A few months ago, I decided to rekindle my relationship with LinkedIn. I’ve had an account there forever, but haven’t paid any attention to it in…well…forever. Maybe it’s because I’ve been gainfully employed for a bunch of years in a row. Maybe I just never got my head around how it could be beneficial to someone who’s not necessarily interested in tearing up the corporate ladder. Whatever the reason, my account sat mostly dormant for a long, long time.

I’m going through a bit of a disconnect at my current job. By “a bit,” I mean “almost total” and “for almost two years.” Something’s got to change. So I decided it was time to check back in with LinkedIn to see if there was any help to be found.

After updating my resume and clicking around the Jobs section I bit, I was a bit optimistic. It seemed like there were lots of great job opportunities – some local, some virtual – and I filled out a couple of applications. Something about officially putting THAT out there – that you’re interested in moving on – felt good. And the notion that there was an audience for that was exciting.

But after a month or so, I started to realize just how ridiculous LinkedIn seems to be.

Where people on Facebook post Wordle results and links to gossip and alleged-news, people on LinkedIn seem to have found their own brand of useless content. It’s not political news, but it’s self-help or daily affirmation infographics that people proudly post. It’s not THEIR content…but they found it. And they post it with the same pride and reckless abandon as your aunt does on Facebook.

That part obviously bothers me, but what bothers me more is the chorus of congratulations that seems to follow. “Oh I agree, self-care is very important,” they say. “This,” they say, as though it’s a complete thought.

Why are we rewarding these people for posting a picture? It’s not helpful. It’s not instructive. It’s a fortune cookie. A Hallmark card.

LinkedIn is just another Facebook, but for your business contacts instead of your friends. My friends and family (and me, of course) post a lot of nonsense on Facebook as it is. It HAS to matter to me a little bit because they’re my friends and family and I care for those people.

Why should I be moved by a GIF about respecting others (like you expect to be respected) that a former colleague posts on LinkedIn? Does that person need a hug? I don’t really hug my friends and family. I’m not going to start hugging people I used to work with. Should I “like” or comment on that person’s post? Why on earth should that person care if I like what they posted? It’s someone else’s words, not theirs. They just liked it enough to post it. Now I’m liking that they like it.

It’s like clicking “emphasizing” when someone posts a GIF in a text. It’s ridiculous. And then THAT becomes something that someone else has to react to.

I’ve posted several times on LinkedIn. Always just text. Usually attempts at humor, which I initially felt a little bad about, since LinkedIn is supposed to be a more professional arena. But then the likes started coming. And the shares. And LinkedIn sent me updates on how my post was doing.

Hello, Dopamine.

So now LinkedIn is trying to rope me in. Trying to make me think I’m a budding influencer. Trying to make me post more and interact.

But I’m really just here trying to find a job. I don’t want an audience. Not like this. Somewhere in my pickled recollection, that’s what LinkedIn is for. Networking, not influencing. I suppose it was inevitable as soon as social media companies figured out how to monetize their products. It’s just not helpful to me. Quite frankly, I’m not sure how it’s helpful to anyone.

I turned 50 last year and I have no doubt that this is my general “old man” reaction to the current changing state of things. Maybe I’m just doing it wrong. Someone would have to work pretty hard to convince me that LinkedIn is something other than a rebranded Facebook at this point. And don’t say the “jobs” section. Every job I look at, LinkedIn invites me to see how I compare to the other 100+ applicants by paying for a premium subscription.

LinkedIn, if I could afford a premium subscription, I wouldn’t be looking for a new job.