LinkedIn long ago devolved from being a useful platform for connecting with colleagues to a Facebook-lite mosh pit of self-aggrandizing, political posturing, and sharing way too much information. Not to say it doesn’t still have value, but you increasingly have to spelunk through the nonsense to find it.1
A case in point. Lately, LinkedIn has taken to trying to proactively develop thought leaders by posing questions they can respond to, in the process showcasing their devastating insights while undertaking a hefty whack of self promotion. That’s how this crackerjack query (“powered by AI and the LinkedIn community”) wafted across my screen: How do you stay authentic while delivering a motivational speech?
I’m not kidding.
I was tempted—very tempted—to post, “The fact this question has been answered by dozens of people offering tips and tricks for looking authentic reeks of … being inauthentic.” But since saying “just be yourself” presumably wasn’t good enough, the feed was indeed filled with earnest advice around having a certain kind of body language, connecting with the audience, conveying passion, and all manner of other techniques designed to manufacture a TED-talk-worthy facsimile of your actual self.
That’s the world we’re now in. It seems being yourself simply isn’t enough, whether you’re managing a career on LinkedIn, carefully curating an image on social media, or trawling dating apps. For a long time, at least for me, being myself wasn’t enough in relationships: I’d sand the rough edges and whittle my essential self until I was just what I thought the other person wanted.
What I wasn’t, of course, was me. And while I’ve noted the incessant pressure of modern society for more, more, more, I’ve paid less attention to something much more personal: the fact that we should each, individually, be enough. That’s not to say we shouldn’t strive to learn—especially from our mistakes. But one thing good managers recognize (and partners, for that matter) is improving someone’s weaknesses is a fool’s errand. It’s much more effective to harness the power of someone’s strengths and leave the weak spots to others.
Here’s an example. It’s not strictly true that I’m terrible at process—the reality is I don’t like process—but the functional result is the same: everyone’s happier if I avoid it. And my company has lots and lots of people who love process and geek out over creating a Gantt chart with a workflow and all sorts of Excel pivot tables. Huzzah! They can have it and I’ll crack on with the stuff they’re not so great at—like writing.
Lately, I’ve been thinking we may each be only truly exemplified by one thing. I confess this stems partly from my pet peeve of always seeing “top three priorities!”—by definition, you can only have one priority. One. But I think the broader thought still holds, and another part of LinkedIn demonstrates it pretty well.
A lot of LinkedIn—the good and the very, very obnoxious—revolves around the idea of branding. What’s your personal brand? How do you want the world to see you? For companies, of course, this is critical. And what’s interesting is that the most loved, admired, and supported companies are crystal clear about their brand.
“Brands need to think about what story they want to tell and what emotion they want people to feel,” Godfrey Dadich Partners’ head of strategy Danielle Bird wrote in the company’s Story is Everything newsletter. “Then they need to think, ‘Okay, what’s the smallest container I can do that in?’” For Bird, the crucial factor is “honing in on the things they do better than anyone else, which means leaving some stuff on the cutting room floor.”
“Sure, Nike sells apparel and sponsors sporting events and has a running app, but its foundation remains: authentic athletic achievement,” she wrote. “The Coca-Cola Company has other sodas in its stable, but the focus is still on making the world’s single-most iconic soft drink. The Walt Disney Company has its fingers in many pies, but driving all of it is a dedication to creating the sense that you are entering a magic kingdom every time you engage with the brand.”
I’m thinking the same goes for people, but not in a professional sense. Being renowned as a writer means you’ve developed a skill; it’s not who you are. But let’s say you’re inherently kind, and known by all for that. That will influence and suffuse every other element of your life, including your writing. The tricky part is the process of elimination Bird outlines to identify that core characteristic.
Three people I knew well died in the past two weeks: my friend Michael Yiannakis, the mother of one of my best friends, and a legendary veteran journalist I worked with at the start of my career. Could I distill each of them to a single core attribute? I think I could. Not to be morbid, but the question that works best is: what do I remember them for?
That brings me back to being authentic. I don’t want to—nor will I—be motivated by some clown reciting canned lines, faking empathy and engagement, and studiously maintaining eye contact while nodding theatrically and over-emoting. What I want is the real person. And if you’re not particularly naturally comfortable or adept at speaking in public, don’t. I mean it. Just don’t. There are plenty of amazing public speakers and, yes, they’ve honed their skills—of course they have. But they’ve done it from a position of strength, not insisting the only barrier to dunking when you’re four-foot-eleven is how hard you’re willing to work.
The world seems big enough and opportunity-rich enough for all of us to play to our strengths and find a successful lane. The problem is finding those opportunities. As I get more senior—both in terms of experience and age—I’m increasingly realizing just how transformative single actions can be. I’ve helped former colleagues find jobs, for example, both by referring them to others and hiring them directly. Wasn’t a big deal for me in terms of effort, but it was a huge deal for them.
What we need is an app or something—let’s trademark it “Forward,” as in “paying it forward”—that connects people leaning into their strengths with those needing them. Here’s my pitch: I love storytelling, both visually and in text. Any brands out there looking to elevate how they use the power of narrative to connect with customers? On Forward, someone with that opportunity would connect, and I’d be off to the races—ready to return the favor to someone else.
I fully admit it sounds a little like a dating app for professionals (oh, the irony). But there’s got to be mileage in a more structured way to connect the plethora of successful professionals who, with a single decision, can literally change the trajectory of someone’s life.2 One quick warning: there’ll be a vetting process. And I reckon we’ll be able to pretty quickly identify people who are authentic from those who have been hanging out on LinkedIn, learning how to act authentically.
It’s ancient now, but my favorite LinkedIn meme remains the spoof post where someone is “honored and thrilled to announce that I have been selected among the top five applicants who participated in the professional and most-respected exam which evaluates the skills and ability to operate fuel-based vehicles. I cannot wait to see what the next chapter holds, and I cannot express my appreciation to the Ministry of Transportation, Wendy’s, Google, NASA, and my neighbors who supported me during this difficult journey.”
Translation: they got a driver’s license.
I think there’s also mileage in a similar app that connects employers willing to take a chance on people looking to change career paths. Someone’s probably already all over my harebrained ideas, but a guy’s gotta dream … and ignorance is bliss.
A note about whatever this is …
After writing a few thousand articles for newspapers and magazines, I spent a long time trying a bunch of other stuff. I guess I figured what came (relatively) easily must by definition be less valuable, so I wandered in the corporate wilderness, becoming increasingly frustrated and doing work that felt increasingly lousy.
Sometimes with age comes wisdom, and I’ve realized finding something (relatively) easy ain’t a bad thing. So, this is a space where I’m resurrecting writing for myself, on topics weird and wild and wonderful.
Posts will appear when the mood takes me, but I do try to be consistently inconsistent—sometimes it’ll be a couple of days between drinks; sometimes a week. But if you subscribe, you’ll get a email letting you know I’m ranting. Again.