
Hi, you don’t know me: Confessions of an online networking rookie
I found my dream job. My dog got cancer. I got fired.
But let’s not begin at the beginning.
I have 315 connections on LinkedIn. And I don’t know most of them. I actually have no literal connection to many of them. They live in Australia, D.C., Florida, Brunei, Germany, Vancouver, Finland, Mexico, Illinois, the Netherlands, Delhi, Austin.
I thought this was fine until I learned recently about LIONs (LinkedIn open networkers), who apparently comprise either blatant “cold-call” marketers or people who naively send annoying connection requests willy-nilly with no respect for LinkedIn protocol. I believe I fall in the latter category.
I recently received this polite message from someone to whom I sent a LinkedIn connection request:
“Hello, Kristine: I have responded to your request to connect on LinkedIn. Tell me a little about your interests to help me understand why you have reached out to me. I would like to be polite & friendly, but shy away from online meet ’n’ greets.”
I haven’t answered yet.
If I respond honestly, here’s what I may say:
“Dear New Connection Whom I Don’t Know and To Whom I Have No Literal Connection: I sent you a connection request after seeing your comment on an article. You seem like an interesting and thoughtful person. I like the idea of having you in my network. And I also want to have 500+ connections. I’m a LinkedIn rookie who recently checked out LinkedIn for Dummies from the public library, but I haven’t read it, so I don’t know the significance of having a lot of connections. However, it seems important. What I’m saying, Dear New Unknown Connection (NUC), is that I have no idea what LinkedIn is all about. I’m just feeling my way as I go.”
Another response to my NUC might be this:
“I saw that you’re a PhD and a professional pet bereavement counselor. I thought, ‘Wow, this is someone I would like to know. In theory.’”
As I mulled over possible answers to my NUC, it hit me that my connection request to her might be a veiled cry for help. After all, she is a pet loss and bereavement counselor.
Here’s the backstory: I found my dream job. My dog got cancer and it’s terminal. I also got fired.
In January 2018, I started a “dream job.” Shortly before I was hired, my 4-year-old German shepherd went through a leg amputation to try to prevent the spread of cancer. However, it already had reached his lymph nodes. My vet referred me to a veterinary hospital five hours away, the nearest facility with treatment that not only might halt my dog’s cancer, but potentially could save his life.
I had been at my dream job for just two months when I went to my animal-loving supervisor to ask for time off to take my dog for the treatments. I needed three or four days off (one day at a time) over a period of six weeks. I would make up the missed hours immediately by working additional hours each week I took a day off, in line with our company’s flex time policies.
My supervisor’s response: [Paraphrased] “You’ve been here only two months, you’re still a probationary employee, you don’t have any leave balance, can’t you see the vet on a weekend?” Most peculiar to me was her indication that taking this time off might lead to the END of my career with the company.
I was stunned. I came to job with more than 20 years of professional experience and education. I had hit the ground running from day one, and already had proven my abilities and dedication. I also had noticed another brand-new employee taking time off for a vacation and family emergencies. It seemed that “local policies” weren’t being equally applied.
My morale took a body blow and never recovered. My supervisor’s response also proved to be the first instance in a pattern of uncongenial and reactionary management. Just two months after being hired, I started looking for another job.
I took my dog for one visit to the research clinic, and learned that his cancer already had spread too far for him to benefit from the proposed treatment. The vet suggested another treatment that might extend his life but not save it.
Even then, I didn’t realize how bad his situation was until I got the case summary in the mail. Buried on the second page are these words: “Melanoma is a very aggressive cancer in dogs … In Buddy’s case, a survival time of about 3 months is predicted with [chemotherapy]. Without any further treatment his survival time decreases to 1 month.”
One month. To live.
Perhaps mercifully, my dream job died and my dog did not.
I had survived six months in a job that was both incredibly stressful and incredibly rewarding. I had learned, contributed, and grown as an employee. Then, instead of a 6-month evaluation, I got a termination letter.
My dog is still alive, running around happily on three legs, and being as noble yet playful as a German shepherd can be. He has undergone no additional treatment and has outlived the vet’s grim prognosis by four months.
I continue to look for a new job — a real job, not a dream.
So my message to my New Unknown Connection (NUC) and my 314 other connections on LinkedIn is this:
Not all LIONs are scamming you or selling something. Some of us are just finding our way. And whether connected or not, we need you. We need to know we’re not speaking into a void. We need to see that someone out there is absolutely crushing it in her career.
It also helps to see that there are many who are seeking employment, struggling, making themselves vulnerable, asking for job leads and suggestions.
LinkedIn is, after all, one of the world’s greatest online forums of both success and failure. And we are all learning as we go.
About the writer: I am a (recovering) perfectionist, writer, library technician, paralegal, and administrative assistant with Microsoft Office Specialist certification in Word and Excel (woo-hoo!). I am searching for a full-time position in technical writing, document control, case management, library technical services, and/or high-level administrative support. Yes, it’s a broad spectrum. But I’m a live and flipping fish in a little pond, AKA the Swiss Army knife of [fill in the blank]…
