This story on LinkedIn was in the SMH, written by Kate Halfpenny.
“Is there anything more draining than the notifications that one person has viewed your profile, you have four invitations (mine today included one to congratulate a fellow called George K who looks like a 1990s magician but isan “ambassador” for a currency firm), or that someone needs affirming “you got this, queen” messages in response to their mental health status update?
LinkedIn, the mental health being affected is mine. Once I could merely expand my professional network or see jobs I could get if I had skills other than being an organised fast typer.
Now I need to run the gamut of not just being asked if I want to run a profitable aged care business, but of folk talking up kids (“shameless parent plug, but I’m so proud of this one”), saying their latest marathon “yielded more mysteries”, thanking a PR for a primer (“amazing surprise”) and imploring us to find our tribe who will “accept without judgment” so we can “reimagine life” when the universe “amplifies the whispers in your heart”.
LinkedIn has more than jumped the shark. It’s become the hunting ground for insufferables, a full-blown self-promotion circus. And this is from someone who draws a wage from writing LinkedIn “About Me” profiles.
This week’s example of British brewery co-founder James Watt’s LinkedIn engagement announcement is proof of the site’s descent into absurdity. Watt, going for corporate humour, described his proposal to a raw dog food entrepreneur as a “long-term contractual arrangement poised for future growth”.
Fun, but no cigar. The internet’s reaction was brutal. One X (formerly Twitter) user’s response – “LinkedIn is a disease” – summed up the general sentiment, with tens of thousands agreeing.
There was a time LinkedIn was a quiet corner of the internet for like-minded professionals to connect, learn, share insights. It was dignified, sometimes a bit dry, but it knew what it was. Now it’s an embarrassing melange of humblebrags and memes.
At least on Instagram, people own the performative self-promotion. You know they’re showing off. But on LinkedIn, it’s like we’re supposed to take it seriously. The earnestness is hilarious. Somehow, even that bloke from school who you’re pretty sure still lives with his parents is now a “visionary” in supply chain management.
It doesn’t stop at grandiose job titles. LinkedIn has become a breeding ground for inspirational stories with moral arcs worthy of a Greek tragedy or The Voice. You know the ones: “Ten years ago, I was broke, living in my car and had never even heard of digital marketing or spiritual awakenings. But today? I closed my 15th seven-figure deal.”
LinkedIn has evolved into a virtual stage where everyone’s vying for applause with news that would normally go straight to your junk folder, and we have to encourage it or look churlish. We scroll, watching people act like they’re the protagonist of a business epic instead of organising an offsite meeting.”