Some thoughts about LinkedIn

I spent years not even thinking about LinkedIn. I had a 24-year run at one company. When I left that career to start my own business, it didn't really occur to me to use LinkedIn.

About three years ago, I waded back into the murky world of corporate and started helping people get jobs with résumés that actually reached human eyeballs and LinkedIn profiles that were “optimized.”

Today, as I updated my own About section, I realized something: LinkedIn is a whole drag now.

Honestly, I’m not the biggest fan of social media in general because, ugh…toxic and so one-dimensional. I still use it, but I try to make my corner of the interwebs a little brighter, funnier, more real.

LinkedIn, though? LinkedIn is the place I go if I want to see everything about corporate life that makes me throw up in my mouth. And I never want to see that. Yet like a good little businesswoman, there I was today, changing a word here and there…rearranging paragraphs…for why?

Because I think LinkedIn is where my ideal client will stumble upon me? And by reading my over-edited About section they’ll be transformed from a prospect into a client?

Barf. No. I don’t think that. I don’t even use LinkedIn that way. Honestly, I only have it so I can point folks to my background online. So they believe I’m real.

To me, LinkedIn has become the place to witness how much everyone feels pressured to conform to a standard they can’t even identify. It’s where people prove that every waking moment can be related to productivity, growth, leadership, or innovation. It’s where everyone wears their professional identity mask.

And don’t even get me started on the inbox. It’s a steady stream of strangers who were “intrigued by” my profile…who “want to build a network of like-minded professionals”…who “love the impact I’m having.” Then, three automated messages later, they’re pitching their masterclass or their magic marketing system that gets coaches to six (or seven!) figures.

I’ve yet to meet one of those people who was genuinely interested in me or my business beyond acquiring me as a client.

I get it. We all gotta market. Me too. I’ve even sent a few of those messages, but I felt gross about it, so I stopped. When I did reach out, I was honest from the start that I had something to sell...and I only messaged people I’d actually conversed with before.

Still felt yuck. (Insert sheepish apology to those people here...)

---

Sometimes I coach clients navigating career transitions to use LinkedIn like a giant conference center. Walk into each “room” (company) and see if anything looks interesting. If it does, like some posts, leave some comments. Be real. Be yourself.

Play the long game. Actually build relationships. Learn about the people you reach out to. Don’t show up empty-handed. Offer value. Be curious.

Some of my clients stick with it long enough to see results. Others are turned off by the false veneer that blocks any true connection.

And honestly? Career transition isn’t my favorite coaching niche. LinkedIn is a big reason why. On paper, it’s genius. In practice, it’s a dumpster fire. This is why I focus on burnout remediation and recovery instead.

Here’s the thing: LinkedIn is overflowing with people who’ve done impressive, even amazing things. I’m not disputing that. What I am saying is the human side is missing. Most of the time, it feels like a hungry monster stuffing itself on hubris.

---

We are all hungry for connection. Real connection.

So what’s the answer? I don’t know for sure. But I believe it has to do with authenticity...and a critical mass of people willing to actually show up as themselves.

So here I am…being authentic.

In addition to everything amazing I’ve done…I don’t always know what I’m doing. I doubt my decisions. I spend too much time picking fonts and colors, procrastinate more than I’d like, and lose focus. I don’t finish everything I start. Some days I can’t even decide what I want to be when I grow up. And honestly? At this moment, I’m not sure how hard I really want to work.

I scroll instead of creating. I forget what I was doing halfway through doing it. I talk a big game about balance, then stay up way too late for my own good. I buy books faster than I read them. I eat snacks and call it lunch. I celebrate wins for about five seconds before asking, “What’s next?”

I get jealous. I get impatient. I get tired of my own voice. I sometimes wish someone else would just make all the decisions for me. And when something feels scary? I’ll avoid it by organizing my desk, rewriting my to-do list for the fifteenth time, or even writing a blog post.

If you’re tired of the mask, too, you’re my kind of person. Let’s connect human to human, not profile to profile.