Friday, June 20, 2008


Yesterday my friend Kate called me, saying that she would be handing in her CV to a nearby shop. She wanted a summer job. After she had told me this, she went on about some minutia that, apparently, I JUST HAD to hear. 

But I had forgotten to listen. I thought about my own employment status: unemployed. I, by no means, come from a very wealthy family - but somehow, maybe because of laziness or lack of maturity or lack of independence - or in fact, all of these, I never felt the impetus to get a summer job, let alone create a CV.

However, my inherent competitiveness had overpowered my inherent sloth, thus forcing me to drag my ass in front of the computer and begin to think of things that would make me irresistible to employers. I could think of none. 

The plan was to "steal" the coveted position of cashier from my dear friend, guerrilla-style, but in order for this honourable deed  to be done, I would have to think of my skills and print them onto paper. Being able to speak and write German (well, sort of), is that a skill? How about being unbelievably photogenic? It was as though a herd of  rabid first years had invaded my mind, leaving my thoughts in a mess. 

I called Kate and demanded that she come over and show me her CV. I would use hers as a template. However, looking over her 40 page CV, it would be like using a Renoir as a template for an apprentice's first attempts. Captain of the badminton and tennis club? Treasurer of the Student Council? Class President from 1st to 6th class? Please, she was such a cliche - of a perfect employee. Meanwhile, I was completely green - with envy and inexperience. After seventeen years of existing on this planet, how is it possible that I had achieved nothing worth putting on a CV? Why is it that our friends seem to be completely perfect and flawless, while we are like walking train wrecks with nothing at all to recommend us? Is this reality or insecurity?

Two cups of green tea and half an hour later, I had completed my very first curriculum vitae. It looked very green and amateur-ish. Oh well, better than nothing right?.... Right? Kate had left to drop off her CV at another grocery shop. Bitch.

The next day, I stood at the parking lot of the store, the one where Kate had dropped off one of her immaculate records of her over-achieving life. One hand had a CV, the other had fingers tightly crossed. It was only 10 AM, so there weren't really a lot of customers, just the occasional men and women in power-suits, obviously late for their power-jobs. 

I never handed in the wretched thing, of course. It was totally embarrassing, Mariah-Carey-in-Glitter-embarrassing. I figured that until I had achieved something worth putting on paper, like a Pulitzer, this CV would remain under my bed, dormant.

Kate didn't get the job. Evidently, there were other people more perfect and more over-achieving. I'm still not sure how to feel about this.

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