I told the career counselor that, as a fish, I didn’t think I needed a LinkedIn account. But, he informed me it was necessary for my online presence. He told me it would be hard to get a career if I didn’t have a profile. I told him I didn’t want a career. He asked me why I was swimming in his office if I didn’t want a career. I told him it was a long story. He said he didn’t have to meet with his next client for another 30 minutes.

So I explained my situation.

I was swimming at home earlier that day, very bored and a tad purposeless. I couldn’t remember which feeling had come first, the boredom or the purposelessness. I figured that one was causing the other, but couldn’t put my fin on which was the root issue. Instead of continuing to contemplate the origins of my apathy, I decided to distract myself. Some of my fish friends are part of a self-awareness accountability group that they claim has done wonders for their mental health. I assume that un-awareness works just as well. With this assumption, I swam down to the public library in search of a diversion.

After 43 minutes of shelf surfing, I glided over to the front desk to check out my selection: a murder mystery, a crockpot cookbook, and a documentary DVD about the Egyptian pyramids. The librarian beeped each of my items. I floated my library card over to him only to find out it had expired. Since when do library cards expire, I inquired. Apparently, it was a new policy. The librarian instructed me to fill out a 3-page document to renew my card. He told me that data was saving the ocean. The more of my data the library had on file, the better customer service they would be able to provide me.

I explained that filling out lengthy paperwork wasn’t improving my experience. The librarian told me to write my complaint down in the comment section at the bottom of the third page.

Hovering over a child-sized table in the picture book section of the library, I began to fill out the form. One and a half pages in, the boredom and purposelessness began to seep back into my scales. The cost of obtaining distraction includes the dullness from which one wishes to escape. At the moment of this realization, I decided to abandon the form.

Drifting out of the library, I proposed a new solution to myself. Maybe I could outrun boredom and purposelessness by giving off the appearance of drivenness. Faking a pursuit of excellence might preoccupy me enough to cure my lethargy.

In-between the library and my home I noticed your career counseling building. I’d never seen it before, but as I approached, I surmised that this would be exactly the right type of place for faking a competitive drive. I saw the sign announcing LinkedIn head shots for $10 and was hooked. As you can see from the free prints your front desk photographer threw in, I don’t look too happy in my profile picture. I think it’ll take a while for my new-found ambition to translate into any sort of contentment.

Anyways, I still don’t think fish need LinkedIn accounts. But, as a part of my new dedication to faking my best life, I’m planning on going home and adding a few buzzwords to my profile page. I appreciate you allowing me to waste your time. Hopefully, your next client will demonstrate more sincerity than I am capable of.

No worries, the career counselor informed me. The recounting of my day’s meaninglessness had served as a welcome distraction.