Be yourself. The world will adapt.
I saw this in the grocery store this week, in white lettering on a red t-shirt.
Right there, clutching a package of cilantro-lime salmon, I wanted to hug the guy wearing the t-shirt but instead I thanked him.
Back home, I opened LinkedIn and within a few minutes, discovered the perfect content for anyone suffering from chronic insomnia.
Every post sounded like the author graduated summa cum laude from the School of Corporate Oatmeal. Each post an absolute masterclass in saying nothing.
“Here are 5 leadership lessons I learned from bossing around my barista…”
Please. Be real. Stop pandering for likes from LinkedIn’s algorithm.
LinkedIn is playing us. Literally.
Now LinkedIn entices us to play puzzle games. I get notifications: “Your move, Brenda. Solve now (quick win!) Patches is LinkedIn’s new daily puzzle.”
What does playing puzzle games have to do with networking and searching for a job that actually exists?
The platform is fake and manipulative because we stopped writing to humans and for humans.
We traded personality for polish and conformity.
That’s what bothers me.
“What my four-year-old taught me about online marketing and life long learning…”
Nobody talks like this. Not even at work. Well . . .maybe at work.
That’s role-playing what “professional” sounds like.
The algorithm didn’t force us to do this. Fear did.
Fear of being overlooked.
Fear of being authentic.
Fear of missing the next opportunity.
Now we treat authenticity like a corporate violation and a fireable offense.
We slowly filed off everything interesting about ourselves until we became completely interchangeable.
Frozen fish sticks have more individuality than the average LinkedIn denizen.
Terrified of AI taking your job? Relax. AI spews corporate oatmeal all day, but the very thing we sacrificed, our voice and personality, AI can never copy.
Unless you already do sound like a robot.
The fix isn’t to massage your profile to look like the next “influencer” (guilty as charged, we’ve all done it).
That only changes the wallpaper in your cell.
If your authentic personality is currently trapped inside a gritty corporate hostage video, staring blankly into a webcam holding up today’s Wall Street Journal . . .
Wake up.
The fix is to write like you talk. Express an actual opinion . . . yours not someone else’s.
Tell the awkward story. Admit that embarrassing mistake.
Use LinkedIn. Don’t let LinkedIn use you.
Be You. The World . . . and Linkedin. . .Will Adapt.
P.S. Yes, the cilantro-lime salmon was absolutely delicious . . . tastier than cold corporate oatmeal.
Ready for What’s Next?
Building an online business is messier and a whole lot funnier than the gurus dare let on. When there’s something worth sharing, you’ll get a Postcard from The Edge.
Expect real experiments.
Painful mistakes.
Occasional technical disasters.
Frequent face plants. Mostly mine.
The Edge isn’t a place. It’s where comfort taps out.
Where certainty nose dives off a cliff. And technology develops a personal grudge against you.
Businesses aren’t built at The Edge. You are.
