In Defense Of "Non-Professional" Resume Writers

Can I say phooey?

Yes. Phooey. Phooey on job sites that market themselves as the end-all "helper" and super salvo in solving your job-less woes by making you "job-full." Apparently, becoming one who is "job-full," and hence "joy-ful," comes at a price, a hefty one, that can be paid in installments, or up-front, in one heap, with an incentive - in the form of a ten percent discount. I must tell you here and now, that I have never landed a job worth scrap by using one of these "job" sites. But, as I've been looking for a permanent job for some time, I decided to invest quite a few hours in applying online to various job postings at various sites, that for some reason have been named in honor of quick-witted animals or ghouls. You, as applicant, though, need to possess quick-wit, spunk, and some knowledge of yourself and reality to get through some of the anointed resume-building suggestions. The following are my non-scientific findings.

Yesterday, I applied to a few jobs on one of the designated job sites. Within a few minutes, and then again today, I received e-mails on how I am "sabotaging" my chances in becoming gainfully employed, because my resume, shall we say, or according to the site, "lacks luster." Maybe, some fortifying cream conditioner would help the problem some? The "expert" writes "the ideal resume is airy, clean, and uncluttered, with the effective and strategic use of white space." And here I thought and dare I say, that a resume was supposed to be something of substance, not simply white paper with a clever sheen. I apparently also come across as a "doer," not an "achiever." What does this mean? So, the job search process has been whittled down to a game of semantics, and I the "doer," not the "achiever" have suffered a verdict of guilty with respect to my ideas about and non-allegiance to the site's conclusions on the three "V's": verbatim, vernacular and verbiage. Clearly, me and the fox/monster are at odds.

The "expert" also claimed that I had "at least one spelling/grammatical error" in my resume, and I would be better-served if I had a "new and fresh pair of eyes" to peruse my illiterate rendition at a low-cost of $399. If there's anything you can say in my defense, it is that I am a good, maybe great speller, with hawk eyes that can spy a misspelling from a mile away. If my hawk eyes were feeling lazy, I have a mother who also possesses similar attributes, and a great capacity to catch offending misspellings within a second. So there, site, you're clearly in over your head, and do not know the level of spelling bee you're dealing with.

The other funny business went like this. In order for me to be considered for a job worth my "impressive array of expertise," I must highlight my strong-points. I, must for example, when "selling myself" to potential employers, write in bold, that I am a "high potential reporter and producer." That one really made me cringe, and squeeze my tushy*. If you're in fact a "high potential reporter and producer," would you feel the itching need to write it in bold letters on your C.V.?

So, fox/monster, in defense of "non-professional" resume writers, I must contest all your suggestions and findings, and tell you, with all my heartfelt gratitude, that I am pleased that you find my resume wanting...I would not like it much if you gave me a gold star for the strength of my "clean" margins, and my "airy" summation of years working and schooling. I also am disgusted by your taking advantage of people who clearly find themselves in an unpleasant situation, and perhaps are driven by desperation, to pay you six installments of $399. Shame on you, and phooey. As my mother said earlier, your shamelessness and crappy non-sensical advice made her "want to burp." Next time I'm at the pharmacy, I will be sure to reach high-up and pay for the $3.99 "length and strength" conditioner for fragile and hard-to-grow-permanent job status, it's a tonic that helps repair split means to ends, and a salvo that's far cheaper to spread all over my C.V.

*General Note: I squeeze my tush when I'm embarrassed for someone or something.