LinkedIn

“Everyday we wake up and collectively make a world together; but which one of us, left to our own devices, would ever decide they wanted to make a world like this one?”

David Graeber

There are few things I find more disingenuous and robotic than a good old LinkedIn direct message.

For those of you who are unaware, I envy your ignorance. LinkedIn is a social network of sorts, purportedly used for professional networking and career development, with users posting their resumes and companies posting job ads. You can also organise events, post blogs, photos and videos, even take courses to boost your skillset.

In theory, it sounds great. LinkedIn could be, but I have found it to be the exact opposite of how one should approach making connections and building a profile. I have a small number of connections, and probably hundreds of messages urging me to “connect.” Strangers, or mutual connections of mutual connections, at best. Just seeing this kind of thing in the context of professional networking makes me want to bang my head against the wall. And I’m not alone in this. A quick Google search of any phrase equivalent to “I hate LinkedIn” will reveal countless posts on Reddit, Quora, blogs, and even opinion pieces in some of the more prominent news sites out there.

In February of 2022, I received this message:

“Hi Lawrence,

I hope you’re flourishing. I see that you work in Education. I’m interested in connecting with heart-centred teachers who are considering their options.

If you’re thinking of leaving, check out my scorecard survey: [redacted].

Regards, [redacted]“

Instead of doing what I’d do now – either block the sender or just ignore them – I replied:

“How much am I getting paid?“

I think this was a perfectly reasonable question. My time has value, and if people want to use it, I want to make sure it’s not time wasted.

For example: A couple of years ago, a young fellow named “Franklin” wanted my help with a job application. We decided to meet at a café, and ended up going over his resume and selection criteria for about two hours. Franklin struggled with key selection criteria, as do many others, but that’s not what I’m getting at here. When Franklin met with me, he offered to pay me for my time. I accepted. I also let him know that I was always available for a talk, and to reach out if he ever needed help. This guy was not entitled. He wanted my time, but knew that a person’s time has value, and was happy to compensate accordingly.

This was a reciprocal interaction. Franklin wanted my time. He knew that time and interaction had value. I wanted to match his respect. Simple matter of honour and respect.

“If I want X from you, I must give you Y, and Y must be equal to X.” Philosophers might argue against such a black-and-white view of distributive justice, but in the context of professional networking, I’m going with it.

But that’s a whole other discussion. Back to the heart-centred messenger, and their response to my question:

“I’m not sure what you mean by that?“

I wasn’t sure why they weren’t sure.

“Real talk – why’s everybody sending invites if they can’t even talk paper? This site is DOOMED.”

I don’t remember who blocked who, but that was the end of that conversation. While my snarky response might not have been the most mature approach, I honestly don’t think it deserved anything more. This was in early 2022, post-pandemic, when it seemed like my peers in the industry were all tired and burned out. Nobody was excited to be there. And while stress has always been part of the job, at least there used to be a sense of purpose and optimism in what we did. Not so much anymore.

Then along comes this garbage. Whatever happened to knowing your audience? This person hoped that I was “flourishing,” which was nice, I suppose. And they were reaching out to me because my profile just happened to mention my being a teacher? Some people in the industry were thinking of alternative careers, therefore I must have been too, right? Impersonal and out of touch are how I would describe this approach. Just the sheer condescension of this person and their message turned me right off. I wasn’t even thinking of leaving my job at the time, and I have never met one educator – be it teacher, education support, leadership or admin – who describes themselves as “heart-centred.” There was no effort, style or nuance in this message. In fact, I’m not sure the account sending it was even human.

The worst part is, accounts like this are not the exception, and they have made the overall site experience unbearable. LinkedIn – what should be a platform for professional networking and growth – necessarily turns the user experience into a distance-pissing contest where users are trapped in a cycle of self-comparison, under the guise of professionalism. Just picture a mass of bodies, like Dante’s Inferno, all scrambling to get those likes and endorsements. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.

How I would have written the initial message:

Hi [name],

Your profile caught my attention, since you mention working in specialist education. I’m looking to connect with educators in different settings and see where they stand on their careers, with the increased workload and pandemic-related stress of recent years.

Let me know if there’s a discussion to be had. If this doesn’t interest you, all good. Perhaps we can connect some time in the future.

Hope to hear from you,

Lawrence

Because at least you can respect that. It’s personalised, and doesn’t make assumptions about the recipient.

This is not rocket science. Obviously you want something from the recipient, so just be transparent about that, put your cards on the table, and see if they’re willing to meet you halfway. If someone messaged me suggesting an idea instead of bludgeoning me over the head with it, I’d feel more inclined to give them a more thought-out response.

Which is how I would go about networking, online or off: lived experience, a genuine interest in developing relationships, and a desire to share and acquire knowledge. Enough with the spammy bullshit already.