The Syllabus Didn’t Mention Selling My Soul
It probably goes without saying, but I hate networking and schmoozing to get ahead. Unfortunately, that’s the system we’re in. These days, it’s often the main way to land a job—especially in this market.
LinkedIn? Easily my least favorite website. I logged on recently and was immediately bombarded with self-absorbed, performative networking posts: cardboard cutouts of professionalism, completely devoid of authenticity. It’s basically a platform where people brag about promotions and minor milestones like they’re receiving lifetime achievement awards. As if anyone but them cares.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve played the game too. I once made the most soul-sucking, unpaid internship of my life sound like the second coming of Christ.
It’s tempting—the quick hit of validation that your work defines you. But by the end of the day, it leaves me feeling empty.
No shade if you love LinkedIn. Really. I even checked myself before writing this to see if I was just projecting. And to be honest, maybe a little. It is hard sometimes watching former classmates rise quickly up the corporate ladder, especially when we’ve been taught that professional success is the holy grail of self-worth.
That said, one thing I’m crystal clear on: hustle culture is exhausting. I’m over it. The humblebrags, the "inspirational" rants, the “I’m so honored to announce” posts about a three-month certificate like it’s a Nobel Peace Prize—it's a lot.
And maybe it’s petty of me to roll my eyes at it. If it makes people feel good, then honestly? Good for them. Truly.
But for me? It just makes me want to delete the app and take up drinking again. (I’m kidding. Obviously. But you get where I’m coming from.)
In an effort not to call the kettle black—I do, in fact, have a LinkedIn. I, too, get caught up in that culture from time to time. Like my career experience won’t be legitimate if I don’t have one. I should probably update it, but I’d rather swallow glass, so I probably won’t.
In undergrad and business school, we had entire classes dedicated to networking. We even spent a whole day during orientation polishing our LinkedIn profiles. They treated it like they had equity in the platform—which, in their heads, they probably did.
I get it. Networking matters in a lot of industries. But some of the profiles I scroll past now? Old classmates and colleagues tout their titles like they’re starring in a workplace documentary. When in reality, it’s a glorified sweatshop with the ethics of a crypto bro’s third “totally legit” startup. But hey, who needs integrity when you’ve got a PR team and a sustainability buzzword? Congrats on the Senior Director role. Keep up the great work.
Networking and ass-kissing have long been considered the foundation of “success.” We’re taught early on to be polite and on our best behavior with everyone we meet—just in case. Every job I’ve ever had, I’ve genuinely felt lucky to have. And with that luck came a quiet, constant fear that I could be fired at any moment. I never once thought, they’re lucky to have me.
I felt the same way at networking events—like the biggest imposter in the room. Six years later, I can see it for what it was: stroking someone’s ego for a chance to land a role at a fiber optics company I couldn’t care less about.
Still, the idea that you have to network to get a job is so deeply ingrained in me. And the worst part? It’s kind of true. Unfortunately, that’s the game. And honestly, it feels less like a meritocracy and more like an old boys' club with better branding. Being the best candidate doesn’t always matter. You just need to know a guy—or bump into the right person over overpriced coffee.
I also have to admit that I’ve benefited from networking—or knowing a guy (or girl)—a few times. And it’s not lost on me that I’m speaking from a place of privilege to even be able to write about this. I just find the system fundamentally unfair. It feels like we’re doing ourselves—and future generations—a massive disservice by continuing to play along, missing out on real talent simply because they didn’t have the opportunity to rub elbows with the higher-ups.
So yeah, maybe I’m bitter. Maybe I woke up and chose violence. Or maybe I just spit out the Kool-Aid. Either way, I’m not updating my LinkedIn.
