.
“Just knock confidently!”
Buddy, you’re holding the door open from inside.
But let’s break this down, because this story isn’t just about real estate. It’s about how modern success culture works, how it talks, how it flatters itself, and how it gently avoids the part where most people don’t even get invited into the room.
THE ROOM
Every room.
That’s the phrase.
“Every room I go into…”
Now pause right there.
What rooms?
Because that sentence is doing a lot of work.
Every room he goes into is already filtered.
Those rooms have security.
Those rooms have dress codes.
Those rooms have bathrooms that smell like eucalyptus and ambition.
Most Americans don’t go into “rooms.”
They go into cubicles.
They go into waiting areas.
They go into Zoom calls where someone’s kid is screaming in the background and the Wi-Fi sounds like it’s crying.
But success culture loves pretending we’re all just one handshake away from generational wealth.
As if the only thing separating you from a billionaire is confidence and eye contact.
No, no, no.
Sometimes it’s geography.
Sometimes it’s parents.
Sometimes it’s debt.
Sometimes it’s skin color.
Sometimes it’s timing.
Sometimes it’s being born into a system that decided you were background noise before you learned long division.
But sure—compliment the watch.
COMPLIMENTS: THE SOCIAL LUBRICANT OF CAPITALISM
Compliments are cheap.
They cost nothing.
They’re renewable.
They’re the ethanol of conversation.
“You have a great company.”
“Love what you’re building.”
“Big fan of your work.”
None of these sentences mean anything.
That’s why they work.
They are emotional WD-40.
They don’t challenge power.
They don’t disrupt comfort.
They don’t ask questions.
They say: I am not a threat.
And billionaires love that.
Because billionaires live in a constant state of subtle paranoia. Everyone wants something from them. Everyone is smiling too hard. Everyone is “just curious.”
So when someone compliments them without immediately demanding equity, they relax.
And when they relax, doors open.
That’s not charisma.
That’s survival instinct meeting wealth.
COMMON GROUND: THE GREAT PRETEND GAME
Now the second C: commonality.
Find something in common.
This is fascinating, because the wealthier people get, the less they actually have in common with most humans.
Their problems are different.
Their timelines are different.
Their consequences are different.
When they fail, they fall into safety nets made of accountants and lawyers.
When you fail, you fall into overdraft fees and HR emails that start with “Unfortunately.”
So what’s the common ground?
Golf.
Wine.
Travel.
Children.
Fitness routines that cost more than a used car.
This isn’t bonding.
This is cosplay.
It’s two people pretending their lives intersect meaningfully while standing on different planets.
But again—this works, because power prefers mirrors, not windows.
FOLLOW-UP CULTURE: THE TEN-MINUTE HUSTLE
Then comes the follow-up.
Ten minutes.
Seven and a half minutes, apparently, if you’re feeling playful.
This is where modern hustle culture crosses into performance art.
The unread message as motivation.
The endless pinging.
The “until they buy or I die” mentality.
That’s not relationship-building.
That’s a siege.
But it’s framed as passion.
Because capitalism has a neat trick:
It renames obsession as dedication and calls it healthy if money is involved.
Try applying that same persistence to a person who isn’t rich and suddenly it’s “concerning behavior.”
“PEOPLE HATE BEING SOLD, BUT LOVE SHOPPING WITH FRIENDS”
This line is brilliant.
Not because it’s insightful—but because it’s true in a deeply unsettling way.
People don’t want to feel manipulated.
They want to feel chosen.
They want to believe they’re making decisions freely while invisible hands gently nudge them toward the checkout.
Friendship has become a sales strategy.
Trust has become a funnel.
And authenticity?
Authenticity is now a tactic.
Once authenticity becomes a tactic, it stops being authentic.
It becomes branding.
THE BILLIONAIRE COUNTING PROBLEM
Let’s talk about the billionaire list.
“One hundred and one.”
That’s a strange flex.
It’s like saying, “I’ve shaken hands with 101 dragons.”
Okay. And?
What does that tell us?
It tells us billionaires exist in clusters.
They move in herds.
They share advisors, events, ideas, and blind spots.
They are not unicorns.
They are livestock with better PR.
And the more billionaires you meet, the more normalized extreme wealth becomes.
When everyone around you is worth ten figures, inequality stops looking obscene and starts looking like background noise.
MOMENTS VS TIME: THE POETRY OF THE PRIVILEGED
Now we arrive at the philosophical closer.
“Most people are in a race against time. The wealthiest people are in a race against moments.”
That’s a beautiful sentence.
It’s also easy to say when time doesn’t threaten you.
When your rent doesn’t reset monthly.
When your health insurance doesn’t disappear with a job.
When one bad year doesn’t erase everything.
For most people, time isn’t an abstract concept—it’s a predator.
Moments are luxuries.
Time is a debt.
So yes, take risks.
Yes, try things.
But understand that risk tolerance is directly proportional to how padded your landing zone is.
THE NETFLIX EFFECT
Let’s not ignore the backdrop.
A streaming show.
Cameras.
Music swelling when deals close.
Success packaged as entertainment.
This is crucial.
Because once success becomes content, it has to be simplified.
It needs slogans.
It needs mantras.
It needs digestible wisdom you can clip into a 30-second video with subtitles.
Two C’s.
Clean.
Catchy.
Completely incomplete.
WHAT THIS ADVICE REALLY MEANS
Here’s the translation, stripped of polish:
If you already have access, be pleasant and persistent.
That’s it.
It’s not bad advice.
It’s just not universal advice.
It works in rooms where everyone is already playing the same game.
It does nothing for people locked outside the building.
THE UNMENTIONED TRUTHS
No one talks about:
-
The people who followed up and still got ignored
-
The compliments that went nowhere
-
The rooms they never got into
-
The billionaires who were charming right up until the market shifted
Because failure doesn’t sell.
Optimism sells.
Hope sells.
The idea that you’re just one mindset shift away from a private jet sells really well.
THE AMERICAN DREAM, REBRANDED
We’ve taken the American Dream and turned it into a networking seminar.
Smile more.
Talk faster.
Be memorable but not threatening.
Follow up relentlessly.
Never appear tired.
And if it doesn’t work?
Well, maybe you didn’t compliment hard enough.
THE REAL LESSON
The real lesson here isn’t about compliments or common ground.
It’s about proximity.
Wealth accumulates around wealth.
Opportunity circulates among the already connected.
Advice flows downhill, rarely uphill.
And the people who succeed inside that system often mistake navigation for creation.
They didn’t build the maze.
They learned it.
Very well.
THE FINAL JOKE
So yes—go into every room with the two C’s.
Compliment.
Commonality.
But don’t confuse that with fairness.
Don’t confuse that with access.
Don’t confuse that with a level playing field.
Because the most important letter in the alphabet of success isn’t C.
It’s I.
As in: Invite.
And most people never get one.