This morning I wrote a piece about how, as we grow up, we lose the freedom to be beginners. After about an hour, LinkedIn notified me that my post had reached 44 people. Two reactions, two comments, and not a single view outside my existing network. I have to admit I’m impressed. Back in the day, such limited reach would have required founding a secret society. Today, all it takes is a public post.
It’s not that LinkedIn doesn’t encourage us. On the contrary. It advises us to be authentic, share experiences, spark conversations, and build a professional community. It’s all a nice idea. I just haven’t quite figured out yet who we’re supposed to reach out to when we try to start that conversation. Perhaps it would be more polite to send a request for approval before posting, with a brief explanation of why we believe our thoughts deserve to reach beyond our immediate circle of acquaintances.
I’m not claiming that every text I write is worth reading. Far from it. Nor do I think I deserve special attention just because I’ve written something. But there’s something comical about the fact that on a professional network—one that prides itself on connecting more than a billion people—you manage to attract an audience smaller than the one that gathers in front of the local bakery on a Saturday.
Perhaps, after all, we’ve misunderstood the meaning of the word “network.” We thought it served to connect people, but it seems to function very successfully as a fence as well. The only difference is that you can at least call out to your neighbors over the fence.
In any case, I’d like to thank everyone who happened to see my post this morning. It was an almost intimate literary gathering, without having to rent a hall, set up a sound system, or incur unnecessary expenses.
And if, by any chance, this post finds you, please be discreet.
I wouldn’t want the algorithm to think we’re organizing something without its approval.
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