Open LinkedIn on any morning and you’ll find that, overnight, everyone you’ve ever worked with has revolutionised an industry, learnt a profound lesson from a barista and been “humbled” at least twice. Meanwhile you made toast. The toast was fine.
Nobody on LinkedIn has an ordinary job. Nobody works in accounts. They’re “driving financial transformation”. Nobody went to a conference. They “had the privilege of joining thought leaders to shape the future”. The future did not ask.
It’s not lying, exactly. It’s translation. Here’s the dictionary.
LinkedIn is the only place where people describe going to a meeting like they’re returning from the moon.
The Announcements
The post: “I’m humbled and honoured to announce I’m starting a new position…”
The translation: I got a job. I’m not humbled. I’m smug, and I’d like my old manager to see this before his second coffee.
The post: “After an incredible six years, it’s time for a new chapter.”
The translation: They restructured my department into a shared inbox and a chatbot called Kev. Kev is doing my job. Kev is doing it worse. Kev is cheaper.
The post: “Excited to share that I’ve been recognised as a Top Voice!”
The translation: I posted every day for eight months and an algorithm gave me a badge, like a corporate swimming certificate. My children have stopped asking me to play.
The Life Lessons
The post: “My four-year-old taught me everything I need to know about B2B sales.”
The translation: My child had a tantrum at breakfast and I’ve decided it was a negotiation masterclass. My child doesn’t know what B2B means. Neither do I. Neither does my manager. Nobody does. We just keep saying it.
The post: “Yesterday, a taxi driver told me something I’ll never forget.”
The translation: I made up a taxi driver. He has a wise face and a suspicious grasp of quarterly targets. He is the only friend I’ve made this year, and he isn’t real.
The post: “I got rejected from 47 jobs. Here’s why that was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
The translation: It wasn’t. It was awful. But job 48 has a nice canteen, so I’m rewriting history in a positive font before anyone checks.
The Hustle Posts
The post: “I wake up at 4:30am every day. Here’s my routine.”
The translation: I wake up at 4:30am every day. My resting heart rate is a cry for help. My cardiologist has a LinkedIn too. He’s endorsed me for “resilience”.
The post: “Unpopular opinion: hard work pays off.”
The translation: The most popular opinion in history. Mostly held by people whose parents paid the deposit.
The post: “Agree?”
The translation: Engage with this so I appear in more feeds. I don’t care if you agree. Nobody has ever cared whether anyone agreed on LinkedIn.
The Comments Section
The comment: “Congrats!!”
The translation: I clicked the button that writes this for me. I don’t know who you are. I’ll do the same when you post that you’ve “decided to step back”.
The comment: “Great insights, thanks for sharing.”
The translation: I read one line. It was about a toddler. Please look at my profile. Please hire me. Please.
The comment: “This. 👏”
The translation: I have nothing to add but I’d like to be present, like a man who claps when the plane lands.
The Job Titles
- “Chief Happiness Officer” organises the office pizza. Was not consulted about the redundancies. Ordered the pizza for them.
- “Growth Hacker” sends a lot of emails. Nothing has grown. Except the unsubscribe rate.
- “Visionary Founder” has a domain name and a logo. Mostly the logo. And a loan from his dad.
- “Serial Entrepreneur” has started four businesses. You’ve never heard of them because they are all dead.
- “Thought Leader” has thoughts. Has never been seen leading.
So Why Does Everyone Do It?
Because LinkedIn is a networking party that never ends, and everyone’s terrified of being the person by the snacks with nothing to say. Especially now the robots are learning to do their jobs from their posts.
“Spent the day answering emails and ate a sad sandwich at my desk” doesn’t get 3,000 reactions, even though it’s the most honest sentence ever written about work, and the one most likely to be carved on your headstone.
Somebody should post that. Somebody brave. Somebody humbled. Somebody about to be replaced by Kev.
Agree?