An Introvert, an Extrovert, and an Ambivert Attend a Conference
By Mitchell Schuckman, PCC | Founder, The Schuckman Group
The Same Ballroom, Three Very Different Experiences
Conference season always seems to arrive with a rush. The name tags, the coffee lines, the quick “How have you been?” exchanges that fill every hallway. After attending hundreds of these gatherings over my career, I’ve come to realize the most interesting part isn’t the content on stage. It’s the people in the room.
Every conference is its own little world. You can feel the energy as the doors open, the noise rising as people reconnect and new conversations start. Some thrive in that environment. Others brace themselves for it. Most of us land somewhere in the middle, alternating between connection and retreat.
Now that I coach for a living, I see these events differently. They’re live experiments in how we relate to one another. The introverts pace themselves carefully, the extroverts gain power from the crowd, and the ambiverts move between the two with quiet balance. Each has their own pace, and none of them are wrong.
The Introvert’s Marathon
One of my favorite coaching clients once told me earlier this year that she dreaded conferences. “I always end up hiding in the bathroom,” she said, laughing. “Not because I don’t like people, but because I regularly need a few minutes alone.”
I understood exactly what she meant. For an introvert, a three-day conference can feel like a marathon. It isn’t that they dislike people. It’s that constant conversation and noise drain their battery faster than they can recharge it.
But here’s the thing about the introverts I’ve worked with. They may not talk to everyone, but the people they do talk to remember them. Their conversations are real. They listen, they ask thoughtful questions, and they connect in ways that last long after everyone else has moved on to the next reception.
I’ve told many introverts that the trick isn’t to work harder at being outgoing. It’s to make it easier on yourself. Ask others about themselves and just listen. Keep a few open-ended questions ready. People love to talk about their work, their teams, their ideas. You don’t have to perform, just stay curious. A few genuine questions and a heavy dose of listening can carry a comfortable conversation a long way.
At most conferences, there’s always someone standing quietly near the back, observing. That person isn’t disengaged. They’re processing, recharging, and quietly taking it all in. They deserve the same respect and empathy as anyone else in the room. Not everyone loves this environment, and that’s perfectly fine.
The Extrovert’s Playground
Then there are the extroverts. They live for these weeks. They walk into the room like they’ve been waiting for it all year. You can see their eyes light up at the first sight of a crowd.
I remember one conference about a year before I retired. Dinner had just ended and I was ready to call it a night. A few colleagues pulled me into the hotel bar for “just one quick drink.” The place was packed. Within an hour, people were laughing, sharing stories, and connecting on a different level than they could during the day. These weren’t forced interactions. They were personal moments that deepened working relationships and built trust.
Meanwhile, I was standing there, smiling, nodding, and silently thinking, When is this going to end? I was watching the clock, dying inside, while everyone else seemed to be catching a second wind.
Still, I admired it. For many people, these social hours are where the real value of a conference lives. Away from the structure of the sessions, they get to know each other as people, not just professionals. It’s their way of connecting, and they do it well. I’ve learned to appreciate that, even if I’m wired differently.
The Ambivert’s Balancing Act
And then there’s the group that sits somewhere in between. The ambiverts. I didn’t know the term for years, but once I learned it, I recognized myself immediately.
I loved presenting. I enjoyed meeting new people and talking with clients. I could work the hallways between sessions and keep the energy up all day. But once dinner ended, I hit my limit. I’d see the bar filling up, hear the laughter spilling into the lobby, and know I didn’t have it in me. I’d grab a drink, have two sips, and slip back to my room.
People often assumed I was an extrovert because I was comfortable on stage or in a conversation over lunch. And truthfully, I did get energy from those moments. But it never lasted forever. After a full day of interaction, I needed space. I had to hide, reflect, and recharge.
If that sounds familiar, be kind to yourself. You can be both. You can enjoy the crowd and still need quiet. It isn’t a contradiction. It’s self-awareness. Ambiverts can step in fully when it matters and step back when it’s time to reset. They can lead, listen, and recover, all in the same day.
Most professionals I know fit that description. They appear outgoing, but what others don’t see is the quiet recovery afterward. The early breakfast alone before another long day. The walk outside between sessions to clear their head. It’s not about being one way or another. It’s about knowing how to sustain yourself.
The Dance Between Us
What I’ve learned, watching all this over the years, is that conferences are about far more than networking. They’re about awareness. Awareness of how we show up, how we connect, and how others might need something different from the same experience.
The extrovert who notices a colleague hanging back and draws them in. The introvert who stays for one more conversation and ends up having the best talk of the week. The ambivert who senses the energy of the room and helps others find their pace. These small acts of awareness make conferences better for everyone.
When we show empathy for how others experience the same environment, we build trust. We create inclusion without needing to label it. The best professionals do this naturally. They notice who’s quiet, who’s thriving, and who might need space, and they adjust.
The best teams work the same way. They have range. A mix of energies, personalities, and comfort zones. When that mix is understood and respected, the whole group performs better. You see more connection, less burnout, and a little more humanity.
Finding Your Own Rhythm
If you’ve been through a few conferences, you’ve probably noticed your pattern. Maybe you’re the one closing the bar, the one scanning for an early exit, or the one pacing yourself so you can show up fully when it matters most.
None of it is wrong. What matters is knowing your pattern and giving others room for theirs.
Think about the people you work with, too. You probably already know which ones come alive in the crowd and which ones need space to think. The trick is adjusting just enough to meet in the middle. That’s how real relationships form.
When I look back at all the conferences I’ve attended, the moments I remember most aren’t the sessions or the speakers. It’s the in-between. The quiet walk between buildings. The short, genuine conversation with someone I didn’t expect to meet. The silent elevator ride after a long night, both of us too tired to talk but content to share the moment.
Those are the moments that stay with me. The real ones.
So as you head into your next conference, pay attention. Notice who lights up and who pulls back. If you’re full of energy, invite someone else into it. If you’re running low, give yourself the grace to step away. And if you’re somewhere in the middle, use that balance to connect others.
Because at the end of the day, it’s not about being one type or another. It’s about being yourself and letting others do the same. That’s how the best conversations happen, and the best connections are made, at conferences and everywhere else.