I got asked for my resume this week.
I had to go through my old computer files, where I had “Resume 1,” “Resume 2” and “Resume 3.” I have no memory of creating any of them, they all looked alike on first glance, so I just went with #3, hoping it was the most recent.
Technically the editor didn’t ask for a resume, she asked for a “CV,” which – and I’m not 100 percent sure about this; correct me if I’m wrong - means she’s Canadian.
If dust could settle on computer files, my resume (especially #1) would be covered with it. The address I had listed, well, I can’t remember what the kitchen looked like in that house.
I still remember working on my first resume. It was my junior year at Kent and I typed up my resume and took it to an actual printing company in Niles. I picked out a font (I think there were seven to choose from) and a paper quality and they reprinted it and made 25 copies for me for something like $50. I only had a few things to put on my resume, so to fill the page, it was all in 24 point type, which is THIS BIG.
My experience included being a short order cook at King’s Inn, where I worked for the largest group of alcoholics this side of the Pennsylvania line; waitressing at Howard Johnson’s, where I worked for a lecherous, racist manager and waited on lecherous, racist truck driver customers; and – here’s the big one – typing news releases at the Hubbard News office, which smelled like a Polish lady’s kitchen and my attic on Stewart Avenue.
My current resume is interesting. But it doesn’t begin to reflect my skills. And yes, Pedro, I have skills. They’re just not resume material. I’ve done a lot of stuff over the years, perfected a lot of talents.
Do they translate to anything employable? No. But in a perfect world, I should be able to put them on my resume to explain what I’ve been doing all these years.
Here’s a sampling of “Resume #4:”
Rememberer of birthdays December 1983 – present
Was responsible for tracking birthdays of family, husband’s family, all members of wedding party, coworkers, and both my and my husband’s friends from childhood through college (approximately 250 people), as well as several wedding anniversaries. Purchased cards and gifts and facilitated mailing and delivering both. Was successful in finding appropriate gift for mother-in-law for 23 consecutive years, with minimal help from the Signals catalog. Tracked and responded to graduations, births, weddings, retirements with appropriate gifts/cards/money as dictated by individual standards. For my own children, planned elaborate theme parties; planned and purchased theme related goody bags and decorations. Baked from-scratch birthday cakes and an occasional giant cookie or dirt pudding upon request.
Meal preparer/Cook/Dietician July 1988 – present
Planned and executed meals for growing family with constantly changing tastes, allergies, and trends, including two encounters with PETA-enhanced vegetarianism by teenagers. Was successful in keeping Kraft macaroni and cheese consumption to a bare minimum. Kept a good-sport humor during bombardment of jokes concerning experimentation with cheese flan.
Patient listener at parent meetings July 1989 – present
Attended, arrived on time to, and looked interested at a variety of parent meetings, including sports booster clubs, teacher conferences, back-to-school nights, band parent meetings, college prep advisories, and “we’re-pretty-sure-your-child-is-gifted” meetings. Successfully stifled snorts, tsks, eye rolls and heavy sighs in light of meetings in excess of 2 hours, a barrage of stupid questions, and displays of obnoxious behavior. Responded politely at “we’re-pretty-sure-your-child-has-ADD” meetings.
Scheduler of soccer snacks September 1990 – present
Organized team of 14 families in providing nutritious, non-allergic snacks that appealed to ages 5 through 13, in various climates and income levels. Created schedule, distributed charts to all parents and was responsible for ultimate follow-through and providing emergency oranges, Fruit Rollups and Capri Suns from the trunk of my car when parents failed to provide.
There is so much more. I know I have to limit my new resume to two pages. I wonder how small the type can get . . .