Imagine a giant room where thousands of humans gather, but instead of napping, grooming, or demanding treats, they spend all day trying to convince everyone else that they are the most important, hardworking, and “transformative” human in the world.

That, my feline friend, is LinkedIn.

To a cat, it is basically a dystopia of bad behaviour.
Here is why it would make your ears twitch in absolute disgust.

You know how you only purr when you’re genuinely cosy or getting premium wet food? On LinkedIn, humans “purr” constantly about everything, even things that are awful.
If they get fired, they don’t hiss or swipe. Instead, they write a 500-word post about how “excited” and “grateful” they are for the “growth opportunity”.
If their boss steps on their tail, they post: “What my manager stepping on my tail taught me about B2B sales alignment.”
It is entirely fake, and we both know a fake purr is a sign of weakness.

Imagine if, every time you knocked a glass off the counter, you turned to your humans and meowed:
“Gravity is a continuous journey of trial and error. I took the initiative to test the limits today. Agree?”
That is what LinkedIn posts look like. Humans share incredibly obvious, boring thoughts, like “We should treat coworkers with respect”, and then add a dramatic “Agree?” at the end to beg for engagement. It is the human equivalent of screaming at an empty food bowl when there is still kibble in the corners.

You understand the value of a single, sharp hiss when someone crosses a boundary. But LinkedIn humans love to write in a dramatic style called “broetry”.
They write.
In tiny.
One-sentence.
Paragraphs.
To make.
Stupid stories.
Sound epic.
It is a massive waste of energy. If they spent half that time actually chasing mice, the kitchen would be spotless.

They love to brag about their achievements, but they try to hide it under a layer of “humility”.
It is like bringing a dead bird to the carpet, but instead of being proud, they say, “I am incredibly humbled and honoured to share that I successfully disrupted the local avian ecosystem today. I couldn’t have done it without my strategic partners (the garden fence).”
Just show us the bird, human. We know you want praise.

The Verdict: LinkedIn is a place where humans wear uncomfortable clothes, use big words they don’t understand, and pretend they love to “hustle” rather than sleep 16 hours a day. It is exhausting, highly undignified, and severely lacking in cardboard boxes.