Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Making the Sale

Does anything feel more dick-ish, than when one attempts to sell ones self? I imagine whores struggle with this all the time – how does one make a case for their professional ability without feeling like a giant knob? In the case of male escorts, I suppose that’s the aim, but for everyone else it’s a real struggle.

I have never spent so much time on a 2 page document in my life. That document is my Resume (also moonlighting as the bane of my current existence). Words and phrases I refuse to use include ‘goal orientated’, ‘go-getter’, ‘team player’, ‘leader’ or ‘track record of success’ – for one thing, I have never heard anyone use those words to describe me, and I don’t want to be the person who starts a trend. Those words and phrases describe the kind of person who creates their own committees and over-indulges in powerpoint presentations. Those words and phrases describe someone who is likely to ask you to “action that”… which IS NOT A THING. People who say “action that” are clinging to a catchy slogan the way Gretchen Weiners clings to “Fetch” in Mean Girls (“Gretchen, stop trying to make ‘fetch’ happen! It’s not going to happen”).

So should I be honest? When I left my last job my boss’s farewell speech referred to me as “The most cynical person I have ever met.” Is that a selling point? One boss once asked me if I was retarded. Perhaps I should scratch him from my referee list.

Writing a resume is like being allowed to write your own obituary. Gloss over the war crimes, skate past the infidelities and allow that bankruptcy/embezzlement moment to slip your mind. I imagine Lara Bingle’s resume refers to her ‘ability to make headlines’ (and money from the interviews that follow), Troy Buswell’s states he has a ‘nose for business’ (not to mention chairs) and Tiger Woods drops in that he’s a ‘world class player’ (insert comedic golfing pun at will).

I have also been informed by my siblings that I will struggle to impress any employer the minute they figure out I am in Gen Y. My siblings are all bitter Gen X-ers who envy my overwhelming ambition, selfish attitude to life and current unemployment. Of course they can’t help their bitterness, I’d be bitter to if I had to spend my professional life being thwarted by Baby Boomers. Most of the Baby Boomers I know are also now worried - probably because they’re my parents and they fear I may need to move home soon.

Perhaps I should add a non Gen Y quality to the list of skills on my resume to ease the concerns of those who might pay me to work. ‘Am philosophically opposed to Peter Pan’s lifestyle choices’, ‘Does not partake in Twitter’ and ‘Is ashamed to share a generational title with Justin Bieber’ are all options I am considering to beef up my credibility. If I really was properly Gen Y in all those horrible clichéd ways, I’d simply auction off my services on Ebay.

As is, I’m left with a blank word document and the burning desire to eat next month. First I need a few more cups of tea, a glass of wine or 2 while I read the paper, then plan a dinner party. Then I’ll sample some Mint Slice, vacuum the lounge room and have a nap. After that, I’ll get back to selling myself via The Resume – I will totally action that.

Painefull Out

No comments:

Post a Comment