I have begun my 47, 329 job search, or so it seems. In reality, if I had to guess, probably about 45.
I am one of those lucky ones who never equipped themselves with a useful degree. My degree? English Literature, non-education. I read a book entitled something like 500 Ways to Screw Up Your Life. Number 18 or 20 (it’s been years since I’ve read it and I’m not even sure the title is correct) was get a degree in English Literature.
I’ve had far too many jobs and most of them not at all cool. (Is cool still a cool word to use, or am I revealing my age yet again?) I’ve dabbled in this and that and my work experience never fits in the space.
I sought professional advice on job searching and was told to make my resume specific for each job I applied for. This is fine if you have worked in and want to stay in the same field. This is a nightmare for a wandering journey girl who’s moved around the country looking for anything that sounded interesting or simply filled the gap, all dependent on circumstances.
Today I rooted through a room full of boxes to uncover the tattered chest of my employment history. I might as well have stepped into a way back machine. As I looked through the list of jobs, I was there, re-living each one. My brain’s having a hard time emerging back to the present and I’m wondering how I can shape the sprawling mass of paper and memories into current, relevant, efficient, effectively managed material that will help me pursue my dream job. . .
Well, not really, because my dream job is writing fiction and I’m already doing that on the side, for now, just until I make it big time, and then I can list published author as one of my accomplishments on a resume.
What job from your past seems totally ridiculous to you now and how is it relevant to where you are now? (Caution, the way back machine can get a little bumpy from time to time.)