Tuesday, September 22, 2015

My Stepfather Pronounces it Linka-DIN (*)

LinkedIn is like that friend with a pickup truck. You don't call them much, but when you have to move, suddenly you remember their number.

Worse ... maybe you kind of wish they wouldn't call YOU, either.

When I was worried about my job two years ago, I quietly updated my LinkedIn profile, reached out to a couple connections; managed to get an interview from one of them. That interview didn't pan out, but they called me back a couple months later - and here I am. (I met the woman who did get that first job, and she is made of solid OSUM gold, and no way should I have gotten that gig. I like mine best in any case.)

Every now and then, recruiters get frisky on LinkedIn, but that seems reasonable.

Over the last month or so, a salesman got silly and tried (a) to connect with me there and then (b) kept messaging me about "who is the right person to talk with about such-and-such" at my company. And (c) got himself DISconnected, because - ugh. No.

More recently, a restaurant reached out to me and at least two of the other Executive Admins at my employer, offering us free lunch. This sounds lovely - and I have it on excellent authority the purveyor sending these notes with connection invites makes great food - however, I work at a food distributor. And they are not clients.

How it looks to some folks when we bring in non-client food to our corporate HQ: not super.

So no free lunch for me, sad to say.

Every now and then I see the old "guess who's looking at your profile!" previews, and sigh quietly. Yes, Virginia, there ARE people I spent years losing touch with, and it was not easy.

Nobody really uses LinkedIn as a social network. It's a nicely distant quasi-tool to occasionally keep up with former coworkers, really. You can get their real contact info off 'em if need be, maybe send the odd bland "congrats" or holiday message or whatever.

Or you can let them know ... you might need that pickup truck. And maybe a spare pair of arms to carry a few boxes. And couches.

(*And I don't make fun of his way of reading the name. First time I ran across the website Plenty of Fish, I read it as Plenty Offish ... which strikes me as a hilarious name for a dating site.)


Donnaeve said...

That's cute - and it looks weird, but when I say it like you wrote it, I can hear the slight accent. (is it weird my brain feeds me a feebly, older mans' voice???)

Anyway, I wanted to comment b/c 1) you're so write about LinkedIn. I have a profile out there, and 99.9% of my contacts are my old Nortel co-workers/bosses. AND, I was just on it yesterday reaching out to a few folks who knew I was a writer. Actually, it became sort of widely known since I just so happened to sign with my agent in March 2012, and I left Nortel that same month.

Your encounters on LinkedIn are funny - but sound annoying too! Especially the sales guy. I have to say, it takes a certain personality to do that for a living. I sold key systems for a year when I was between jobs and I just don't have it. I can't "cold call" or talk the talk so someone wants to buy something. Most of my experiences selling those little phone systems made me feel like I was begging! (I might have been...it was a LONG time ago!)

DLM said...

Donna, I am the same - selling Girl Scout cookies as a kid damn near killed me. Whatever "it" it takes to be in sales, I do not have. I have confidence and even a dab of gumption, but not that!

As to my stepfather's voice, it is hard for me to think he sounds feeble, but almost certainly he does. More than anything it's his Virginian accent. He has his own way of saying the name of that one Italian restaurant that's been in business probably close to 50 years (it has nothing to do with the actual spelling), he has a special lilt and coil.

Not long ago, I was trying to hear my grandmother's voice in my mother's. But she sounded like nobody else; a sharp, fine-edged raspiness that merged exactly with her very particular energetic nature. It's funny, she was 'soft grandma' when I was small (and she less so) but her voice was one of wonderful clarity and power. My mom has her own clarity and power, her own idiosyncrasies I will miss horribly someday. But grandma was a voice all her own. I miss it.

Mo said...

Connections via whatever platform can be great when you need them (or just for the serendipity), but they come accompanied by at least a background hum of Link Din, which is pretty much how I say it.