The Linkedin Cringe..
When you have to swallow your own vomit when you get on linkedin..
"I was rejected by 35 companies. I slept in my car. I survived on instant noodles. But today, I closed a $2M deal, bought my mom a house, and just got promoted to Global VP of Synergy. Believe in yourself."
I remember reading that post. I wish I could say it was satire. But nope. It had 27,000 likes.
That was the day I realised something was deeply wrong with LinkedIn.
How I Got Sucked Into the Cringe Spiral
Like many of you, I joined LinkedIn with good intentions — to connect, to grow, to be inspired. But what I got instead was a feed full of fabricated redemption arcs and shameless self-promotion dressed up as 'authenticity.'
It started slowly. A few posts here and there. Overly dramatic, sure, but harmless. Then came the flood. Post after post, all following the same strange, manipulative rhythm:
“I failed. I suffered. Now I’m a millionaire.”
And I couldn’t look away.
The Characters in the Cringe Parade
You know the ones. The 'humble hero' who started with nothing and now wants to sell you a course. The 'inspirational leader' who seems to meet a new metaphorical janitor every week. The startup bro who had an emotional breakdown in a coffee shop and suddenly found product-market fit.
I started keeping track. Not because I wanted to mock them (okay, maybe a little), but because I couldn’t believe how predictable it all was.
The Anatomy of a LinkedIn Cringe Post — Through My Eyes
Fake Suffering: Always some vague adversity. Fired, dumped, bankrupt. Tears involved. Always tears.
Magical Mindset Shift: No real explanation. Just... mindset. That magical, invisible elixir.
Sudden Success: Now they make 7 figures, have a 12-pack, and meditate on a yacht.
Call to Action: “Believe in yourself.” “Tag someone who needs to hear this.”
Hashtags: So many hashtags. #Leadership #Resilience #MindsetMatters #CoffeeShopEnlightenment
I started seeing the pattern everywhere. And once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
The Posts That Broke Me
Let me share a few I’ll never forget:
"An intern spilled coffee on me. I said, 'It’s okay, mistakes help us grow.' She cried. The team applauded." — I nearly choked on my actual coffee.
"I chose a high school dropout over a Harvard grad. Today, she’s my CEO." — No names, no company, no truth.
"A homeless man once said, 'Success is a mindset.' That’s when I built my startup." — Are you serious?
"My toddler looked at me and said, 'Daddy, are you proud of yourself?' That’s when I knew I had to invest in crypto." — I want to meet this child philosopher.
I don’t know if I laughed or cried harder. Maybe both.
The Cringe Isn’t Random. It’s Engineered.
This isn’t just poor storytelling — it’s strategy. They know how to play the algorithm. They’re in engagement pods, posting daily, commenting on each other’s stuff with 🔥 emojis and “So proud of you!”
They’re not trying to help. They’re farming dopamine. For likes. For follows. For sales.
And it works.
I Almost Fell For It Too
There was a week — I’m not proud of it — when I drafted my own cringe post. I was tempted. I wanted the validation. I wanted the likes.
But I couldn’t hit publish. Because I knew I hadn’t earned it.
I wasn’t some underdog turned mogul. I was just trying to figure things out like everyone else.
And that, it turns out, is the real story.
To the Real Ones: You’re Not Alone
A true story of my last post 9 years ago when i ran Qraved!
If you’ve ever doubted yourself because you weren’t “hustling hard enough,” stop. You’re not lazy — you’re just not delusional.
We need fewer storytellers and more professionals. Fewer fake breakdowns and more real talk.
Fellow followers, It’s Time for an Intervention
Stop the performative nonsense. Stop the ghostwritten trauma. Stop trying to turn every coffee spill into a TED Talk.
Give us quiet wins. Give us awkward first attempts. Give us nuance, not noise.
Because I’d rather read about someone’s honest rejection than another toddler-inspired tech pivot.
Just Don’t be Cringing.
So next time you scroll past a post that reeks of made-up hardship and algorithm-chasing inspiration, do yourself a favour:
Keep scrolling.
Or better yet, unfollow.
Because the truth doesn’t need hashtags.
And in a world of fakes, telling the truth — even when it’s boring — might be the bravest thing you can do.
RV
So follow me on linkedin maybe? Jokes! Give a shoutout to the greatest marketing team on Substack -
, Sufi and Ary!
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