The Art Of Mingling When You're Not Wanted At The Party

The room was dark, with people clustered in groups of threes and fours. We arrived late, and I was wearing my best guess of what one should wear to an event where you are simultaneously expected and yet feel unwelcome.

Perhaps I'm exaggerating. "Not wanted" might be too harsh.

As the newly appointed CEO of a national sports organization, I was about to learn the unwritten rules of leadership in a world that wasn't quite ready for me. The first time this happened, I chalked it up to being new. Most people seemed curious but ultimately indifferent—which, at the time, seemed perfect. I just wanted to get on with the job. I've always hated mingling, though you'd never know it from watching me.

This room was a microcosm of power in Alberta—potential donors, parents, athletes, coaches, and officials. Anyone who was anyone attended this party. I was told it would be rude not to show up. It was the first of many times I would travel specifically to navigate these social labyrinths, and I knew it wouldn't be the last.

I repeated this ritual across nearly every province in Canada while leading the organization. Each event followed the same unspoken script: dress for success, look like you belong, wear a smile, shake hands. Though I don't typically drink, I would take a glass of wine, just to have something in my hand. As the years progressed, I began actually drinking the white wine.

The pressures of the job manifested in ways I never expected. At 50 years old, I found myself understanding why people drink. What began as a social gesture had become a quiet act of self-preservation.

I drank for the same reasons my young friends did back in high school: to relax, to fit in, to take the edge off social anxiety, to let go and feel good.

The gender dynamics were painfully clear. As one of very few female leaders in the sports world, I became accustomed to an invisible status.

Conversations would routinely flow through my male colleague, with people seemingly unable or unwilling to acknowledge my leadership role.

"This is my boss, Kim Van Bruggen," my work partner would say, deliberately turning towards me to make introductions.

"Oh, hello," they would respond awkwardly. In the beginning, most assumed he was the organization's leader.

It became a subtle game between us. The more people ignored me, the more deliberately he would make introductions, always polite but unmistakably clear: "She makes the decisions, so you may want to talk to her."

Only woman. Other than the geisha-dressed women serving us dinner. Tokyo 2018.

My colleague, who had spent most of his career in the sporting world, understood its less savoury undercurrents. He was my "mingling ninja"—neither of us particularly comfortable in these social environments, but we made an effective team.

His recurring comment to me was always the same: "Kim, you're so naïve."

I heard those words more times than I care to admit, for almost five years. Perhaps it was this very naivety that allowed me to persist in such a challenging environment.

"We can change this," I would insist. "They just need to get to know us."

When I saw how deeply mismanaged not just my organization was, but the entire Canadian sport system, I was shocked. Yet, I settled on a plan to fix it—the entire system.

Yes, I was naïve. Profoundly so.

In a packed room of national sport organization CEOs, I asked, "What does it say about us if we don't even try?"

People bought in. We began difficult conversations, established committees, and prepared agreements addressing governance, strategic planning, data management, and communications.

Yet, for all our discussions, it often felt like an elaborate performance—so much mingling, such a waste of time and money.

The recent headlines from Hockey Canada¹ and Soccer Canada² are merely the visible tip of a massive, systemic iceberg.

The industry continues to smile at parties, pretending all is well—a grand performance masking deep-rooted issues.

Those most invested in maintaining the status quo cling desperately to their prestige, terrified of being exposed.

The titanic is sinking, but they keep smiling.

What say you?

1. What’s your worst mingling experience?

2. Do you have any good tips for mingling—especially during the holiday season?

3. Have you ever done the trick with fake-drinking? Glass in hand, pretending?

1. Hockey Canada became embroiled in a scandal when it was revealed they had used a secret fund to settle a sexual assault case. A woman accused several members of the World Junior Hockey Championship team of raping her after the awards gala in Windsor, Ontario in June 2018. Hockey Canada reached an out of court settlement on behalf of the players, several of whom went on to become NHL stars. Since the allegations were first reported in 2022, the police re-opened the investigation and charged five players with sexual assault. They are currently awaiting trial which is expected in 2025.

2. Soccer Canada, the other jewel in Canada’s crown of sports, was busted for spying on it’s competitors at the Paris Olympics, no less. Flying a drone above a practise session of one of their early competitors before the competition started. The internal reports and finger pointing is becoming dantean.