I’ve been approached more times than I can count by organizations on LinkedIn, all of them claiming to be impressed by my background and eager to feature my story in their publication.
After doing my research, the pattern became clear. Your name gets listed in a booklet for free, but your photo, your story, your actual presence — that costs you. These are pay-to-play operations dressed up as recognition.
I’ve noticed the same dynamic shows up at conferences, where you pay $30K for the “pleasure” of being on a panel with someone.
The Experience That Pushed Me to Write This
One organization stood out to me. They featured women professionals and had enough credibility signals, including Forbes mentions, testimonials from people who confirmed their stories were published even without purchasing an upgraded package — I agreed to an interview.
The conversation was genuinely enjoyable. But what followed was a high-pressure sales push that required an immediate response. When I asked if I could take some time to think over their offer, they said I needed to decide right now. No time to think it over and no opportunity to circle back. That urgency made me uncomfortable and dismantled any trust that had been built during the interview.
When I declined, the response was telling: “I’m sad you don’t see the value in investing in yourself.”
I understood the person on the other end had a quota to hit, but weaponizing guilt tactics to make someone open their wallet and framing hesitation as a personal failure is wrong. I thanked her for her time and did not create an account.
The Bigger Question
As you can imagine, the experience annoyed me, but what struck me afterwards is what their very existence reveals about the professional landscape we’ve built.
Something is clearly missing if organizations like this can thrive by playing to our desire to be seen and heard. LinkedIn was built for professional connections, but somewhere along the way, it became a platform where everyone is shouting, and very few are actually listening.
But what are we actually building?
One thing that holds true is that a good story is one of the most powerful things we have. When you hear or read someone’s journey, the pivots, the setbacks, the moments of doubt that turned into clarity — something shifts. You see yourself in it and borrow courage from it. You learn from the choices someone else made, the obstacles they navigated, and the version of themselves they had to become to get through it. Stories don’t just inform; they connect us to something larger than our own experience. Vulnerability is the whole point, and you reach people you didn’t know you could reach.
The question I keep coming back to is: how do we show up genuinely on professional platforms? How do we build something rather than just broadcasting into the void?
Community Is the Answer We Already Have
Reflecting on what it means to create genuine connections made me think about those who helped me along the way. The people who showed up during my most trying professional moments, who offered perspective when I couldn’t find my own. And currently, the monthly women’s brunches a friend and I started, where a small group gathers to talk honestly about the tribulations of work and life — people offering recommendations, a listening ear, and the rare gift of helping you put something into words, which, it turns out, is half the battle in processing and moving through it.
That is community. That is what people are actually hungry for.
There’s nothing wrong with monetizing an idea. But when the financial barrier becomes the whole point, when access is the product, something gets lost. The irony? Free events often have the lowest attendance, while paid ones fill up. People assign value to what they invest in. But there has to be a way to create access, quality, and genuine commitment without pricing people out of the conversation.
What I’m Doing About It
This led me to want to create a platform. Not another podcast the world doesn’t need. Something more intentional: a space where people can share their professional story, and the things they’re genuinely knowledgeable about, the passions that don’t fit neatly on a resume. The kind of exchange that reminds you that you can learn something real from almost anyone, if you actually stop to listen.
More than that, I want the people I’m meeting to meet each other. I want to create the connective tissue that LinkedIn promises but doesn’t always deliver: people having their moment to shine without a sales pitch waiting on the other end.
I’m not entirely sure where this journey will take me, but I hope it’s a meaningful one with the intention and the belief that showing up honestly is the only foundation worth building on.
The visibility trap exists because there’s a real void. I’d rather help fill it.
There is more to come. I’ll continue to post trends and challenges I’m seeing across ecosystems — stay tuned.