This week, I found myself turfed off LinkedIn, a platform I love and hate in equal measure. I sail close to the wind daily on there as it is a veritable nest of Tories and Gammon. And instead of scrolling and ignoring, I decide to engage in verbal spars with types who annoy me.
There are certain aspects that push me into Hulk mode on there – deifying Johnson is one, ignoring the disaster of Brexit is a second and a third is people telling others and me what they can and cannot post on there.
I found then after locking horns with someone this week, I was logged out and could no longer log in.
Tough shit, you may say, LinkedIn is awful anyway as a Facebook friend, Jason, commented. Yet to me, managing other profiles, company pages, I regret my actions.
Purely on a friendship and commerce level, I enjoy LinkedIn, the connections I’ve made and the business relationships I’ve forged. Being banned – I don’t know how long for, but I read a week – feels like losing my iPhone 12 Pro Max in the river Waveney but worse. It’s left me without a voice and presence on a platform that delivers time and time again for me – with digital marketing, copywriting and web design.
More fool you, you may say, as my wife did and, to be frank not Stuart, you’re right.
My passive aggression, or outright aggression on there, has been noted and regrettably I’ve been asked to leave the LinkedIn building.
The salient point though is that I “act” as many other people on LinkedIn and my posts and interactions are always professional, relevant and polite. But, as me, control impulses go, because no one is going to call me in “for a minute” on Monday from Get Pro Copy management and bollock me. It would be self-flagellation as I am the boss.
And yet.
I’ve taken liberties on a platform I should respect. And someone high up, some robotic algorithm perhaps, has called me for a minute and bollocked me, as well as asking me to clear my LinkedIn desk.
If and when I’m allowed to return, dripping with contrition, I promise Jeff Weiner to be less contentious, stick to business and follow the rules of engagement.
In other words, I’ll eat vanilla ice cream, whilst wearing beige slacks.
If I see gammon or people dictating rules, I’ll raise an eyebrow, frown slightly and, like Dionne Warwick, walk on by.
Let me back and see the changed man I promise to become.
