Build Up. Build Down. Or Disappear Sideways.
I’ve never been to a networking event.
Not once. No rooftop mixers. No speed-mentoring circles. No early morning “power breakfasts” where everyone pretends not to notice the undercooked eggs or the existential dread. But I understand the assignment. You show up. You make small talk. You hope someone remembers you later for something other than the shrimp cocktail incident.
The problem is we don’t usually build networks. We build mirrors. People who are exactly where we are—same titles, same industries, same responsibilities, same pace. They move through similar systems, speak the same language, and validate the version of ourselves we’re trying to hold together. It feels like connection. But it’s really alignment—temporary, circumstantial, and fragile. The moment one of you steps away, the link thins. The moment both of you do, it disappears.
That’s the part no one prepares you for: how quickly it can all vanish.
You step away—maybe for a few months, maybe longer. A child is born. A parent needs care. Your body demands attention. Or maybe you just stop. The world got too fast, or too loud, or too meaningless and you decided to pause. You planned to come back. You assumed your place would still be there.
But while you were gone, things shifted.
The people you used to work with moved on. Some got promoted. Some left the profession. Some discovered Peloton and personal reinvention. The roles changed. The org chart redrew itself. And the network you thought would hold you quietly adapted to your absence by erasing it.
Not out of cruelty. Out of design.
Horizontal networks—the kind most people build—don’t hold up when things stop moving. They’re built on shared timing, momentum, and mutual visibility. As long as everyone is active and aligned, they work. But once someone steps away, even briefly, those connections start to fade.
That’s when you realize: what you needed wasn’t familiarity. It was continuity.
Not more peers at your level, but people in different places—those who still remember your work, and those who are rising into roles where your name still matters.
Because the people beside you won’t always be beside you.
And at some point, neither will you.
That is why vertical networks matter.
They offer something horizontal ones cannot: stability through change.
A vertical network connects you to people at different stages of power, experience, and perspective. And not just colleagues, but clients, strategic partners, former advocates, and future collaborators. Anyone whose memory, trust, or trajectory might one day intersect with your return.
It is not built on shared timing. It is built on shared investment.
Upward connections, such as mentors, senior colleagues, or long-standing clients, are valuable not just because they have more influence, but because they have seen more cycles. They understand how industries reset. They have watched people leave and return. And because they remember what you contributed, rather than just your job title, they can reintroduce you when you need it most.
Downward connections are just as important. These are junior colleagues, emerging professionals, or early-career employees who are already shaping the future of your workplace. They are learning tools you may not fully understand. They are building influence in places you are not yet looking. And they remember who treated them with respect, who answered their questions, and who made time when it was not required.
In practical terms, vertical networks create insulation against career volatility. They keep your name in motion, even when you’re not in the room. They make sure your reputation isn’t tied to a moment in time, but to a pattern of behavior.
Most importantly, they give you something horizontal networks can’t: a way back in.
Because eventually, you will step away. Or they will.
Sometimes you leave and come back. Sometimes you never leave at all, but the people around you do. They retire, reinvent, reprioritize. They exit the industry entirely. And suddenly, you’re the one still standing, but surrounded by strangers.
And when that happens, it won’t be the peers who bring you forward. It will be the people above and below—those who saw more than your presence. They saw your value.
And they remembered.
Five Tips To Staying Relevant (Before It's Too Late)
1. Connect Upward with No Agenda
Reach out to someone senior you’ve lost touch with. Not to ask for anything, but to let them know how something they once said or did shaped you. Remind them that their impact was real. People remember those who remember them.
2. Invest Downward Before It’s Strategic
Start mentoring someone younger, earlier, or less visible. Not because they’ll pay it back now, but because one day, they’ll be in the room you’re no longer in. And they’ll remember who made time when no one else did.
3. Replace Check-Ins with Value
Instead of asking “Can we catch up?”, send a thoughtful insight, article, or note that shows you’re paying attention to their work or world. Vertical relationships aren’t sustained by updates. They’re sustained by usefulness and memory.
4. Track Who Leaves. Then Stay in Touch
When someone you respect steps away—retires, relocates, or pivots—don’t drop the thread. Those are the people with long-term memory and long-range perspective. They’re often the ones who can reintroduce you when you need it most.
5. Build for the Person They’re Becoming
Don’t connect with people just for who they are now. Think about who they’re becoming. That intern? Future partner. That analyst? Future investor. See their trajectory and give them reason to keep you in theirs.