LinkedIn Is Too Noisy
My “old man shaking his fist at the sky” essay but the sky is the world’s biggest professional social network and I’m the old man I guess.
Don’t Do Work in a Coffee Shop
I read a lot of books about writing this year.
Three of my new favorites are Working by Robert Caro, Process: The Writing Lives of Great Authors by Sarah Stodola and On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King. All three dole out valuable advice for how to make writing a habit and what professional writers do differently. All three also spend a surprising amount of time discussing famous authors’ physical spaces — not just how, but where great writing takes place.
Odds are your favorite author did their best work in a quiet, solitary space. Caro, King, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, and many others did their best work alone in small rooms, many of them bare except for a typewriter, some spare paper, and (as Caro put it) “a plenty-big wastebasket.” Many of them are also quick to dismiss writing in public. It’s hard to do your work with a bunch of people around. It’s too noisy.
I think about this whenever I walk into a Starbucks. Nearly 20 years ago, Howard Schultz shared his vision for the Starbucks brand and the idea of “The Third Place.”
“At home, you’re part of a family. At work you’re part of a company,” he said. “And somewhere in between there’s a place where you can sit back and be yourself. That’s what a Starbucks store is to many of its customers — a kind of ‘third place’ where they can escape, reflect, read, chat or listen.”
Starbucks intentionally designs their stores to deliver on this promise of “the third place.” It’s why they have big tables, comfortable couches, nooks for working, and outlets for laptops and phone chargers. Starbucks stores have everything you need to sit down, plug in, and get stuff done.
But there’s a problem.
They’re too fucking noisy.
It’s LinkedIn. LinkedIn is the Coffee Shop.
LinkedIn is starting to feel a lot like Starbucks.
An environment that has everything you need to get your work done… but where it’s really, really hard to spend your time productively.
LinkedIn’s longtime CEO, Jeff Weiner, announced earlier this year that he will step down from his leadership post. This cleared the way for Ryan Roslosky, the company’s Head of Product, to become the new CEO. In a blog announcement, Jeff shared his view that:
“…it feels like LinkedIn is just getting started. That seems especially true given the impending impact of technology on the global workforce and the critical role LinkedIn will play in helping people effectively navigate the global economy in the 21st century.”
Jeff is right. LinkedIn has become an un-ignorable tool when you’re looking for a new job or trying to progress in the one you have. But here’s what Jeff didn’t say — and what he probably wouldn’t admit to. It’s getting harder and harder to use LinkedIn. The platform has slowly transformed from a powerful networking tool to a crowded, bustling marketplace. There are too many people selling their products, services, and selves. There’s too much virtue-signaling and self-promoting. Too many users who don’t seem to notice the bright yellow lane-line that divides their personal and professional lives.
There’s too much noise.
LinkedIn will tell you this is a good thing. More people are sharing what they know than ever before. There’s never been a better time to tap into other people’s knowledge, they say. And, again, they’re right. But here’s the problem. Many of these people have no idea what they’re talking about. The platform is awash with (as someone quipped to me recently) “B players teaching C players how to be A players.”
Did We Forget About Mastery?
These wannabe gurus are skipping a step. An important one.
They’re trying to build a personal brand before they actually collect the reps, experience, and credibility that real expertise is built upon. Instead of having faith that good work done repeatedly and shared publicly will lead to an audience, the playbook has been rearranged. Write some copy, snag an audience, and then figure it out.
I remember my first day at my business school internship in the marketing department of General Mills. A GM executive joined us in a glass-walled conference room to talk about branding. “What is a brand?” she asked us. The answers ranged. I don’t remember what any of the interns said. Our answers weren’t very good. But I do remember her response. A brand is a promise, she explained simply. It creates an expectation that can be delivered upon. Everybody today seems to be skirting that last part. The part about delivering. They’re focused on crafting a message that grabs attention, and figuring out how to make good on it later. That’s a problem.
Here’s an example. There’s this salesperson I know. This person has had a rough couple of years. They’ve missed their quota consistently. Here’s what they have done:
- Dropped many, many virtue-signaling comments on other “sales influencer” LinkedIn posts.
- Created a series of videos sharing their philosophy on selling.
- Started a podcast.
- Performed multiple musical numbers. On video. On LinkedIn.
Maybe this sounds a little mean. The truth is, it’s not meant to. None of this stuff in isolation is that bad. But here’s the question I want to ask them. “You did all this… instead of what?”
Maybe all this activity leads to more customer conversations. Ok — that checks out. Sales is a contact sport. Maybe more touches (even cringe-y ones) mean more prospects met with and more deals closed. But your professional life is a zero-sum game. Every hour you spend on something means an hour you can’t spend on something else. Opportunity costs and tradeoffs are real. How else could you accomplish the goal? Is this really serving you? Isn’t there a better way?
Here’s what I want to say to this person. Do the work. Stop worrying about likes, followers, and creating content. Show up and do your job. Learn from others who have been there before. Absorb what what they do well, and discard what doesn’t work for you. Repeat a billion times. Then pause. Marvel at your newfound mastery and reflect on what’s working well for you. That’s the stuff. That’s what you should share.
Be Kind or Be Useful
When asked to talk about the advice he’s given his daughters, Barack Obama says that he has tried to teach them to “be kind and be useful.” That’s good advice for anyone. But being kind and being useful are especially good guardrails for any of us thinking about sharing our thinking on social media.
Be kind. Don’t create content at the expense of other people. This is not the place to screenshot other people’s posts and launch a personal, unveiled attack on “what not to do.” This is not the place for your extreme political views (right or left). It isn’t the place to misrepresent your experience, or gripe, or complain. It is a great place to say thanks, give praise, or recommend a person, company, or service. To say that something you’ve tried or used or read is “good.” It’s a great place to encourage a friend or colleague on their promotion or recent success. It’s a great place to show people you support them. That you have their back. That you care.
Be useful. I’m sorry, but you aren’t Simon Sinek, and neither am I. The inspirational drivel isn’t helping anyone. If you’re really trying to help (especially if you’re marketing your company or, like many of you, yourself) then leave people with something they can do something with. A tool. A handbook. A webinar. A template. A checklist. An earned secret. Something that makes others look smart in front of their boss or (how about this?) actually improves their business or their career. Looking for a prompt to get you started? Try this. “Here’s what worked for me.” Go.
Final Thoughts
As any social platform becomes more popular, it must contend with a creeping consequence of a larger, more vocal user base: Noise. Facebook, still less than 20 years old, is already the classic example. A selective “Ivy-only” platform in its early days, Facebook (er, sorry — Meta) has been dragged in front of Congress too many times to count and charged with multiple flavors of deception. A product originally conceived as a way to stay close to your friends and family has become an unnavigable six-lane information highway, clogged with garbage, misinformation, and yes, noise. Like a disorganized kitchen cupboard, the ingredients you seek (connection, support, and insight) are probably all there — they’re just a lot harder to find amidst the clutter.
And before you call me a hypocrite, yes, I’ll admit it. I’ve added to the noise. Most of us have. Any moderately active user of LinkedIn (or any social platform) has a couple humble-braggy posts or virtue signals buried in their history. I’m no different. I am not a purist. I don’t believe the right number of these actions is 0. But can we agree to this? Let’s at least strive for minimalism. Be selective. Save your bullets. Each of us has only so many.
I’ll repeat my ask.
Be kind, or be useful.
And if you can’t do either, then please: Be quiet.
