And there it was.
The post on LinkedIn that I knew was going to change my life:

“Here’s what finding sand in my shoe taught me about inventory management.”

Fucking spectacular.

Look, I get it. People are out there trying their best—finding meaning in coffee foam, shoe sand, and spilled oat milk. Connecting the viscosity of clotted cream to some cold-calling metaphor about never giving up. It’s what the gurus tell you to do. Find a metaphor. Add a lesson. Slap a moral on it.

Personal brands and social selling aren’t new, but they’re back. And this time, they’ve got ring lights.

We’ve all fallen victim to the algorithm at some point. Hell, I was addicted to Facebook from 2007–2010, had a love affair with Instagram, a fling with Twitter (X), and recently, made a return to LinkedIn.

After reading that life-altering sand post, I slumped in my chair, stared at the ceiling, and wrote this line:

Every environment that delivers visible reward—likes, money, praise, applause—creates a feedback loop.
If not kept in check, that loop quietly shifts behaviour from expression to performance.

That’s when I realised: I’d joined the circus too.

How I Got Caught

Three months. That’s all it took in the art scene on X before I started posting like a dopamine junkie on my alternative account.

I wasn’t expressing myself. I was chasing numbers. Likes became validation. Comments became currency. Expression had quietly become performance.

And the worst part?
I was good at it.

The LinkedIn Hustle Translation Guide

If you’ve spent any time in social media growth circles, you know the playbook:

  • Provide value.
  • Write to one avatar.
  • Give away everything.
  • Comment, comment, COMMENT.

Cool. Here’s what that really means in the wild:

“Engage authentically with your community!”
→ Comment on big accounts, so people click your profile and maybe buy your course.

“Provide value first—always give more than you take.”
→ Give away free stuff until someone feels guilty enough to buy from you.

“Build genuine relationships, not transactions.”
→ Pretend to care about someone’s dog photos until they’re ready to be pitched.

“Share your authentic story. Be vulnerable.”
→ Trauma-dump strategically so people think you’re relatable—then pivot to your framework.

It’s all part of the unspoken Shadow Code of social media —
everyone knows the game, but no one says it out loud.

We’re all chasing the same thing: attention.
We just dress it up differently.

And look, I’m not above it. I like attention. I like money. I like when people think I’m clever.The difference?

I’m just not pretending a grain of sand taught me how to scale a SaaS business.

Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong.

Or maybe I just need a bigger shoe. 😉