Am I My LinkedIn Profile? Yes. No. Whatever.

 

I am looking at my LinkedIn profile. LinkedIn is the social network were a lot of professionals hang out. I don't like LinkedIn really. It's too … well … boring? Professional? I don't know. I just prefer Facebook.

Anyway. I am staring at my profile. It says that I am a "Project Shrink". What was I thinking?

Well.

At that time I was thinking that if people would read it, they at least would wonder, have a laugh or  would think they read something new. So they would remember.

Ok. Fair enough.

Of course I placed a thoughtful, almost pondering, profile picture next to it. And a list of past work and education. You know, just to reassure.

"He's a WHAT? Project Stink?"

"A "shrink". You know. Well, actually you don't know and I don't know. But he has been a Project Leader and he doesn't look too weird, so it should be ok."

And then the profile description. Oof.

Short descriptions of Self. Don't. Like. It.

Same as 10 second elevator pitches. I hate them. There. I said it. How can I summarize the awesomeness that is me in 20 words? I can’t.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I think it’s a good exercise to become more self-aware, it’s good to know yourself. But I know the entire context that goes with the summary. And that’s the trouble, others don’t.

For a while I had the word “social media” in my description. Now some people think that’s the only thing I know or do. Or worse, they already have made up their mind about what that label means and build their own context around my story.

Basically, I have an entire book of summaries. I have tons of elevator pitches.

So. Whatever I write in my profile summary, I'll never be happy with it.

Luckily I don't care about my LinkedIn profile.

Well. Ok. I do.

Remember the Thanksgiving Turkey? How signs, cues, language and rituals are used to associate you with social groups? And how our associations of someone determines our perception of that person? If we like them or not. Or how successful we communicate.

Remember?

Well. That stuff works online too. Same thing.

Online, the situation is not very different. Our LinkedIn profile has a picture, keywords describing what we do, associations with companies and professional organizations and badges of the LinkedIn groups you are a member of.

• Do you wear a suit on your picture? Or do you have an image of you going through the jungle?
• Is your name followed by a enormous string of credentials (MSc, PMP, LIVR)?
• Do you have a normal function description, like “Accountant”, or do you have one that sounds more deviant, like “Master Of My Universe”?

Expressing your identity like that is awesome for self-awareness. You have to have some clue when you write something down.

Or you can write that you don't have a clue. In which case, you actually have one. A clue.

And this expression of identity is a selection mechanism. A boundary.

People that dig your information will stay longer, while people that go "yuk" when reading "Project Shrink" are gone within 60 msecs.

Your LinkedIn profile is expressing what you are about, what you are thinking, it is almost like a publication of your own mental model. It makes it easier for the other party to understand you. It makes it easier to synchronize mental models.

A public declaration of your context, if you will. A highly limited, at times even disfunctional, declaration. That's for sure.

Now let's goof off at Facebook.

Bas de Baar is a writer who draws about people in transition. He loves to make visual maps and travel guides for the collaborators of our brave new world.