I infiltrated LinkedIn influencers: bullshit by the millions

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Their names are Thibaut Louis, Nina Ramen or Caroline Mignaux. These LinkedIn macro-influencers (those with hundreds of thousands of subscribers) have made a name for themselves on the professional social network, almost reaching guru status.

Their faithful drink their publications like the Holy Word. They too dream of achieving record turnover or remuneration by applying their advice and « mindset » (as they say ). Some succeed, on a smaller scale. Others do not let up their efforts despite their slow agony and the difficulty in rising to the top of the fray. LinkedIn works like any other social network: millions of failures for a few superstars.

Intrigued by these often mocked publications on humorous X accounts, I tried to find out a little more about this LinkedIn influencer activity. In 2023, I launched myself on the social network for a few months, looking for this magic formula to earn small fortunes while only working a few hours a week.

Although I did not find this miracle recipe (despite my efforts), I was still able to draw some interesting conclusions by talking at length with some of these creators. Enough to offer you an article, which, ultimately, is not so bad.

LinkedIn: copywriters' playground

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If I did not do a precise statistical study, I was quickly struck by the over-representation of copywriters among the LinkedIn influencers. For those who are not familiar with this profession, copywriters are writers with an exceptional talent for uniting, creating a community and/or selling just about anything and everything thanks to the art of mastering words (and sales techniques). I'm hardly exaggerating.

The best known pride themselves on having managed to generate colossal turnover by writing posts from great business leaders, sold at astronomical prices. By digging a little, we realize that for some, especially the best known, copywriting is no longer the main part of their activity (I will come back to that).

By digging around a little and speaking with a few aspiring influencers, I discovered that there were techniques specific to LinkedIn aimed at increasing engagement. So I applied them all: AIDA, PAS but also the famous (on LinkedIn) TOFU MOFU BOFU, the trifecta of getting rich while sitting in your underwear on your couch.

I also followed the recommendations for regularity, variations between inspiring and practical publications, images, videos and carousels. I followed the advice on good exchange practices: interacting with other influencers' accounts, responding to comments, notifying large accounts (what I call the crack method). I even used a newsletter project (which I would have created anyway) to boost my audience.

Too late

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Surprise, none of this works. The reason is simple: according to aspiring creators (those who have difficulty emerging) the LinkedIn algorithm is incomprehensible and indomitable. The rules change regularly, which means you have to spend a lot of time to gain some insight.

A waste of time for these freelancers (for the most part) looking for contracts to run their business and eat something other than pasta. All the time spent on LinkedIn ultimately prevents them from doing their most important job, which is meeting customer demand.

Faced with this barrier, these users always go further to attract attention. LinkedIn mainly pushes 'inspiring' posts, if possible the most stupid or surreal ones. I invite you to consult the account Disrupted humans of LinkedIn on X to discover some nuggets (an example below).

For LinkedIn, the interest is obvious: the bigger it is, the more engagement it generates. And too bad if the reactions are negative, the network operates on the well-known rule of communication professionals: “Whether people talk about us well or badly , the main thing is that people talk about us».

« Some people get there»you say. You will be right. But the real stars, the accounts with several hundred thousand subscribers all have one thing in common: they started this activity years ago, while LinkedIn was not yet seen as a content creation platform, but as a way to network.

These big names actually had a good sense of the market and had the good (or bad) idea of ​​transforming LinkedIn into this enormous bullshit factory.

Sell bootcamps for several thousand euros for a few days in order to learn how to become an insolent and hateful entrepreneur who generates millions of dollars ;#8217;euros of turnover per year.

The bigger it is, the better it goes

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This is how some LinkedIn gurus have made a place for themselves in the sun. One of the best known has the particularity of being a specialist in provocative publications. And to respond in a haughty, even insulting manner, to anyone who confronts him with his contradictions in the comments. The recipe works: between those who support his theses and those who oppose them, his publications break audience records. This allows him to sell bootcamps for several thousand euros for a few days in order to learn to become an insolent and detestable entrepreneur who generates millions of euros in turnover per year.

Other creators, with a more benevolent approach, adopt the techniques of “online trainers that everyone hates”. The recipe is the same: publications full of promise with calls to action to sell training, coaching or any other product that sells (let's say it) wind.

Digging a little further, I discovered that many of these star influencers had not been practicing their original profession for a long time, if indeed they ever exercised it. Sometimes, doubt is allowed as their publications are riddled with factual errors, banalities and even lies (I will ignore the spelling, grammar or style, a shame for gifted editors). On LinkedIn, it seems that the confidence with which one asserts one's thoughts is worth more than the substance of the thoughts themselves.

Many people admit that they no longer practice their primary profession.

Do as I say not as I do

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I know what you're saying to yourself: “What a madman!” How jealous! At the stake! In order to anticipate these criticisms, I followed the methods of certain influencers more closely. Many people admit that they no longer practice their primary profession. They call it “ scaler ”: understand entrusting thankless tasks to struggling freelancers in order to strut in the media.

Thus, they spend most of their time hosting podcasts or YouTube channels, doing media tours, writing newsletters or organizing bootcamps< /em> sold for a small fortune to freelancers or employees looking for advancement. And copywriting in all this ? Gone, gone.