LinkedIn is the teacher's pet Gen Z professionals just can't escape

If social media platforms were compared to high school students, LinkedIn would be the incessantly annoying teacher's pet. While Facebook repeated senior school twice and Snapchat ditched class to do hand stuff behind the cafeteria, LinkedIn sits in the front row with a notebook poised, obnoxiously eager to gloat about how quickly it finished last night's homework. "Look at me," it might quip midway through class, "I'm an act ahead in Othello, and you all thought Iago was just the parrot from Aladdin." 

This energy of LinkedIn as a perpetual do-gooder is apparent all over the platform, where users adopt the giddiness of a grade-A student to share humble career brags that are about as humble as the cast of The Real Housewives. From attending networking events to announcing new projects or congratulating oneself on a promotion, it's hard to perceive LinkedIn as anything other than a vehicle for apple polishing, a performative exercise for the world's teacher's pets, who go on to become employees of the month, year and decade.    

“It's hard to perceive LinkedIn as anything other than a vehicle for apple polishing, a performative exercise for the world's teacher's pets, who go on to become employees of the month, year and decade.”

Granted, the self-congratulatory nature of LinkedIn might align with those who are all too "thrilled to announce" they've hit their career stride (is anyone truly "thrilled" about a nine-to-five that doesn't include Dolly Parton?). But, for those of us between paychecks or jobs, hearing of someone else's promotion is akin to forgetting the due date of a school assignment. At the same time, LinkedIn — the digital incarnation of Hermione Granger — submitted it with two weeks to spare.

I've been a reluctant LinkedIn user since my early university days when one teacher tasked the class with building our debut profiles. Naturally — since this type of person has been a preordained fixture in classrooms ever since cavepeople started writing on stone tablets — there was one classmate who had already completed this task. We'll call her Hermione. 

In my imagination, Hermione is the type of classmate who simply materializes from stationery cupboards as a notebook-wielding apparition. She exists only in the context of a classroom and to inform fellow students of her successes. You see, Hermione had already built a LinkedIn profile weeks ago. She had even begun to "grow her network," which at the time sounded like something she should get tested for. 

As if summoned by some higher force, Hermione was compelled to notify the class of her foresight in already completing the task. She did so at a rate and volume that should've been reserved for more important matters, like the eye-watering prices at the university café or that hot guy in class who may or may not have been giving me eyes. 

After silently lamenting Hermione's not-so-silent brags, I soon found an ocean's worth of Hermiones on my newly activated LinkedIn. This Gold Star student was simply the prototype of a future Gold Star employee. I was immediately inundated with news of promotions, handed out like candy, and faced with career timelines that seemed to stretch back to infinity. 

“This Gold Star student was simply the prototype of a future Gold Star employee.”

Then there were the ridiculous job titles that read like Harry Potter spells, to the point where I wondered if chanting "Director of Vibes" three times would magically make a LinkedIn influencer appear. These workplace do-gooders flooded my page with a similar incessance as Hermoine's, and it was usually some guy named Jason from a firm called Finance Bro Incorporated (or something like that, they all sound the same). 

As a budding university student on the cusp of my career, I was suddenly thrust into this virtual deep end, facing an onslaught of other people's career achievements at a time when the closest I came to Employee of the Month was an unburned Margherita at my local pizzeria. 

According to Marcia Wall, a certified career coach I interviewed for this piece, this feeling has a name, and it is not Hermione-itis. "Career Comparison Syndrome happens when individuals consistently assess their professional achievements by comparing them to their peers," Marcia explains. 

It's the same feeling that I had in my university class all those years ago, and it has arisen again every time I log onto LinkedIn, a platform of endless comparison traps seemingly purpose-built to ensnare me. 

Marcia likens career comparison syndrome to a gardener who "spends more time looking over the fence [than] tending to their own plants." For me, it's more like that classmate who sits front row, brandishing their A+ paper for all the B and C-grade students to see. 

“It's more like that classmate who sits front row, brandishing their A+ paper for all the B and C-grade students to see. “

While it can emerge from anywhere, Marcia says career comparison is especially rife on LinkedIn, a network built around the public proclamation of career wins. "There's this constant pressure to post about [your] achievements," Marcia says. "If you're not into self-promotion, it's easy to feel like you're not measuring up to the LinkedIn influencers."

Granted, I am aware on some level that these posts are simply a highlight reel of one's profession, without mention of all the demotions, sick days or overdue tasks that define work life. It's this curation of only the shiniest achievements that creates LinkedIn's boastful energy, since "people who shout the loudest often have the least to say," Marcia explains. 

But even with this awareness, the comparison traps remain intact, impacting my perception of my own career and "result[ing] in feelings of inadequacy or discontent," Marcia says. This phenomenon is perhaps more pronounced among Gen Z, a cohort of digital natives often in the tumultuous early stages of their employment. 

Not quite having a solid footing in your career path, or indeed being unable to even envision one, is stressful enough, but a LinkedIn feed filled with other people's successes only amplifies the feeling of being left behind. 

“A LinkedIn feed filled with other people's successes only amplifies the feeling of being left behind..”

"Seeing older folks with fancy titles and a wealth of experience can make young adults feel like they are lightyears away from success," Marcia says. This impact of LinkedIn has been well-documented, both in academic studies on its effects on mental health and on social media pages dedicated to sifting through the so-called Crap On LinkedIn. 

While this overflow of what Marcia calls "vainglorious posts" plays some role in comparison syndrome, much of this career anxiety might also boil down to me. "Our careers represent not only our livelihoods but also our identities and aspirations," Marcia explains. 

"When we experience anxiety about our careers, we are reflecting broader insecurities about ourselves. Existential anxiety is at the heart of professional anxiety."

Indeed, my inability to share in others' milestones has as much to do with the uncertainty around my own future as it does with LinkedIn posts about the supposed 'keys to success.' This insecurity is only enhanced by creative and freelance industries like mine, where pathways are unclear, and the standard metrics of corporate success aren't always applicable.

This is not to say that LinkedIn should be totally avoided. While there are certain pitfalls, LinkedIn is a useful tool, not least because it's another avenue to stalk your recent Tinder date. According to Marcia, the platform allows great access to resources and opportunities for networking and career development and can, in this way, "help you level up and make smart moves." 

With this in mind, Marcia suggests approaching LinkedIn with a "curiosity and growth mindset." She advises limiting your use if it's resulting in toxic comparisons. Above all, it is essential to recentre the internal monologue around your own successes. "If you find yourself stuck in the comparison game, take a step back," Marcia says. 

"Focus on your own journey and celebrate your wins, no matter how small they seem. Remember that everyone's path is different [and] you're doing great, even if your profile doesn't look like everyone else's." It's with this knowledge that a new light is shone on Hermoine and the vanguard of LinkedIn influencers. 

While their behaviour may be irksome at times, they are more fluent in the language of LinkedIn than others. Carry with you the confidence of your inner Hermione, in the knowledge that her posts don't paint a full picture of all the work hurdles en route to a 'big break.' Maybe someday it will be you who is "all-too-thrilled" to announce a new career stride. 

After all, who among us hasn't befriended a teacher's pet in search of last week's trigonometry answers?