By the end of our conversation, John was giving me insightful advice about and contacts for my young company (YaYa at the time). He invited me to keep in touch in the coming years. I hoped our paths would cross many more times over the years, and they certainly have. When Professor Winks—Robin—passed away just a week later, we shared our memories of him. A few months later, I met a successful businessman from Cincinnati who was bragging about the museum enshrining the Underground Railroad and I made a point of putting him in touch with John Pepper for fundraising. I've probably introduced two or three potential donors to John in the last year.

I had no affiliations or organizations in common with the other CEO I wanted to meet. Luckily, a random Google search revealed that she had run the New York City Marathon the previous year. I know firsthand how much commitment and sacrifice it takes to train day in and day out to run and complete a marathon. I had tried—and failed. I had begun to train for a marathon one year, but my knees started to act up, to my disappointment. By the way, I'm always looking for good advice on how I might someday be able to run a marathon.

When I ran into this CEO, I said, "You know, I don't know how you do it. I like to think I'm in great shape, but the training for a marathon killed me. I had to stop."

Of course, she was surprised. "How the heck did you know I ran a marathon?" she happily quipped.

I never shy away from mentioning the research I've done. "I always make a special effort to inquire about the people I'd like to meet." Inevitably, people are flattered. Wouldn't you be? Instantly, the other person knows that rather than suffering through a strained half hour with a stranger, they're able to connect with someone with whom they share an interest, someone who has gone out of his way to get to know them better.

As it happened, the day before I had gone through "Barry's Boot Camp," a tough-as-nails but totally exhilarating exercise regimen in West Hollywood, not far from the conference. I said, "If you want an amazing and different workout sometime, you should consider boot camp." In return, I received some welcome advice for extending my running regimen. Later, she tried boot camp with me and loved it.

To this day, each time she and I meet, we talk about Barry's Boot Camp and I give her my progress report on my goal of running a marathon. And what I have found with those I've converted to my boot camp workout is that when they visit L.A., they might not have time to take a meeting or lunch with others, but they often do make one nonbusiness detour—and we have one hardcore workout together.

Once again, your goal in such a setting is to transform what could be a forgettable encounter into a blossoming friendship. There are shortcuts in my system, but this isn't one of them. I wouldn't have been able to reach out to these individuals, and truly connect, without doing my homework.

Once you've taken the time to figure out what your mission is and where you want to get to, the next step is to identify the people who can help you get there.

The successful organization and management of the information that makes connecting flourish is vital. Tracking the people you know, the people you want to know, and doing all the homework that will help you develop intimate relationships with others can cause one heck of an information overload. How do you manage it? Luckily, today we have a whole new set of software and hardware tools that can help us deal with the task in an orderly fashion.

But you don't need the latest and greatest gadgets. Ink and paper are a perfectly suitable way to keep track of the new people in your expanding social life. I'm a list-taking madman, and you should become one, too.

My experience at YaYa is a good example of how lists help people achieve their goals. On my last day at Starwood, I made more than forty phone calls. One of them was to Sandy Climan. What's interesting about the call, and the dozens of others like it I made that day, is that long before any of these people knew me, many of them had been on one of many lists I'd been keeping for years.

It was Sandy who eventually recruited me to YaYa. It didn't hurt that one of the other investors with a stake in the company, Knowledge Universe, was backed by the famed financier Michael Milken, who ultimately became a mentor of mine whom I'd met through a mutual nonprofit interest.

In November 2000, the YaYa board named me CEO and handed me two goals: establish a viable business model, and either find a major investor or sell the company to a well-heeled strategic acquirer. At the time, YaYa had the technology to invent online games that corporations could use to attract and educate their customers, but the company had no customers—or revenue.

First, I sat down and established a ninety-day, one-year, and three-year mission in my Networking Action Plan. Each goal required me to connect with and develop different parts of my network.

In ninety days, I had to establish credibility with the board, gain the trust of my employees, and set a clear direction for the business.

In a year, I wanted to have enough blue-chip accounts to be close to profitability and moving toward making the company attractive for potential acquisition. Most important, I had to prove to the outside world that YaYa was producing something worthwhile. The concept of advergaming, which wasn't even a word then, was not considered a viable segment of the advertising market. Interactive ads were hopelessly ineffective, and banner ads on Web sites were now considered an industry joke. We had to differentiate ourselves.

I wanted a business model in place three years down the road that could function without me, gain liquidity for my investors, and solidify the company's standing as a thought leader in the online marketing arena.

To make these goals possible, I mapped out the most important players in both the online and games industries, from CEOs and journalists to programmers and academics. My goal was to get to know almost all of them within a year.

To create excitement around our product, I wrote down a list of people I called "influentials": the early adopters, journalists, and industry analysts that help spread the initial buzz about a product or service. Next, I made a list of potential customers, potential acquirers, and people who might be interested in funding us down the road. (In creating your own categories, each should correspond to your own goals.)

When you make such lists, it's important you name the actual decision makers, and not just an organization. The point here is to have a readily accessible and specific list of names.

At the outset, concentrate on the people who are already part of your existing network. I bet you have no idea how vast and widespread it really is. As I noted in the previous chapter, take the time to list people such as:

Relatives

Friends of relatives

All your spouse's relatives and contacts

Current colleagues

Members of professional and social organizations

Current and former customers and clients Parents of your children's friends Neighbors, past and present

People you went to school with

People you have worked with in the past People in your religious congregation Former teachers and employers

People you socialize with

People who provide services to you

Next, I enter the gathered names into a database. (I tend to use Microsoft's Outlook, but there are plenty of programs out there that are just as good.) I then create call sheets by region, listing the people I know and those I'd like to know. When I'm in a given town, I'll try to phone as many people as I can. I have the numbers in my Palm and BlackBerry; both devices have unique and important functionality to me, so I've kept both.