you may resumé
I love words. Big ones, little ones, complex ones, simple ones. I’ve been enamored with them since I first learned the alphabet. It was as if I had unlocked a magical world I didn’t even know existed.
But sometimes words fail me. Sometimes I find myself staring at my resumé with no clue how to express myself. I think if I just focus long enough, my MacBook and I will achieve some kind of mind-meld and those words I couldn’t quite grasp will materialize on the screen. (It hasn’t happened yet, but I’ll keep you posted.)
I’ve never had writer’s block. I’ve always been able to write something. The problem is, it’s not usually resumé writing. I struggle to find that lovely line between honesty and self-promotion. The truth is, my job history is kinda pathetic. The truth is, although I have a master’s degree, I don’t have a lot of experience in anything.
I don’t know how to tell them I’m smart. I learn quickly. And I make sure I’m good at whatever I do, not because I’m freakishly talented or something, but because I work hard and I make it my goal to do everything to the best of my ability. I don’t know how to explain that I hold myself to freakishly high standards and push myself to accomplish things that may not be entirely possible. I don’t know how to say that I’m the person in the movie who stays behind so the others can get away—I honestly want to make life better for someone else.
When I think about how to capture that in a resumé, words fade away. And all that remains is silence and that darn resumé staring at me, unblinking, unyielding.
If you need me, you’ll find me in front of my resumé, staring back, unblinking, unyielding.