Once upon a time, LinkedIn was just a dull, functional corner of the internet. A place where people posted new jobs, endorsed each other’s “leadership skills,” and pretended to be excited about promotions they mostly took to escape a bad boss. But like everything online, it couldn’t just stay normal. It had to escalate. It had to evolve into something bigger, stranger, and infinitely more self-congratulatory. And now? Now it’s the internet’s most deranged stage play, starring a cast of self-styled visionaries who believe that normal human experiences—ordering coffee, missing a flight, forgetting their wife’s birthday—are all TED Talks waiting to happen.
These people don’t post. They pronounce. Every minor inconvenience is a parable about grit, every “difficult decision” is a masterclass in disruption, and every LinkedIn poll is one bad day away from asking if oxygen is really necessary. Humility is for the weak. The hustle is eternal. And every act of corporate ruthlessness is wrapped in a heartwarming anecdote about their dear friend, the janitor who inspired their billion-dollar IPO.
Welcome to LinkedInLunatics, where thought leadership has lost all thoughts, professionalism is a branding exercise, and the only thing more painful than these posts is the knowledge that someone, somewhere, is reading them and taking notes.
