Loud music at networking events is an insult to everyone present, not just the one person who complains about it
Let’s say you want to host a networking event for professionals in your field. Quickly now: name three things you need for the event.
I think you need some light refreshments to hold people over until dinner. It might be nice to have some alcoholic drinks to get them to loosen up and talk to each other. And you need some really loud music to prevent them from actually talking to each other.
Does that last part make any sense to you? It sure as hell doesn’t make sense to me. I’ve tried to make sense of it.
Maybe it’s difficult to talk to someone you don’t already know in a very quiet environment. But it’s even way more difficult to talk to someone you don’t already know in an excessively loud environment.
It is true that most people’s hearing ability is inversely proportional to their blood alcohol content. With enough alcohol in the blood, one becomes kind of deaf.
It could then be argued that the loud music is necessary so that everyone can hear it. But that assumes two things: first, that everyone at the event will partake of the alcoholic beverages; and second, that everyone actually wants to hear the music.
If you want to hear some music, don’t buy a ticket to a concert or a dance featuring your favorite musical ensemble. Instead, go to a networking event, where they will loudly play some music you might actually dislike. That’s nonsense.
Loud music at networking events is an even more acute problem for people whose native language isn’t the main language spoken at the event.
Think of how difficult it is for you to pronounce a foreign language correctly in a classroom, where it’s presumably quiet, or at home with a language learning app, where you might not be able to control the neighbors’ noise but at least you can control your own appliances.
And now think of how difficult it would be for you to speak that language in an environment where everyone else is screaming, trying to be heard over unnecessarily loud music.
The loud music is also a problem for deaf people. Maybe they can still read lips in a loud environment. Look at yourself in a mirror and say lines like “How are you?” and “What does your company do?” in a normal speaking voice. Now try screaming those same lines. Do you think people will be able to read your lips and understand what you’re trying to say?
And don’t assume that deaf people are spared all the direct unpleasantness of unnecessarily loud music. Sound is vibrations, and vibrations still go through bodies that can’t perceive them like most other people.
Also, if the hearing people are stressed out by the loud music, they will transmit that stress and discomfort to the deaf people they try to talk to.
Maybe you successfully communicate something to a deaf person at a networking event. But then he or she responds with an unusual speaking voice and now you’re even more confused and stressed out than before.
Complaining about the loud music is utterly ineffective. The reaction to complaints about loud music is always the same. “You are the only one who has a problem with this loud music. This is the first time anyone has ever complained about the loud music. Therefore, since you are the only one with this problem, you must wear earplugs. Everyone else is okay with the loud music. You must be insane. You are a dumb buzzkill.”
If someone accidentally got splashed with mop bucket water at an event, he would get some genuine sympathy, even if it was actually his fault that he got splashed. No one would dare suggest that he must wear a raincoat everywhere he goes because of the possibility that he might get splashed with mop bucket water at some other event.
But the unnecessarily loud music is a problem for everyone, not just the one person who has the impudence complain about it.
A few weeks ago, a guy, call him “Johnny,” and his wife “Alicia” put on a nice multi-day conference. Unfortunately, the conference was marred by loud music at both the opening and closing receptions.
The conference attendees made a nice mix of people I already know and people I ought to know but don’t know yet. This other guy, call him “Mykelti,” came to scream-talk at me. If he offended me by screaming at me, he would have had the opportunity to apologize to me when he saw me the following week.
Mykelti didn’t dare scream-talk at anyone he didn’t already know. If he offended someone he didn’t already know by screaming at them, that would be the first impression they had of him, and wrong first impressions are extremely difficult to correct.
Knowing that I’d get no results complaining to the event staff, I looked for either Alicia or Johnny. That’s how I wound up at the VIP reception. These were people who had not just paid for a ticket to attend, they had paid big money to be acknowledged as sponsors of the conference.
There was also music playing at the VIP reception. But guess what? It was being played at a reasonable volume!
You could actually have nice, pleasant conversations at the VIP reception. And you could ask the bartender for something very specific, like a drink with three ingredients.
The message seemed clear: the event organizers care what the VIPs have to say about everything, they don’t care what the ordinary rabble have to say about anything.
But since we’re talking about Alicia and Johnny here, I’m willing to entertain a kinder, less cynical explanation. You see, the VIP reception room is smaller than the main reception hall. A smaller space requires music at a lower volume than a larger space.
Okay, makes sense, I suppose. But then, um… what’s so damned important about music at an event that’s billed neither as a concert nor a dance?
The VIP reception ended before the main reception. A few of the VIPs joined the main reception. Most of VIPs probably left, though. They got what they wanted out of the event.
A little later, at the main reception, the loud music was paused so that Johnny could make some remarks. Hardly anyone listened to what Johnny had to say. The pause of the loud music gave the conference attendees an opportunity to talk to new people, or really, to anyone.
Johnny tried the thing with the “clap twice if you can hear me.” Johnny had good intentions, but that “clap twice” thing came across as an insult to the conference attendees. It came across as saying “This is an I talk, you listen event.”
Loud music forbids conversation. It is therefore not conducive to networking.
Also, it’s a disservice to the music. The music they’re playing might be music I might like if it was being played at a reasonable volume. But as an instrument of torture, associated with an unpleasant experience, it’s not music I want to voluntarily listen to.
In summary, loud music at networking events is:
- A problem for people who came to the event to network.
- A problem for people serving food and drinks at the event.
- A problem for people whose native language is not the main language at the event.
- A problem for deaf people.
- A problem for the event organizer when he wants to address everyone in attendance.
- A problem for the composers and performers of the music.
- A problem for everyone connected to the event.
And not to put too fine a point on this: it’s an insult. We invited you to this event to network, but we’re not actually gonna let you network. Maybe you should just say “no thanks” to that.