The Time I (Think) I Got Catfished on LinkedIn

Part of my (real) job is recruiting online tutors to come work for my company. I have tried a number of different platforms on which to post job listings, but I’ve always found LinkedIn to be the most reliable. There’s something about that platform that makes people act like professional adult humans, which I appreciate. 

I tried posting on Facebook in a group called “Side Hustles for Teachers” because, c’mon. I said, “If you’re interested, please send your resume to the following email address.” I got so many people who just commented “interested” under the post and did nothing else. Can you imagine trying to apply for a job by just messaging a recruiter with the word “interested?” I cannot. That is not how people do things. But I digress. As per usual. 

I post on LinkedIn that I’m looking for an online elementary school tutor. This girl applies, we’ll call her Brittany. Because “her” name on LinkedIn was, in fact, Brittany. And since I’m pretty sure she’s not even real (which hopefully you inferred from the title), I don’t think she’ll mind that I used her actual name. So Brittany applies with a decent resume and sends me an InMail message. Now Brittany was not that outstanding a candidate, but I like someone with enough gumption (you don’t hear that word too much anymore to send me a message, so I responded with an offer to interview her over the phone. 

I called Brittany and we had what can only be described as a perfectly normal interview. She seemed like your average elementary school teacher-warm, nice, normal. So we set up a second interview, which is a demo class where the potential teacher will deliver a lesson to me as if I were a student. I put it on my calendar and think nothing else of it. A couple days later, she messages me on LinkedIn and said she’d like to cancel the demo class because she found another opportunity. Cool, whatever. I wish her the best.

The next time I call someone for an interview, I get sent straight to voicemail. I leave a message, because that’s what you do if you’re a grown up and a professional. The person calls me back a few minutes later and said my phone number came up as “Spam Risk.” I call people from my personal cell phone that I have NEVER used to spam call anyone. I think, “Well, this is odd. It’s probably a fluke,”and file it in my brain under “stuff I’m not real worried about.”

A couple days later, Brittany messages me on LinkedIn saying she’s had a change of heart and wants to schedule the demo class after all. Again, I put it on my schedule. I log in to our meeting at our prearranged time and…wait. Nothing. I call her to see what’s up and it goes straight to a non-specific “you’ve reached 555-...” voicemail greeting. I leave her a pleasant voicemail asking about our demo lesson. I also wanted to send her a LinkedIn message, but when I got to LinkedIn and saw our message history, her name was replaced by “LinkedIn member” and I could no longer view her profile. I Googled her name and…nothing. I don’t ever Google people and get absolutely nothing. Everyone is somewhere on the internet. A couple days later, our messages disappeared from my LinkedIn mail history. 

At this point, I have so many questions.

Was Brittany’s existence just some fever dream I had had? 

Who catfishes people on LinkedIn of all places? 

And, more importantly, why?

I didn’t hurt or offend her in any way, so what’s the motivation for this?

How does one unspam oneself?

There are no answers here. 

The next call I made for an interview again went straight to voicemail. Again, like a professional (I’m trying to not-so-subtly hint that you should always leave a message), I left a voicemail. When she called me back, she said the caller ID came up as “Texas Court.”

I do live in Texas and my name is Court, but I do not now, nor have I ever, been a part of the Texas judicial system. 

I tried, to no avail, to get my number “de-spammed” but once AT&T decides you’re a spammer, you’re wearing that scarlet S for life. I often wonder if “Brittany” knows, months after our bizarre encounter, she still lives rent-free in my head. I guess that’s point of catfishing someone?