Sunday, April 15, 2012

Really Too Precocious Little Fellow

Once you know what employers are likely looking for in regard to skills and experience, you write “CAR stories”—what challenges did you face in a previous job (or elsewhere), what actions did you take, what were the positive results? Once you get those all written out, you draw from the actions and results sections to write the professional experience part of your resume, and if you actually get an interview, you can then regale the interviewer with harrowing details about the challenges you faced.

Just to make sure a first draft actually got completed, I registered for a resume review session at the office of the career consultants tomorrow, and vowed that no DVD would be watched until the draft was done.

I spent all day yesterday on it, and it was truly work, beginning with organizing all the pieces of information acquired on this topic over the past 15 years, and tackling the preparatory steps recommended by the career consultants, including writing the CAR stories. Nothing near a whole draft was completed by bedtime, but the prep work was mostly done and I got a couple of sections drafted.

Quite often I’ve been having that “relaxing in the isness” feeling, which I greatly appreciate for its pleasant and soothing qualities. Prior to birth, I was, I think, drifting along as an undifferentiated part of the cosmic cloud of pure consciousness, then manifested as Bugwalk and am getting to have the extraordinary experience of being human, with all its tremendous sense pleasures to enjoy (as well as giant piles of crud, of course), and later will sink into the ocean of personality-free wakefulness again, Rumi’s free-swimming fish (“Tending Two Shops”). Pardon this loathsome expression but I often do feel this way now: it’s all good.

I went to Rainbow today and was in the checkout line behind a disgruntled pudgy boy of about three who was in the company of his harassed-looking grey-haired father. The child was a total brat, snatching things away from his parent and threatening to scream at the slightest hint of opposition or redirection. I couldn’t wait to get away from him, and as the father was retrieving yet another item tossed to the ground, I said, “Looks like you have your hands full,” which caused the child to say directly to me in fairly high dudgeon, “That’s not very nice.”

I had not expected any toddler to understand what I was saying, let alone articulate a germane response. Next thing I knew, the father was insisting that the child apologize, but I interrupted and said, “No, he’s totally right.” Then I said to the child, “You are correct that I was suggesting something unflattering—I apologize.” What an astute wee sprout! But I do feel for his parent, and I hope there is a second one in this particular case. (My favorite checkout person murmured to me, “He does seem like a handful.”)

I did my cooking and then it was back to resume editing. I cannot believe how much effort it took, but it should never be quite this painful again. Now I have a process to follow and some practice doing it, plus I have at least the draft of a resume targeted to one particular position to take to the resume editing session, and shouldn’t need more than a handful of other versions. What I’ve got now is much better than anything I had before.

When I spoke to my mother on the phone, I extolled the virtues of networking and told her what I’ve been up to.

“You’re doing it!” she marveled.

“It was the threat of having to live in a basement in Ypsilanti that kicked me into higher gear.”

A natural saleswoman, she said, “If you keep the gutters clean, it won’t be wet down there and it won’t be so bad. You can use the weight bench and the sofa.”

“Really? I can use the weight bench and the sofa? Maybe I’m being too hasty.”

And the sofa? No, I don’t think I said that. I think I said, ‘you can use the weight bench as a sofa,’” she said, adding, “There is no sofa down there.”

Gainful employment is, yep, starting to look a little better.
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