I’m increasingly convinced that the LinkedIn algorithm isn’t run by people. It’s run by time travelers—specifically, those who’ve seriously messed up their navigation. Their intentions were probably good. They say, “We connect professionals.” But then on Monday, they show you a post from the Tuesday before last. A comment from last Wednesday. A congratulatory message for an event that ended back when the internet still made sense.
This isn’t an algorithm anymore. It’s a DeLorean on a business trip. Except it’s not heading toward the future. Instead, amid sparks, smoke, and serious drama, it returns exactly to the moment when the post has already lost its context. LinkedIn obviously isn’t running late. It’s traveling through time. Just without a plan. Without a map.
And without Doc Brown to exclaim:
“Great Scott, we showed them the post two weeks later!”
First, let the topic run its course. Let the author forget what they wrote. Let the commenters change jobs. Let the event collect acknowledgments, photos, and conclusions.
And only then does it say, “Now is the right time for the public to see this.” The feed isn’t a feed anymore. It’s a flux capacitor with a bad Wi-Fi signal. You open LinkedIn to see what’s happening today, and it delivers a business postcard from the past.
“Posted 13 days ago.” “You might find this interesting.”
It might have been. 13 days ago. Soon, LinkedIn will recommend posts to us before we even write them.
“This content will be relevant to you next Thursday, but we’ll show it to you last Tuesday.”
A professional network? Maybe. But with a sense of time like a calendar from 1997. Still, we’re not giving up. We’d keep writing even if we had to deliver our posts by carrier pigeon or in a DeLorean with no gas. The delay isn’t the problem. The problem is that they think we’ll stop because of it, and that’s where they miscalculated.
It seems our subscription to patience has no expiry date.
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