Long before I retired, I created an account on LinkedIn. It seemed like a good idea—you never know when you’ll need contacts to look for a new job. Still, I refused to play the numbers game. The people I linked with, by and large, were people I had worked with and respected. This was intentional.

I’ve always believed you’re known by the company you keep, and if my contacts included a bunch of losers, that impression would inevitably rub off on me. No thanks.

As my career advanced, so did the number of people wanting to connect with me. Most of them were former colleagues I liked and respected, but plenty were recruiters, salespeople, and social climbers just trying to pad their own contact lists. Not wanting to clutter my network with people I didn’t actually know, I ignored them all.

When I retired, I updated my status and debated leaving LinkedIn altogether. After all, I’m not job hunting, and surely nobody would see much advantage in connecting with me now. Still, I enjoy keeping up with my former colleagues, especially when they land promotions. That’s the part that makes LinkedIn worthwhile.

What I didn’t anticipate was that my career—retired, successful engineer, manager, and even a director for a few years—would make me prime bait for money managers, investment “gurus,” and franchise salesmen. Sure, retirement doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to make more money, but I certainly don’t need a horde of strangers telling me how to spend it. Yet another pile of connection requests to ignore.

And then there’s LinkedIn’s so-called “recommendations.” I don’t know what kind of sponsorships are at play here, but for some reason, LinkedIn keeps pushing Vivek Ramaswamy on me. I wouldn’t follow Vivek out of a burning building, but LinkedIn gives me no way to say, “Hey, stop shoving this in my face.”

Then there are the endless connection suggestions. With very few exceptions, my network is full of competent professionals. If I’m not connected with someone I used to work with, there’s probably a very good reason. I get that LinkedIn is all about making connections, but if I ignore the same recommendation four times, maybe—just maybe—it’s time to take the hint.

Right now, LinkedIn keeps suggesting I connect with someone I considered utterly incompetent. The day my company went through a re-org—terminating my supervisor while somehow keeping this person—I knew it was time to retire. (To no one’s surprise, they were cut in the next round of layoffs a month later.)

And yet, at least once a month, LinkedIn sends me an email suggesting I connect with them. Every time I see that name pop up, it dredges up frustration and resentment—not exactly the kind of nostalgia I’m looking for. And then today, out of the blue, I got a message from a recruiter at L3Harris, telling me I’m exactly what he’s looking for and asking for my resume. Maybe he missed the “retired” part, or maybe he just wants my resume to train his AI. Either way, straight to the ignore pile.

Could I leave LinkedIn? Of course. But I use it to maintain a light connection with former colleagues, and that still holds value. I like seeing people move forward in their careers, land exciting jobs, get certifications, or share important moments in their lives. That, to me, is the real reason to stick around. In today’s world, staying in touch matters—you never know when someone might need encouragement, advice, or a helpful connection.

So, as annoying as it is, LinkedIn stays.

But what about other social platforms?

Facebook? Nope, never have, never will. I watch my wife deal with friending and unfriending, ad feeds that never end, and bots running rampant. Hard pass. Instagram and TikTok? Honestly, I get the sense I’m just too old to see the appeal. I tried Twitter, but I bailed when the sponsored posts outnumbered the actual content I cared about. The transition to X has only made that worse.

I use BlueSky and Discord to stay in the loop. BlueSky gives me a steady stream of politics, science, and technology. Of course, like everywhere else, there’s no shortage of misinformation and half-truths from all sides of the spectrum. But at least it serves as a fact-checking tool—especially since our local news agencies have basically given up on journalism and now just regurgitate X posts as news. I honestly wonder if some of these reporters even know what a bot is.

Nice looking fellow

Discord lets me get deep with the actual innovators of technology.

And when the U.S. news cycle gets too bleak, I take refuge in the BlueSky reptile feed. These days, I find myself spending a lot of time there.

bsalt127.bsky.social

© 2025, Byron Seastrunk. All rights reserved.