I’m not a terribly social person when it comes to breaking the ice with people. I play with my phone to look disinterested, or stare blankly at my shoes when waiting to pick up children. At the playground, I have a book, a notebook or something with me at all times so that I appear busy. I am busy, mind you, because the voices in my head are incredible company and keep my ever-churning wheels… uh, churning. Hell, even when I blog, I have to wait for something amazing to occur to even communicate with my three-point-eight readers.

Its not social anxiety, I just don’t like to bother people with  my random self-tweets that will likely cause others to flee my general vicinity.

No, wait, that probably is social anxiety.

However, when it comes to things like talking to clients about resolving web woes, I’m a master. I smile, I nod, I suggest ways to stick within a budget, timeline, etc. I mention past experiences with various aspects of what I do, from web content to social media to SEO, and the success I’ve seen, or the obstacles to success. I compliment my clients, or congratulate them, and thank them profusely for their business.

If I actually ran into a client, outside of a meeting, I would have nothing to say.

However, schmoozing is rapidly becoming part of my life, whether I want to, or not. Future business prospects that require schmoozability have me making better wardrobe choices, wearing more make up than I have in an entire decade (hmmm, wonder why that is, fucker) and obsessing over the stress-induced state of my eye luggage and still-traveling teeth.

This week marks my debut for a new adventure, completely based on schmoozing.

After this last week of totally amazing highs and a few shitastic lows, followed by possibly the best news I’ve heard in a long, long time, I’m ready to make this schmoozing gig my bitch.

No offense, of course.