We hate them for not liking our LinkedIn posts.

Of course, not really. But who hasn’t refreshed their browser repeatedly to see how many likes their latest post has — or hasn’t — garnered, and from whom?

While it’s not life or death, it isn’t pure ego either. With layoffs in the U.S. now reaching their highest levels since COVID-19, stakes and tensions are high. The site has become more than a networking tool; it’s a public scoreboard for professional potential, and even one like can make a difference.

Low engagement can also trigger a cringey mix of self-consciousness, status anxiety and old social hierarchies ​w​e thought we’d outgrown.

We note, but scan past, the loyal few who like everything we do. While we appreciate them, alas, the likes are always greener on the other side, and these can feel akin to taking our cousin to the dance.

Intellectually, we get it: It often comes down to timing, feed-crowding or other algorithmic magic. We tell ourselves that what other people think of us is none of our business. Even that person from our professional past who pointedly likes all other mutual connections’ posts ​but ours. (This has itself turned into a kind of compliment — as Taylor Swift might sing it, “​actually ​romantic.”)

And yet, we fret. A watched post never likes.

Some folks just have it — that undeniable charisma. Now part of the workforce, former quarterbacks and homecoming queens are no doubt awash in online adoration. The “Seinfeld” character Kramer had the kavorka, a (fake) Latvian word meaning “the lure of the animal.” Virility begets virality; he would have owned LinkedIn.

But us? Not so much. We are skilled and hard workers, but not natural networkers. Whereas some folks casually amass thousands of connections, we can be hard on people, assessing them as critically as Marie Kondo did clothes or clutter.

Or perhaps it’s that all social media, like most of life, is high school, with its subtle cuts and casual cruelties. Scrolling the halls, clicking through the cafeteria, it is evident who temporarily holds power and who does not.

Whether you’re 18 or 80, everyone wants to be liked, especially on a platform that is, ​a​t least officially, all business. So, it smarts when the “Mean Girls” (everyone’s got some, men among them) seem to prop up only each other in an endlessly congratulatory closed loop system. Gaining admission can feel as unlikely to happen as the word “fetch.”

In our defense, the fashion keeps changing. While it was briefly haute to humblebrag, stern missives from social media experts now warn us never to utter the words “thrilled,” “honored” or “proud” again, even (especially?) if we mean them. What does one do when actual authenticity may not ring true?

Granted, we don’t like everything our connections post either. But when all someone ever ​posts ​are their corporate employer’s news release​s, what is there for us to actually like, love, celebrate or declare insightful or funny? When someone shares their personal thoughts, aspirations, efforts or accomplishments, we like the hell out of it!

We will occasionally, impulsively, remove a notorious non-liker from our network. After all, we reason, if we have consistently engaged with their content, but they have never responded in kind, were we ever truly “connected”? If a tree falls in the forest without ever having been liked, did it ever stand at all?

Admittedly, this is awkward. But we must resist the urge to send out a new connection request the following morning. No one’s buying our sheepish “I don’t know how that happened.”

With ​the new year upon us, let’s resolve to make the most of what is ultimately, undeniably, a powerfully beneficial platform.

For starters, we’ll stop assuming the worst. While we can take steps to improve the odds, a lack of likes likely isn’t personal. Most people ​scroll, maybe stop and skim, ​but then move on. No malice. No meaning. ​No one’s really thinking about us all that much.

Next, likes or no likes, and on LinkedIn and beyond, we’ll keep posting anyway, for the sake of our own creative expression, the practice and pleasure of the words. Sure, we’ll strive to provide value — not only with our content, but by connecting authentically with others, on the platform and (more importantly) off. But, after that, we’ll let it go and let karma take the wheel. Deal?

Finally, we’ll focus more on liking ourselves. Everyone and everything else, if it’s meant to, should follow.

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Tania Zamorsky is a New York-based public relations and communications consultant.

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