Who among us doesn’t use lists? Post-It Notes, notes apps on our smartphones, whiteboards, scrawling on palms in desperation … the beckon call of bullets wraps us up daily and keeps us from devolving into rudderless oafs.

Usually my lists are pretty mundane – Home Depot, Costco, fix X and Y in my house on Saturday morning, mail birthday card – all the things. But today, I thought I’d dig up a deeper list, one that I’m sure I’ll revisit as I get older and undoubtedly crankier. Simple truths that 15-years-ago me (pre-marriage, pre-girl dad) would not know how to speak, let alone type.

So let’s get ‘em down so I can come back in another 15 years, agape at my youthful indulgences. I’ll see what I can do about updating this list on a semi-regular basis, but you know how that goes.

Here are my 15 simple truths:

1. I’ve finally embraced my inner introvert. Weekend late nights devouring audiobooks, productivity pods or belly-laughing through a few chapters of David Sedaris fills my nerd tank with higher-octane fuel than a night on the town. Come to think of it, writing things like this does, too.
2. Now I’m no curmudgeon. Said nights on town, in measured doses and with the right friends, are calendar-noted occasions. And on those occasions, I’ve come to believe alcohol isn’t worth the buzz or the rip-roaring headache the next morning. Mocktails and near-beers, your glory days are here!
3. Curling up with my 12-year-old daughter on the couch for a movie is a feeling like no other. Even as she’s officially entered tweendom, she loves lazy bonding time with Mom and Dad. Yet I know our times doing this are numbered.
4. I don’t like crowds and no longer feel the need to seek them out. While I relished the young professionals circuit in the early aughts, my happy place is much different now … although the grainy JPGs from my Sony CyberShot at Gators Dockside in 2001 when I ran a young alumni outpost for the UF Alumni Association still make me laugh.
5. Life is short(er now). I want to make memories, not pursue trophies or random trappings of status that builds up in desk drawers, closets and eventually high-rent climate-controlled storage units. It all needs to be dusted, and just the thought of that is overwhelming … and probably about to make me sneeze.
6. I drive my wife’s 2012 Honda CRV with 187K miles. And a 4-banger that goes 0 to 60 in 3 minutes. It’s paid off, and that “car payment” goes to my daughter’s college fund. A much better investment than some hot wheels to impress someone I probably wouldn’t like anyway.
7. We all need a reality check when it comes to social media and scrolling. The opportunity cost of watching short-form videos peppered with pitches for tech wallets and razor subscriptions is unfathomable. Jonathan Haidt’s 2024 book “The Anxious Generation” is a must-read for any parent, anxious about their child’s predilection to screens. I say this while wholly recognizing that these platforms constitute a critical component of my industry and livelihood. Our role as comms leaders is to find the middle ground and be forces for good online.
8. Leverage your tax dollars and participate in your local library. Get a card and listen to audiobooks on Libby. Donate when you can for those who can’t.
9. I don’t feel guilty telling people I’d rather text than talk on the phone. I even ask for texts on my work out-of-office autoreply. It’s my love language.
10. I’m too old to wait in line. A little forethought – online, prepaid ordering and scheduled appointments for the DMV or Genius Bar – gets you out of a lot of queues. Spontaneity is fun … in measured doses … but as a practical, transactional life philosophy it’s overrated. And when I’m in a line, I inevitably whip out my phone.
11. I’m 45 pounds heavier now than on my wedding night. As every day goes by, I’m a little less perturbed at the prospect that these errant pounds will stay with me forever.
12. No. 11 notwithstanding, I am embracing 5 a.m. wake-up calls again, early gym visits, meditation, journaling and simple silence. I want to be physically, emotionally and spiritually healthy, whether or not I can track it on my Apple Watch.
13. I want to live to 100 … 110 years old. Why not? As long as some of my friends join me. Otherwise, it might be lonely up there, and I might have to go into a crowd or two to meet some new friends. Maybe there’ll be a new app to help me with that.
14. I love the 34 years I had before I met my wife and I love the 17 years I’ve had since I met my wife. For vastly different yet wholly valid and fulfilling reasons.
15. Dry saunas are the perfect antidote to Florida summers. Ten minutes at 190 degrees makes at 90 degrees feel like a welcome breeze … without the drenching weight of humidity.

In May, my LinkedIn account was legally allowed to drink. Aside the short-lived (but newly resurgent) Friendster, it was the first social network I joined in those innocent, social-curious aughts.

These days, just as in 2005, LinkedIn provides a tangible benefit: broadcasting my professional identity and value to millions of colleagues and companies and giving me a platform to share and learn. Conversely, the Meta companies and Twitter (I refuse to call it anything else) trade in extraction. Bluesky and Mastodon mean well, but the critical mass isn’t there. And TikTok’s no better than a brain-eating amoeba.

In all the above situations, we are the product. Despite that, and the fact that I pay a little into it, LinkedIn is the only social app on my iPhone.

But lately, LinkedIn has gotten noisier, and not in a “great concert” sort of way. More like a screeching garbage truck:

AI slop is pervasive – post text/graphics and ads are most apparent. Personal branding performance art is tiring, in posts and comments. Industry-specific, jargon-laden posts produce record-breaking yawns.
Partisan political rants and preferences are on full, unabashed display. More formatting than content, the in-your-face, non-captioned vertical videos I expect on Instagram snuck in some months ago, too, validating my choice of silent mode.

So a typical LinkedIn meal has become less a trip to Whole Foods, and more a visit to the chips endcap at Wawa: cheaper and empty calories.

LinkedIn says it recognizes this, and in fact has declared war on AI slop. An acknowledgement is promising, but it only addresses one of the most obvious noise generators that limits the quality of the platform.

For many years, and long before AI’s coming-out party in 2022, LinkedIn felt very much like a walled garden separating the social misfits spewing politics, religion, and rage bait from relative decorum and good behavior. Whether you paid for Premium or rode a free feed, the difference was palpable, welcomed by job seekers and others who came for high-minded, professional discourse.

These days, it seems those AI bots and very human ne’er-do-wells have joined forces on the platform … for what end? To sell you a book or webinar? To shove you into a funnel? To worship false political idols? To stay relevant to an algorithm?

If I was not job-curious these days, I would seriously contemplate putting LinkedIn in time out. Off the home screen. Out of the bookmarks. In attention jail, just like the other social apps (see paragraph 2).

For my specific use case, I’m spending more time with alternatives that are helping me surface real career opportunities and human connections without the garish distractions. Here’s what I’ve come up with so far, and I’ll continue adding to this list as I find the good ones:

• Rhize is a Slack-based online community of job seekers supporting each other through chat groups, workshops and other networking resources.
• Never Search Alone is a book-based “job search system” espousing small peer support through Job Search Councils.
• Membership-based professional associations often offer their members a hybrid experience, with an online job board and IRL networking opps. My main association, the Public Relations Society of America, has a strong Job Center with the ability to set up email alerts. I pair that with PRSA’s strong set of online forums, virtual meetings and webinars, and IRL mixers to provide that sense of community I need.

Back to you, LinkedIn account. It’s wonderful you held out this long before taking your first drink, but it’s time to call you an Uber … you’ve had a few too many.

Sober up soon … we’ve got work to do.

If you’re a LinkedIn frequenter, or a Premium member with some material investment in the platform, what’s your experience been like lately? What can LinkedIn, or its members, do to improve the experience? What do you expect from LinkedIn?

Jay Magee, APR, is a communications and marketing leader who helps enterprises strengthen brand trust, grow digital engagement, and move stakeholders to action. Learn more about him and his work at jaymagee.com.

(Stone-faced daytime infomercial gaze here) Have you looked into a micro-retirement?

Thanks, Gen Z. Love, a youngish Gen Xer.

A micro-retirement is the new term for a career pause not unlike a sabbatical — an extended period of time away from work for self-discovery, to recover from burnout, or to chase some other personal goal.

Whatever the nature, impetus or timeline for your job search, we job seekers could apply some lessons from micro-retirements to our situations.

Now, I’m not trying to frame what’s often an involuntary job search in the same context as a voluntary journey of self-discovery. Often, we’re working against the clock to find a new income source and benefits to power our lives and families.

But full-time, hard-core job searches can lead to burnout, just as any full-time, hard-core knowledge work job can … and often does if not mindfully managed. That’s where we can find lessons from the micro-retiring.

Even when micro-retiring knowledge workers step away from their daily thickets of Teams calls and other routines, they still need a structure and a strategy to make the most of their time away. And so do you, job seeker. Allot proper time to balance your search, your family, your self, and perhaps a modicum of new-found breathing room for a hobby or two (see below) that you didn’t make time for when pushing out deliverables. Put it all on your calendar if it helps.

Micro-retirements and job searches are often unfunded or underfunded — rainy-day funds and state unemployment pittances for the latter notwithstanding — so it’s critical to know how much and how long you’re working with from the get-go. Create or revisit your budget and consider how quickly one-time seasonal expenses (like my daughter’s summer-camp fees) and the monthly bills will eat away at your reserves. Do you have reserves for your reserves? Generous, understanding family members?

Whether you’re newly micro-retired or newly job seeking, it’s best to get out there and be social with your time. Join networking groups (LinkedIn has many tools for this!), visit chamber meetings, and build and nurture your network that will be there for you — and you for it — whether you’re looking for qualified job contacts, or you can help someone else with the same. The bottom line: Please do not do this alone.

Now we move on to the long-awaited self-discovery parallel! Take micro-vacations with friends/family, find a new fitness class, make a dent in that unread cache of books or Kindle library from months (years?) ago — basically, partake in activities that expand your mind and perspective. Baby steps here beat audacious leaps that may exhaust you. And you may just open yourself up to other career opportunities!

As with any major life event — micro-retirement, retirement, job search or thousands more — intentionality begets success. Focus on all the aspects of you that need nurturing during this time, and you’ll likely return to work relaxed, with stronger work-life boundaries and new tools to write all the chapters you still have ahead of you.

Jay Magee, APR, is a communications and marketing leader who helps enterprises strengthen brand trust, grow digital engagement, and move stakeholders to action. Learn more about him and his work at jaymagee.com.

Bonus Reading: Need a Career Break? A Micro-Retirement Might Be For You