THERE APPEAR TO BE TWO OF ME ON LINKEDIN—I AM MORTIFIED, BUT I KEEP ON FORGETTING TO KILL ONE
I grew up in the days when we still plowed with horses, we ate rabbits routinely rather than chicken, the nearest thing to a TV in most houses was a radio, and flying was in converted wartime aircraft (and a real luxury).
Dragons—needless to say—roamed the skies, and dinosaurs were a traffic hazard. What is more, it was not uncommon to need a starting handle to start a car.
I’ll bet you have never heard of, let alone seen, a starting handle. You haven’t lived.
To be fair, my grandmother was old-fashioned; and elsewhere in the world—other than on her farm—people had been using tractors for years—but I just want to make the point that I grew up in a very different time, literally decades before computers were in general use, and probably centuries before the Social Media were invented to complicate life.
Accordingly, when I was first introduced to LinkedIn, I didn’t take it seriously. I played with it a bit, didn’t take the time necessary to learn how it worked, wrote a very imperfect and unpolished profile—and forgot about it.
Years later, I did do a rather better job on a fresh site—but didn’t think to remove the first one. And, I forgot about it again.
Now, my more recent effort is doing an excellent job, and I seem to be connecting with all sorts of fascinating people, but every so often someone tries to make a connection with the old site—and all is confusion.
I’m in disgrace. I blush. I promise I will kill my doppelganger “real soon now.”
PHOTO: Yes, that aircraft is the civilian version of the wartime DC-3—the kind that dropped paratroops on D-Day—and one like it was the first aircraft I ever flew in. It had canvas seats, but no parachutes for the passengers which, at the age of three, I thought was very unfair.
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