Stop Asking People to Keep You in Mind (August 25, 2026)

Don't ask someone to remember you when an opportunity comes along. Give them reasons to remember you before one does.

You've probably said it.

I know I've heard it countless times during my career.

Maybe you've just finished a conversation with someone working in college athletics. Perhaps they reviewed your resume, answered questions about the profession or spent 20 minutes talking with you about your career.

The conversation is wrapping up.

Then comes the line:

"If you hear of anything, please keep me in mind."

There's nothing necessarily wrong with saying it.

But there's a problem if that's your career strategy.

You're putting the responsibility for what happens next on someone else.

You met them.

You told them what you're looking for.

Now you're hoping they'll remember you when an opportunity appears.

What are you going to do to make sure they do?

Being Connected Isn't the Same as Being Remembered

In my last post, "You Don't Need More Connections. You Need Better Conversations," I wrote about something I've been seeing more frequently while talking with students, recent graduates and young professionals.

We tell people they need to network.

So they do.

They build their LinkedIn networks.

They attend conventions.

They introduce themselves.

They schedule informational conversations.

Those are good things.

But making the connection is only the beginning.

The next challenge is staying connected without turning every interaction into:

"Do you know of any jobs?"

That's where networking starts becoming relationship building.

And there's a big difference between the two.

Meet → Ask → Wait

Here's the networking strategy I want young professionals to stop using:

Meet → Ask → Wait

You meet someone.

You tell them you're looking for an opportunity.

You ask them to keep you in mind.

Then you wait.

Maybe they remember you.

Maybe they don't.

Think about what you're asking.

Someone may know hundreds — perhaps thousands — of people throughout their career.

They're managing their own job.

Their own staff.

Their own deadlines.

Their own family.

Their own professional relationships.

And now we're expecting them to remember that six months ago we mentioned that we'd really like to work in sports communications?

That's asking a lot.

There's a better approach.

Meet → Learn → Act → Follow Up → Add Value → Stay Connected

This takes more work.

That's exactly why it works.

1. Meet

Start the relationship.

Introduce yourself.

But don't approach someone because you've already figured out what they can do for you.

Get to know them.

Learn about their career.

Understand what they do.

Start with curiosity.

2. Learn

This is where the better conversation matters.

Ask thoughtful questions.

Listen.

If someone has spent 10, 20 or 30 years working in the profession you're trying to enter, don't spend the entire conversation telling them about yourself.

Learn something.

Ask what they wish they knew when they started.

Ask what skills they see becoming more important.

Ask what separates strong candidates from everyone else.

Ask about mistakes they've made.

Then listen.

3. Act

This may be the most important step.

Do something with what you learned.

If someone tells you that your writing needs improvement, write more.

If they tell you your portfolio needs work, improve it.

If they recommend learning statistics software, start learning it.

If they suggest reaching out to someone, make the introduction.

Advice without action doesn't change anything.

And here's something else I've learned:

People remember when you actually use their advice.

4. Follow Up

Imagine receiving this message a month after talking with someone:

"When we talked, you suggested that I strengthen my portfolio by showing more variety in my work. I took your advice and added several new writing and social media examples. Thank you again for pointing me in that direction."

Notice what's missing.

There's no request for a job.

There's no:

"Have you heard of anything?"

You're simply showing the person that their time mattered.

You listened.

You acted.

You're getting better.

That's how you begin becoming memorable.

5. Add Value

This is the part of networking we don't discuss enough.

You don't have to be 20 years into your career before you can help someone.

Maybe you see an article connected to something you discussed.

Send it.

Maybe they receive an award.

Congratulate them.

Maybe their school accomplishes something significant.

Acknowledge it.

Maybe they post something on LinkedIn that makes you think.

Join the conversation with a thoughtful response.

Adding value doesn't have to mean doing something enormous.

Sometimes it simply means demonstrating that the relationship isn't entirely about what you can get from the other person.

6. Stay Connected

This is where relationships are built.

Not every week.

Not with a scheduled:

"Hey, just checking in."

And certainly not every time you see a job opening.

Stay connected naturally.

Let people see your progress.

Celebrate theirs.

Ask questions when you genuinely have one.

Share what you're learning.

And occasionally reach out simply because you haven't talked in a while.

That's different from maintaining a relationship only because you think someone might eventually help you get hired.

Give People a Reason to Remember You

Here's the shift I want young professionals to make:

Stop asking people to keep you in mind.

Instead:

Give them reasons to remember you.

Become the person who follows through.

Become the person who takes advice and does something with it.

Become the person who asks good questions.

Become the person who improves.

Become the person who shows appreciation.

Become the person who helps others.

Become the person who stays connected before needing something.

Then something interesting happens.

When an opportunity does appear, someone doesn't have to search their memory trying to remember who you are.

They already know.

Your Resume Can't Do This For You

This is also why I don't believe career development can simply be about creating a better resume.

You absolutely need a strong resume.

But your resume can't build relationships for you.

It can't ask thoughtful questions.

It can't follow up.

It can't demonstrate curiosity.

It can't thank someone.

It can't show someone six months of professional growth.

And it certainly can't build your reputation.

Your resume tells people what you've done.

Your relationships help people understand who you are.

You need both.

The Five-Minute Follow-Up Test

Here's something practical you can do today.

Open LinkedIn.

Look at the people you've had meaningful career conversations with during the last year.

Pick three.

Then ask yourself:

When was the last time I talked with them?

More importantly:

What have I done since our conversation?

If someone gave you advice and you acted on it, tell them.

Don't ask for anything.

Don't send your resume.

Don't ask whether they know of openings.

Simply say thank you and tell them what happened because you listened.

Five minutes.

One message.

One relationship strengthened.

Career Development Requires Ownership

There's a larger lesson underneath all of this.

Nobody will care about your career more than you do.

Mentors can guide you.

Professors can teach you.

Supervisors can challenge you.

Friends can encourage you.

Connections can introduce you.

But eventually you have to do something.

That's why I've become increasingly interested in the space between career advice and career action.

Young professionals have access to more advice than perhaps any generation before them.

The information isn't necessarily the problem.

The harder part is creating a process for using it.

How do we help someone make the connection?

Have the conversation?

Identify what needs improvement?

Take action?

Follow up?

And continue building the relationship?

Those are questions I've been thinking about quite a bit lately.

I'm working on something designed to help young professionals connect, communicate and collaborate while taking greater ownership of their careers.

I'm not quite ready to share all of it yet.

But we're getting closer.

For now, here's my challenge:

Don't ask someone to keep you in mind this week.

Give someone a reason to remember you.

Stay Connected.

You Don’t Need More Connections. You Need Better Conversations (August 24, 2026)

The Gap on My Résumé Wasn’t Empty (August 18, 2026)

A Loss Left Unaddressed Never Stays in One Place (August 17, 2026)

An AI edited enhanced image of me

The Best Thing You Can Give Someone Might Be Your Time (August 12, 2026)

Stop Reinventing Yourself. Start Reintroducing Yourself. (August 11, 2026)

Today is the first day of classes at Spartanburg Methodist College.

You would think after more than 26 years working in college athletics, I would have the whole "first day" routine figured out.

Apparently not.

My morning got off to a slower start than planned because I couldn't find my black dress shoes.

I looked where I thought they were.

Nothing.

Looked somewhere else.

Still nothing.

Eventually, I had to stop looking because the clock wasn't going to wait for me.

That's when I remembered a new pair of Nike shoes our athletic director had given me. They were still sitting in the box.

So instead of the black dress shoes I had planned to wear, I opened the box, pulled out the Nikes and headed to campus.

Not exactly how I planned to start the first day of classes.

But while driving to work, I started thinking about how appropriate those shoes actually were for something else I've been thinking about lately.

Maybe there are times when we spend too much energy looking for the old shoes because they're what we've always worn.

We know them.

We're comfortable in them.

They're what people expect to see us wearing.

Meanwhile, there's a new pair sitting in the box.

And maybe it's time to put them on.

I'm not really talking about shoes anymore.

I'm talking about our careers.

Maybe We Don't Need to Reinvent Ourselves

There is a piece of career advice we hear all the time:

Reinvent yourself.

When you feel stuck, reinvent yourself.

When you want something different, reinvent yourself.

When you've been doing the same work for years, reinvent yourself.

When you reach a certain point in your career, reinvent yourself.

I've been thinking about that advice lately, and I'm not sure I completely agree with it.

Sometimes you don't need to reinvent yourself.

Sometimes you need to reintroduce yourself.

There is a difference.

Reinvention suggests that something needs to be replaced. That the person you've been professionally isn't enough for where you want to go next.

Reintroduction says something very different.

It says you've grown.

You've learned.

You've accumulated experiences that aren't captured by the title underneath your name.

And maybe people simply don't know that part of you yet.

When Your Job Title Stops Telling the Whole Story

For most of my professional career, explaining what I do has been pretty easy.

I work in college athletics communications.

I've spent more than 26 years in this profession. I've worked at different institutions and different levels of college athletics. I've written thousands of stories and releases, kept statistics, worked countless games, handled media requests, managed websites and social media, and done many of the things that come with working in athletic communications.

That is part of who I am professionally.

I'm proud of it.

But I've started realizing something.

It isn't the complete answer anymore.

Over those same years, I've hired people.

I've supervised interns and young professionals.

I've reviewed resumes.

I've conducted interviews.

I've made introductions.

I've helped people prepare for interviews.

I've talked with people who weren't sure whether they should take a job.

I've encouraged people after they didn't get one.

I've watched young professionals make mistakes.

I've made plenty myself.

I've watched relationships open doors that an application couldn't.

I've watched talented people struggle because nobody taught them how to communicate what they could bring to an organization.

And somewhere along the way, helping people figure out their careers became one of the most meaningful parts of mine.

That wasn't a reinvention.

It was an evolution that had been happening quietly for years.

I just hadn't necessarily introduced people to that part of me.

People Know the Version of You That You Show Them

This is where I think many of us make a mistake.

We get frustrated because people only see us for our current job.

But what have we shown them?

If everything you post is about your current position, people will associate you with your current position.

If every professional conversation is about what you currently do, people will associate you with what you currently do.

If your LinkedIn profile reads like a list of responsibilities from your job description, people will probably put you into a pretty small professional box.

And then we wonder:

Why isn't anyone asking me to speak?

Why doesn't anyone think of me for leadership opportunities?

Why don't people know I'm interested in teaching?

Why aren't people asking me about consulting?

Why don't people see me as someone who could do something different?

Here's the uncomfortable answer:

You can't blame people for putting you in a box if you've never shown them anything outside the box.

People aren't mind readers.

They know the version of you that you've given them.

If you want them to understand more about what you can contribute, you have to show them.

Not by suddenly declaring yourself an expert.

By consistently demonstrating what you know.

Don't Manufacture a New Identity

This is also where reintroduction can go wrong.

I've seen people decide they want to move into a different area and suddenly their entire online identity changes overnight.

Yesterday, they barely mentioned leadership.

Today, they're a leadership expert.

Last month, they weren't talking about career development.

Now they're a career coach.

That's not what I'm suggesting.

Your reintroduction needs receipts.

Ask yourself:

What have I actually done?

That's where credibility comes from.

If I want to talk about career development, I should be able to point to years of hiring, supervising, mentoring, networking and helping people navigate the profession.

If I want to talk about relationship building, there should be evidence that I've spent years building and maintaining relationships.

If I want to teach, I should be able to demonstrate that I've helped other people learn.

Your next professional identity shouldn't be something you manufacture.

It should be something your experiences have earned.

The Reintroduction Audit

If you've reached a point where you feel like your professional identity no longer represents everything you can contribute, try this exercise.

I call it the Reintroduction Audit.

It starts with four questions.

1. What Are You Known For?

Don't answer with what you hope people think.

Ask what they actually think.

If I called five people you've worked with and asked:

"What is this person really good at?"

What would they say?

Maybe it's communication.

Maybe it's organization.

Maybe it's solving problems.

Maybe it's developing people.

Maybe it's building relationships.

Maybe it's creating content.

Maybe it's leadership.

Whatever the answers are, write them down.

That's your current professional reputation.

2. What Else Are You Good At?

Now look beyond your job description.

What have you learned because you've spent years doing the work?

A veteran athletic communicator, for example, isn't simply someone who knows how to write a game recap.

They may also understand crisis communication, project management, event operations, leadership, personnel management, storytelling, media relations, technology, mentoring and dozens of other skills.

Your job title may tell people what department you work in.

It doesn't necessarily tell them what you know.

Make that list too.

You may be surprised by how much you've accumulated.

3. What Do You Want People Calling You About?

This may be the most important question.

What opportunities do you want?

Speaking?

Teaching?

Mentoring?

Consulting?

Leadership?

A different role?

Committee work?

Something completely outside your current industry?

Be specific.

Because saying, "I'm open to opportunities," isn't much of a strategy.

If you don't know what you want people to think of you for, they certainly won't know either.

4. Where Is the Evidence?

Now comes the test.

Look at your last 10 LinkedIn posts.

Look at your bio.

Look at your website.

Look at your resume.

Think about the conversations you've had recently.

Do those things support what you said in Question 3?

If you want people to see you as a mentor but never talk about developing people, there's a disconnect.

If you want speaking opportunities but never share ideas publicly, there's a disconnect.

If you want people to see you as a leader but your professional presence only talks about tasks you've completed, there's a disconnect.

The solution isn't to announce a new brand.

Start showing the work.

Your Experience Has More Than One Use

I think this is particularly important for people who have been in their careers for a long time.

At some point, experience has to become more than something we list chronologically on a resume.

It should become something we can give away.

The mistakes become lessons.

The relationships become connections we can make for someone else.

The failures become warnings.

The successes become examples.

The experiences become stories.

And the knowledge becomes something we can teach.

That's one reason I've become increasingly interested in career readiness and professional development.

It's also part of the thinking behind GetSET2Connect.

I'm not trying to walk away from athletic communications.

Quite the opposite.

I'm asking:

What can more than 26 years in this profession teach someone who is just getting started?

How can those experiences help somebody write a better resume?

Prepare for an interview?

Build genuine relationships?

Ask better questions?

Handle rejection?

Figure out whether an opportunity is actually right for them?

Stay connected with people after meeting them?

Understand that networking isn't collecting contacts but building relationships?

Those lessons came from athletic communications.

Now they can serve another purpose too.

You Don't Have to Leave Something Behind to Grow

This might be the biggest lesson I've learned from thinking about all of this.

Growth doesn't always require leaving something behind.

Sometimes it means adding another layer.

You can be an athletic communicator and a mentor.

A coach and an educator.

A marketer and a teacher.

An administrator and a speaker.

A journalist and a consultant.

Your professional identity doesn't have to fit neatly inside one box.

But people won't automatically understand all those layers.

You have to help them see them.

That happens through what you write about.

What you talk about.

What you volunteer for.

Who you help.

What problems you solve.

What questions you ask.

And what you consistently contribute.

Over time, the introduction starts changing.

Not because you've suddenly become someone else.

Because people finally have a clearer picture of who you've become.

Maybe It's Time to Open the Box

Which brings me back to those shoes.

This morning, I was looking everywhere for the pair I expected to wear.

The familiar pair.

The pair that fit the picture I had in my head for how I was supposed to show up on the first day of classes.

I couldn't find them.

So I opened a box and put on something new.

I'm still the same person.

I'm still walking onto the same campus.

I'm still doing work that matters to me.

I'm just wearing a different pair of shoes.

Maybe there's a career lesson in that.

Sometimes we're so busy searching for the version of ourselves that we've always known that we overlook the version that's already sitting there waiting for us.

You don't have to throw away the old shoes.

And you certainly shouldn't pretend you've suddenly become someone completely different.

But maybe it's okay to put on the new pair and let people see another side of you.

So here's the question I've been asking myself, and I'll leave it with you:

If I asked 10 people in your professional network what you're good at, would their answers match what you want the next chapter of your career to look like?

If the answer is yes, keep building.

If the answer is no, don't panic.

 Stop reinventing yourself. Start reintroducing yourself.

We’re Preparing Students for Athletic Communications Jobs That Don’t Exist Anymore (August 10, 2026)

When I started working as a sports information intern at Navy  in 1999, nobody asked me how well I could shoot vertical video.

Nobody asked whether I understood social media analytics.

NIL wasn't part of our vocabulary. Artificial intelligence wasn't sitting on our desktops. TikTok didn't exist. Neither did Instagram, X or YouTube.

The job was different.

And that's exactly the point.

More than 26 years later, I worry that we're sometimes preparing students and young professionals for the athletic communications jobs many of us entered instead of the jobs they're actually going to inherit.

That's not a criticism of students.

It's a challenge to those of us responsible for preparing them.

The Job Changed

Writing still matters.

Statistics still matter.

Accuracy absolutely matters.

Media relations, storytelling, historical records and institutional knowledge still matter.

But they're no longer enough.

Look at what can land on the desk of an athletic communications professional today.

Social media. Photography. Video. Graphic design. Website management. Live statistics. Streaming. Analytics. Branding. Crisis communication. NIL. Content strategy. Media relations. Artificial intelligence.

And sometimes all of that happens before lunch.

Yet we can still fall into the trap of giving students experiences built around an older version of the profession.

Keep stats.

Write the recap.

Update the website.

Post the score graphic.

Repeat.

Those are useful skills. But if that's the majority of someone's internship or student-worker experience, are we really preparing that person for what comes next?

I don't think we are.

Experience Isn't Automatically Development

This is where I think those of us already working in college athletics need to challenge ourselves.

We frequently tell young people they need experience.

I agree.

But simply being inside an athletic department doesn't guarantee meaningful professional development.

There's a difference between giving someone work and teaching someone how to work.

Did we explain why we made a communications decision?

Did we let them sit in on the meeting?

Did we teach them how to handle a coach who isn't happy?

Did they learn how to build a content plan instead of simply receiving one?

Did we let them make decisions?

Did we allow them to make mistakes?

Did we teach them how to fix those mistakes?

Did they learn how to communicate professionally when something goes wrong?

Those lessons are harder to put on a checklist.

They're also some of the most important lessons we can teach.

We Can't Complain About Readiness Without Helping Create It

I've heard versions of the same concern throughout college athletics:

"Young professionals aren't ready."

Sometimes that's true.

But I think we need to ask a harder question.

Ready for what?

If we're expecting a 22-year-old to arrive knowing how to write, shoot video, create graphics, manage social media, understand analytics, operate statistical software, communicate with coaches, handle pressure and understand emerging technology, where exactly were they supposed to learn all of that?

A classroom can teach part of it.

An internship can teach part of it.

Professional organizations can teach part of it.

Mentors can teach part of it.

But employers have a responsibility, too.

We cannot complain about the preparation of the next generation while providing opportunities that amount to little more than inexpensive labor.

If we want better young professionals, we need to create better places for them to become professionals.

Teach Them How to Think

Technology will keep changing.

The software we're using today won't necessarily be the software they're using five years from now.

That's why I don't think our biggest responsibility is teaching young professionals every tool.

We need to teach them how to think.

Why are we telling this story?

Who is the audience?

What does success look like?

What could go wrong?

What information are we missing?

Who needs to know?

What's the best way to communicate it?

What happens next?

Those questions don't become obsolete when a new platform appears.

Neither do curiosity, judgment, reliability, communication and relationships.

Those are career skills.

AI Makes This Even More Important

Artificial intelligence makes this conversation even more urgent.

Some of the tasks that once consumed significant portions of our workday can now be completed much faster.

That's a good thing.

But saving time only matters if we do something valuable with the time we save.

Young professionals need to learn how to work with AI while understanding where human judgment still has to take over.

AI can help organize information.

It can help brainstorm.

It can help identify patterns.

It can help turn a blank page into a starting point.

But it doesn't know your coach.

It doesn't know your student-athlete.

It doesn't understand the history behind a difficult conversation.

It doesn't own the consequences when information is wrong.

Those responsibilities still belong to us.

And teaching young professionals that distinction may become one of the most important things we do.

Give Them Something They Can Own

One of the simplest changes we can make is giving students and young professionals ownership.

Not just assignments.

Ownership.

Give someone a sport and let them help develop its communications plan.

Let them pitch a storytelling idea.

Have them look at the analytics afterward and explain what worked.

Ask them what they would change.

Let them participate in conversations instead of always waiting outside the room.

Give them a project where the answer isn't already predetermined.

Then coach them through it.

There will be mistakes.

Good.

That's part of development.

I'd rather have someone make a correctable mistake while they have an experienced professional beside them than encounter that situation for the first time when they're alone in their first full-time job.

Day 365

Here's the question I think every supervisor with an intern, graduate assistant or student worker should ask:

If this person spends one year working with me, what will they be able to do on Day 365 that they couldn't do on Day 1?

Not how many games they worked.

Not how many releases they wrote.

Not how many graphics they posted.

What can they do?

What decisions can they make?

What problems can they solve?

How much more confident are they?

How much better do they communicate?

What do they understand about the profession that they didn't understand before?

And perhaps most importantly:

Are they more prepared for their next opportunity because they spent this year with us?

If we can't answer that question, we shouldn't immediately blame the student.

Maybe we need to examine the experience we're providing.

The athletic communications profession isn't going backward.

Neither should the way we prepare people for it.