LinkedIn Premium Meltdown

Ah yes, the LinkedIn Premium meltdown post.

We’ve all seen it—or been it. Someone hits the end of their rope, posts something like, “I’ve been paying for LinkedIn Premium for six months and I still don’t have a job. I’m deleting my account,” and you can almost hear the sound of their cursor dramatically slamming the “Deactivate” button.

And look, I get it. LinkedIn Premium is like that gym membership you buy in January—full of hope and ambition. “This is the year! I’m going to get fit… professionally.” You see all those extra “Who viewed your profile” stats, the InMail credits, the “insights” on jobs, and think, Oh yes, the corporate ladder is mine.

Fast forward a few months and you’ve got:

• 112 profile views from recruiters in industries you’ve never worked in.

• Job “insights” telling you you’re in the bottom 10% of applicants because you don’t speak fluent Python or have 27 years of experience in a technology that’s been around for 8.

• InMail messages you sent three months ago still sitting in “Read” purgatory with no reply.

And you start wondering—what exactly am I paying for here? The privilege of being rejected in HD? The thrill of seeing that a hiring manager viewed my profile and then chose violence by ghosting me?

We treat LinkedIn Premium like a VIP pass to the job market, but it’s more like a backstage pass where you get to watch the band warm up, but security still won’t let you on stage. Sure, you can see the “full list of applicants,” but that just means you get to compare yourself to 847 strangers and spiral into self-doubt at 2 a.m.

Then there’s the job postings that proudly announce: Actively recruiting. You apply within the first hour. You’re feeling smug. And then three weeks later—nothing. Silence. LinkedIn Premium flashes that little “You’re a top applicant!” badge at you like a toxic ex sending mixed signals.

Eventually, the frustration builds. You start having philosophical debates with yourself in the shower. “Maybe it’s not me… maybe it’s capitalism.” You question whether job hunting is even supposed to work this way, or if we’re all just in a giant multiplayer game called Apply & Cry.

So when someone says, “I can’t take this anymore, I’m deleting my account,” I feel it in my soul. I picture them hovering over the delete button with the same intensity people use to break up over text—equal parts liberation and petty satisfaction.

But here’s the thing: deleting LinkedIn doesn’t actually delete the nonsense of the job market. Recruiters will still ghost. Job descriptions will still want “entry-level” candidates with 10 years of experience. And somewhere out there, a position you’re perfect for will still close without anyone bothering to tell you.

So maybe instead of deleting, we should reframe Premium for what it is—a fancy little window that lets you watch the circus from the front row. Sometimes you’ll see a real opportunity. Sometimes you’ll see a clown car crash in slow motion. And sometimes, you just log off and go live your life, because your worth isn’t tied to whether LinkedIn thinks you’re “in the top 10%.”

If you need to take a break, take it. Step away. Breathe. But when you come back, come back knowing this: no subscription—Premium, Gold, Platinum, or otherwise—can buy your value. The right job will find you because of your skills, your resilience, and the fact that you haven’t thrown your laptop out the window yet.

And hey—if nothing else, at least Premium taught us one valuable skill: how to get rejected faster, but with better analytics.