Isn’t it time someone said the emperor has no clothes?
1 I hate that someone in LinkedIn decides that I have an anniversary and then tells people to spam me with wishes. I became unemployed one year ago, and began freelancing as a consultant. Things have not been very good, and I am certainly not in a celebratory mood. But all week I have been getting exuberant letters from total strangers on the anniversary of my losing a steady income. As if they even care. Even if I got my first job a year ago, it is not up to LinkedIn to decide it’s time to congratulate me — it might be a lousy, back-breaking sucky job with a godawful pay and a monster boss.
2 I hate being endorsed for skills by strangers who know nothing about me — and probably could not care less. LinkedIn tells my casual acquaintances that I’m a genius at such-and-such and they happily click ‘Endorse’, mostly, I suspect, to get rid of the window. Like the otherwise wonderful Dr Loth, a senior veterinary officer, swears I am a great journalist, almost like he knew me 30 years ago instead of merely the last five. John Naughton, another LinkedIn member like me, called this a “fatuous wheeze” and a cheap attempt by LinkedIn to get more page visits.
3 I hate that their desktop version doesn’t have a clue what I do on the mobile version. I accept connection requests and reply to letters on my iPhone — but later have to repeat all that on my desktop, because a yes is not a yes for LinkedIn until you’ve done it on all your devices. That tells me there’s a lazy software programmer in the woodwork, who could not be bothered to work on the small details of the interface.
4 I hate that the badge count doesn’t go away even after you’ve dealt with the notification. I read a letter, or reply to it, or see a notice — and it will show that big red Unread badge.
5 I hate that their home page is so cluttered, clunky, verbose, and inelegant. In the age of responsive design where less is more, and big pictures and clutter-free layout spells superior communication, there is no excuse for a big fat super-rich corporation like LinkedIn not to hire the best designers and coders and provide an outstanding user experience.
6 I hate that they relentlessly pop boxes at me asking for me to bring my Gmail friends into LinkedIn. I am already swamped by connection requests from accountants and real-estate brokers and people who I have zero in common except that we’re ‘professional’ (read working somewhere). I’ve said no to adding my contacts a hundred times, but LinkedIn believes that if they just bug the hell out of me long enough, I will cave. Wrong! What will happen instead is that I will quit LinkedIn for being such a thoughtless pest. Because —
7 I hate that I have not received one useful thing back from LinkedIn in all my time as a member, yea, even unto Premium membership. Not a job, not a heartfelt recommendation that made a professional difference, or a post that made me think. And 9 out of 10 LinkedIn members I’ve spoken to say the same thing. Fake endorsements and insincere congratulations, and daily lists of who viewed me because it was lunchtime and they had nothing better to do than futz. Look, Ma, I’m popular! They love me!
8 I hate that my blog posts start with a mess of naked HTML code when I post them on LinkedIn. I wrote to LinkedIn but they were having an afternoon nap. I Googled it and learnt that there is some way to clean up the mess, only you need to know HTML and follow several specific steps. Why should looking good in LinkedIn require complex maneuvers that other media don’t?
9 I hate that they have such swank offices, when the service they provide is so shabby and inattentive to details. With such big headquarters, and reclining chairs and color coordinated canteen seating, and adjustable sit-stand desks, and all that jazz, I’d want more than the applause of strangers. Wouldn’t you?