Dear LinkedIn,
Please leave me alone.
I know you miss me. I know I left you abruptly. But I’m 17, and I simply cannot keep up with you anymore.
I really did value us, I hope you know that. Can you believe I still remember my first connection request? It was from my dad’s college roommate, Gary, who works in IT and whose profile photo looks like it was taken in 2008. I accepted. I was very proud of myself for “successfully networking.”
I think we got more serious than I could handle. You told me I had to build AI skills to get ahead, you told me that there’s a productivity ceiling I can achieve through max flow if I keep my cortisol…up? Down? You never clarified.
I’m sorry that it ended this way. But the spam emails about B2B sales, connection requests from Strategic Growth and Vibe Coding Innovation interns, and constant reminders to beat randos at Zip are too much to handle.
And the notifications. It’s usually “someone viewed your profile.” Who? Why? My profile says I did one week of volunteer work at the library and that I’m “proficient in Microsoft Word.” There is nothing here worth viewing. Please tell them to stop.
You keep recommending me jobs I cannot legally hold. You send me connection requests from college students doing unpaid internships at startups with names like “NovaSpark Synergy Solutions,” and I never know whether to accept or ignore, so I just leave them sitting there, festering, and now I have 37 pending requests and I’ll never open that tab again.
I tried to make it work. I posted once: a photo from some event, with a caption about “leadership and global collaboration.” It got four likes. One was from Gary. One was from my mom, who I did not know had LinkedIn. I have not posted since.
Listen, I’m sure there’s people out there who adore your unwavering persistence and eerily corporate-joyful tone. To some, you’re probably a buddy, a guide, a place to find solace. Me, however? You terrify me.
It’s over. I’ll come back when I actually have something to put on my resume. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll email a PDF, like a normal person.
Please stop emailing me. I have homework.
Professionally yours,
A teenager with one endorsement (Microsoft Word, from Gary)
