I’m getting really sick of those goddamn emails you regularly dump in my inbox telling me about “Jobs I May Be Interested In.” I once really did apply for one of those jobs. Three days later I drove 110 miles to find myself at some too-hip-for-you consulting firm run by some too-cool-to-comb-his-hair megalomaniac sociologist who apparently thinks that surprise group interviews allotting 10 minutes to each candidate are a responsible way to hire people. They sent the rejection email before I even finished swerving my way back the 110 miles under the influence of my job interview-strength dose of tranquilizers. I don’t find your juicy-looking fraudulent job ads that you spam out to me to be very credible anymore.
And why don’t you stop flashing a bunch of “People I May Know” in my face every time I sign into my account. Yes, I do in fact know all those people. But you know what? I really don’t want to know that the flakey classmate who never even showed up to two seminars in a row now manages the grants at Big Fat Important Foundation That [supposedly] Saves the World. I don’t want to know that the pompous classmate who sat in the back of the room and snickered the time I flounderingly taught a class to the undergrads is now a policy analyst at the RAND Corporation. I really, really, REALLY don’t want to see blinking back at me the profile of the former internship supervisor who had the gracious generosity to tell a reference checker that I’m “on the introverted side.” And, for the love of god, what is my therapist doing in the side panel of my home page? The quack I went to years ago, who only made my problems worse? Are you trying to re-traumatize me, LinkedIn? Is this how you lure people into buying a “Premium” account? Is this your idea of good marketing? Exactly what kind of algorithms do your IT guys dream up in their hookah smoke-filled cubicle dens?
Yes, LinkedIn, I do have skills, but I’m not particularly interested in showcasing them on your behavioral-marketing-disguised-as-professional-networking scam of a website. I’m not inspired by your carefully fabricated, confining, white collar milieu of overachieving Type A tight asses who have reached self actualization via their flawless CV and steady, unobstructed career trajectories. And I’m not very inclined to buy into the gimmicks of an enterprise that so obviously builds its reputation as the be-all-end-all in career development, in “talant acquisition,” in networking, and in all those other fill-in-the-blank-empty-catch-phrases by capitalizing on the anxieties of a vulnerable and exploited workforce.
So, why don’t you stop sending me your goddamn emails with job ads put out by flesh-eating Caligula managers. Stop advising me to add more “skills” tags to my profile so that I can “get noticed” by recruiters. And stop trying to convince me that if I buy a Premium account with my $9.50-an-hour-with-no-benefits temporary employee paycheck that I’ll be as happy as the smiling blond 22-year-old on your login page who says that thanks to you, she’s “never had to make a cold call since 2005.” (I don’t even think she had finished the 10th grade yet in 2005.)