Out of Office
On absence, presence, and how we show up online.

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I was chatting with an old friend about a website project and, naturally, we spiraled into a side conversation about LinkedIn. How weird it is, how useful it is, how everyone always says they should be doing more with it, and how she feels the pressure to post consistently because the algorithm demands it.
I never realize how much I need to vent about visibility until I talk to someone who’s in the same boat. But that bit about consistency—the algorithm-mandated rhythm of always showing up—I’ve started to push back against that. Not only because I never see a noticeable bump in impressions when I do post more, but because it’s increasingly at odds with how I want to show up in the world. I don’t want to believe that we need to be that online to build trust and connect with people (or that chasing the algorithm’s moving target is anything but a neverending, unwinnable task).
This all came into focus over Memorial Day weekend. Alyssa and I drifted from a Tiny Table Tours food tour with her mom straight into crawling shore traffic, blasting “party 4 u” and soaking up that early-summer, windows-down feeling. On Instagram, I saw more of the same: beach pics, farmers markets, Aperol spritzes. The weather was supposed to be trash, but no one seemed to care. It was like we’d all collectively decided: summer has arrived.
Now, on the other side of that bliss, I find myself daydreaming about a summer full of that same energy. Less working. No scheduled programming. No LinkedIn. But of course, I’m also in the middle of building a business, a brand, a niche. And that work does require some level of showing up. If you asked me on a day when I’m deep in thought about work, I’d probably say this is going to be my summer of social media—it’s aml’s LinkedIn Summer! But is it really? Maybe the better question is how I want to be visible this summer. And: how much.

During the food tour, we stopped at Biederman’s Specialty Foods, and Alyssa and I chatted briefly with Lauren (of Bumpin’ That Hat fame) about her summer plans. She’s gearing up for some Big Business Moves™ while also grappling with the reality that much of Philly checks out for the summer season. Meanwhile, our tour guide Maddy was just ramping up, heading into one of the busiest weekends of the season. The locals leave. The tourists arrive. Absence, it turns out, is more complicated than it seems. One person’s lull is another’s high season.
The balance is so tricky for small brands. So much depends on timing, and so little of that timing is up to you. But when you do get to choose—when the lull is yours to take—it’s hard to know if it’s the right moment to step back, or if anyone will even notice you’re gone. There’s no built-in option to toss up an “out of office” reply and vanish into vacation mode… Or is there?
Lately, I’ve seen examples of people and brands stepping back in ways that don’t feel jarring or confusing at all. They feel like smart strategy. Because when it's done well, absence can build trust, anticipation, and a stronger relationship with your audience. It can signal values like authenticity, boundaries, and balance.

Cookbook author Dan Pelosi (I’ve talked about his killer branding before) recently came back from a vacation and sent out a very quick, warm newsletter that ended with:
“As promised, a full trip recap will be coming to your inboxes soon… Thank you for your patience while we vacationed!”
And before that (while he was still on the trip) he sent:
“If you are on Instagram, be sure to watch my stories every day, as I am posting extensive recaps! …For now, we want to stay present in the time we have here and see as much as we can! …Can’t wait to share more with you soon!”
He was still posting to some degree (it was a sponsored trip), but he didn’t waste any energy churning out content on ALL platforms. He didn’t fill them with fluff either. He simply said: back in a week. It’s a small gesture that communicates a lot. That kind of clarity is refreshing.

Another one: the Chelsea Flower Show just wrapped, and participants are finally catching their breath and posting their last reflections. One of my favorite posts came from TV presenter and garden columnist Rachel de Thame, who wrote:
“I don’t know how everyone else manages to get their posts up promptly! By the end of Chelsea I’d taken so many photos, I’ve asked my youngest daughter to help choose what to share. So here’s her edit…”
She simply handed the reins over. I love it.

And last, Scampi, a Philly Italian restaurant, posted:
“We love you with or without dietary restrictions, we just can’t always accommodate you <3.”
And while this isn’t quite the same as stepping away for a summer vacation, it’s a moment of boundary-setting with their audience that feels important to note. Instead of simply saying no, they followed up by recommending and tagging other restaurants (...competitors!!!). It became a moment of generosity, redirection, and collaboration, all rolled into one. And of course, everyone tagged got a visibility boost too.
All of these approaches—being clear, stepping aside, sharing the mic—require trust. Trust that your audience is paying attention, that they'll still be there when you're back, and that you don’t have to fill every quiet space with content. That trust is earned, of course, but it’s also a decision that’s yours to make.
Stepping back isn’t just about disappearing. It’s about deciding how you disappear and what you leave in your place. You don’t have to be constantly visible to be effective.
I still don’t know what this means for my own LinkedIn Summer, but I’ll let you know where I end up…if I feel like it!

Scraps
Biederman’s, Dan Pelosi, Scampi. Maybe you read this issue and shouted, ENOUGH ALREADY WITH THE REPEATED EXAMPLES!! (Sorry for loving these folks so much, sheesh.)
But seriously, consider this a call for help. It’s tough to see beyond my own algorithm bubble. When you come across a great example of small-brand ingenuity, send it my way! You can DM me on Instagram, TikTok, or LinkedIn—wherever you hang out.
All thoughts are welcome. You can also reach me by email: annemarie@amlindemann.com.