Reading between the lines: Navigating emotions on LinkedIn (without the use of emojis)

As a single mum who works a demanding, full time corporate job, I feel that I am qualified to comment on how to navigate the emotional landscape of the wonderful platform that is LinkedIn.
How is that so, I hear you ask? Well, as any person (yes, there are single dads doing it too) in my position would know:
First, I am perpetually tired, so my ‘game’ pre-child versus my ‘game’ post-child is dramatically different.
Sometimes I don’t know how I do the job I do with the wonderful people I do it with. It’s a mystery.
Second, I’m a heart-on-my-sleeve kinda person. As a creative in a former life, I’m all about the emotion. True, you never stop being a creative, but for the sakes of this article and my point, I quickly realised that in the corporate world, there are times when those skill sets aren’t appreciated/appropriate/understood. So, there are days where I don the mask (and days where I throw all caution, mask and my hands, to the wind…those days are…well, let’s call them “interesting”).
Lately, I have noticed more emotions being elicited between the lines, and straight up on the lines, on LI. People are starting to react instead of respond; poise is being substituted with instant responses as people and their thumbs try to one up each other in a game of verbal thumbsies. I’ve even seen the word “dick” make the rounds, (which I must admit was extremely entertaining).
People are commenting that LinkedIn is the new Facebook, only for professionals (whatever THAT means…dare I reference the phenomenon that is Trump on Twitter? Policy at an all-time high! *insert sarcasm here*)
I’m not advocating that LI become as stiff and starchy as your 80's corporate shirt, but the emergent LI dialect may be a surprise to the newbie who seeks to earnestly share their opinions and views in a community-of-practice type way.
So, what do you do when a ‘professional’ calls you a wanker; when someone challenges you in a way that they most likely would never do to your face; when emotive words are used to illicit a dramatic and tense response (you are immature/stupid/have no idea)?
Last month, I commented on a post by a popular LI’er. The post was about employers recognising skills of potential hires beyond those on their CV in their current job. As someone who has 5 degrees and has been through several re-iterations of what we like to call a ‘career’, I felt this post was my jam! Enthusiastically, I shared that my current employer hired me because of my music skills. It actually hasn’t been the first time I have been hired in a different industry for a previous, unrelated skill set.
However, it wasn’t long until somebody posted that I was a “loser” and he sees losers all around him and he’s going to squash them all and blah blah blah yada yada yada (I actually can’t remember the exact words, but you get the sentiment).
I felt the blood rush to my face. I looked at this person’s profile. Marketing. India. Smarmy profile picture. I could already feel my judgey-mcjudge pants being put on as I got ready to go full keyboard warrior.
Wait. Waiiiiiit a minute. I know! I won’t get angry, even though the hot-headed feeling and mayhaps new swear words escaping my mouth indicated I was clearly raging. So I typed, “Good for you! Good luck with that”. (Insert eye-roll emoji here)
Beneficial? No. Contributory to the conversation? Hardly. Just as smarmy and emotional as the original poster? Definitely.
Something happens when we tap into the matrix, glued to the screen, the blue light trapping us like hopeless intellectual fire flies, unable to look away, not to mention reconnect with our minds, bodies and souls. It actually makes me feel physically sick if I spend too much time looking at blue light.
How can we possibly be at the top of our human game if we are so captive? We can’t. We don’t think. We don’t feel. We just do. We do words. Tapped out by thumbs. And sometimes we trap ourselves into thinking that we are right. All of the time. And those quick thumb taps become words that become us.
But they are not us.
So the next time you feel compelled to react/reply/respond, notice your flags, and step away from the blue light disco. Take a breather, and come back as you. Because I am certain that who you are, versus who your thumbs think you are, are two very different people.
