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Where’s the message?

I got the email overnight and when I clicked on it with heavy eye-lids guiding my fingers — I was able to decipher the link to LinkedIn. I immediately deleted the email and slowly went back to bed.

I woke up the next morning and retrieved the email. I’m currently looking for jobs and I need to explore all options — right?

I don’t remember what motivated my need for a LinkedIn account, but I’m guessing I did it because it seemed like the appropriate thing to do. Plus, it was the dawning of new platforms — fighting to prove why you’re better off registering than resisting the urge for progress.

It didn’t take long for me to be freaked out.

If you think Facebook sucks— then you might have escaped the punishment of a portal that serves as the ultimate torturer — for anyone with a past and a list of passwords — that are apparently useless when it comes to protecting your information and sanity.

The last time I paid attention to LinkedIn was back in 2013 — when my career prospects took a spin around a wheel — that’s still spinning. I bailed from my seven-year-stint at a prestigious financial firm and headed for the job that I thought would restore me.

Three months later — my life was ruined, and for the first time — ever — I had no cubicle to squeeze into on weekdays — before 9 am.

LinkedIn became another channel of hope that could possibly renew my faith in the job market through instant and revived connections. But, after about two weeks of usage — I lost control of all the stuff filtering in with astute randomness.

Aside from the traffic of content that paralyzes your mind the second the page loads — there’s also the dreaded notifications that pose as a mixture of bullies and distant relations. The hoax of invites to “connect” — from people you barely knew or knew really well but almost forgot— is a blatant hinderance to the space you thought belonged to you.

Everything on LinkedIn is catered to methodical madness — and that’s maddening.

There’s nothing real. It’s a fake world filled with a mirage of misleading and confusing jargon from bots posing as your best friend. One day — I’m being congratulated for anniversaries I can’t claim — the next hour — I’m besieged with orders to return the favor to a group that I no longer identify with or want to rejuvenate.

Then there’s the dreaded “Network” tab that features a collage of results that are collected after ritually programming my likeness into the verse of social networking — that is really a cover for our imminent destruction.

So, basically LinkedIn serves as the interface of our worst fears realized — as we scan the profile belonging to the bitch from NYPL — who made it her mission to fuck you over when you weren’t looking. She purposely deposited those receipts in the bin — and her plan worked like a charm.

Why would I fuck with her?

Then you have the editor from the very first magazine you had the pleasure of reshaping. He abruptly dropped the ball — with no consideration for the team he barely led.

I’m supposed to connect with that motherfucker?

The rest is a slew of weirdness that includes your mom — who can’t even pronounce the site she was about to join — until you thwarted her mission. According to LinkedIn — my dear mother wants to connect with her daughter — and she’s still waiting for the blissful reunion — that you’re putting off — indefinitely.

Actually she appears under the ambigious category of “People I May Know.”

I hate LinkedIn because I have a vision of how it could be better — but that would involve updates that will strip away the power to police and haunt users — who know they’ve signed they’re lives away — and yet can’t resist the privilege of being disconnected to anything that works.

I need to work. I’m not able to just chill with the sporadic payments that gratefully arrive when I need it the most.

The concept of a cohesive landscape that isn’t about the bullshit of algorithms with the residue it shits out for the benefit of mind-fuck sessions — each time you log on — can’t be that complicated.

And as you examine the faces you wish you could punch —you can’t avoid the vengeful smiles — sailing above your pending “Congrats,” which would be intolerable for any jobless web surfer who is dying for the intervention of healthy regulation.

LinkedIn has to be that experimental road map that leads to all the grazed wiring that is repaired at our own expense.

When shit went down with Equifax — I laughed hard. I used to have stellar credit — until I gave up a steady paycheck to pursue a full-time writing career. I’m still “code red,” but even in that place — I’m aware how vulnerable I am as a human — who surrenders her blueprint — each time she prays she can recall the answer to the question about a wedding location that never existed.

When I hit the “Home” tab — the results make me feel like a foreigner. Scrolling to find anything that feels familiar or welcoming — ends with the wave of a white flag.

I give up trying to be wooed by instruments of mass chaos.

LinkedIn is a purposed minefield of senselessness — which is ironic — given the nature of the job search and how imperative it is for the steps taken in the name of stability — to remain viably finessed for easy access — without the clutter of toys that are missing parts for re-building.

I hate LinkedIn because I can’t stop figuring out what we’re missing and how we don’t even bother to re-claim the narrative of real life connections without the interference of “search results” that need to be sorted accordingly — unless we don’t mind the messy offering that reduces us to the candidates we will never be — under the tutelage of a content-infused wasteland.

I suck at linking my mind with others — particularly when the page I initiated turns against me with no warning.

I’m not against the charms of “bot-ville” but I’m still a human being with the hopes of landing a job that I sorta like until I ditch it for a less honorable alternative.

And while I explore the haze of possibilities — I will refrain from the tentacles that promise to keep me PluggedIn— whether I ask for it or not.

I don’t like being fucked with — and that’s why I hate the internet.

Written by

Juggling Wordsmith. I have a lot to say! https://medium.com/membership https://www.patreon.com/Ezziegirl

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