In these days when nothing is certain and change is
everywhere, that seems like a great idea. So I dutifully compile my work
experience and skills on a clean document, using readable fonts, bullet points
and action words, keeping it to the maximum length of one page.
Project complete, I look it over and think, “Who is this person?”
Project complete, I look it over and think, “Who is this person?”
Fair or not, there are many things that could be assumed
about someone who has been with the same company for over 20 years, most of
them not good. Add to the equation that my career of choice finds itself
hanging off the edge of a cliff holding onto a precariously skinny branch
hearing snapping sounds and the prospect is more worrisome. And the fact that
I’m in my 50’s? Ah yes…there’s that too.
I’ve had success in my career, but the world is changing,
the way we do business is changing, and I am changing. So how does one become
what they were meant to be when your resume speaks to who you no longer are?
In the “old days”, people would read your cover letter and
resume. Real people. They would open the envelope and unfold the contents. They
would hold that piece of paper that represented ‘you’ in their hands, and feel
the quality of the carefully chosen stock. They could read between the lines
and pick up on nuances and personality intended to reveal just enough to make
them want to set up an interview.
Today, electronically submitted resumes are screened by a
computer. Unless your application contains key words and information programmed
in their search criteria, a human being might never know you applied. So after
hours of agonizing over your application and putting yourself out there for
inspection with a hope and a prayer, you may get an automated response
indicating you will never hear anything from a human being, ever- if you get a
response at all.
Efficient? Perhaps, especially in these times when an
interesting job can get hundreds of responses. Effective? I say no. Not because
I’m a “fuddy-duddy” who doesn’t understand technology, but because I’ve been
around long enough to see the difference in the ‘old way’ vs. the ‘new way’.
Almost none of my great employees had the perfectly matched, relevant work
experience that a computer would be excited about. Almost all of them showed a
spark of excitement or enthusiasm that computers could care less about. But
it’s that non-scannable spark that made them great.
With nothing to lose, I’ve decided to re-write my resume to
make it even more repugnant to computers. My new skill set: I always let people
cross the street. I’m authentic. I don’t lie. I can bust a move. I check and
fill my own oil. I’m a survivor. I try to make a difference. I love learning. I
find typos everywhere. I can get ready in 5 minutes. I don’t get sick on
spinning rides. I’m an excellent driver. I have a million bad ideas, but a
couple of really great ones. I listen. I spend more time researching a vacation
than I spend on the actual trip. I eat dessert. I’ll never leave the copy
machine paper tray empty. Resume scanning systems and I do not get along.
Confident that my new resume better reflects who I am, I
realize the next opportunity will most likely happen the same way my career has
unfolded: Someone who knows someone who knows someone I know needs someone
exactly like me.
Low tech? Yes. Effective? Definitely.
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