The demeaning business of CV writing

Is there anything more demeaning than CV writing? “Here: This is my life. As you can see I’ve managed to scrap together some useful bits which might make me an acceptable enough specimen to be in your presence. Perhaps I could even, like, help? Please?”


Do you put in those subjects whose hours of dross you sat through and wrote notes on often enough to be actually graded occasionally in red pen but that, regardless of this effort, you eventually cocked up on exam day anyway? Is a music GCSE relevant to an office job? Why did that bloody bald teacher whose head went red when he shouted get so het up, like your whole life depended on it, when, years later, you consider just leaving the stupid single letter grade off your ‘Curriculum Vitae’ completely because it’s, at worst, embarassing and, at best, irrelevant?


School of life mate. How about: In my gap year I lost my virginity to a wonderfully tender man who cried afterwards at the beauty of it all. This taught me that not all men are cocks and so I don’t have as many issues with authority as you’d expect me to have with my domineering ram of a mother? Or how about, at Cambridge University I was frequently patronised, singled out and/or ostracised because of my ethnic heritage? This taught me the value of muttering sarcastic jokes to myself under my breath so as to keep sane and grounded in the jacked-up world of self-perpetuating elitist groups who read CVs and give you jobs.


Why the hell does anyone care what you spend your time doing outside working hours? As long as its not kid-screwing, internet embezzlement or jihad activism, who really, honestly, cares? This is just that token little nugget that they leave on the end of the task to make you believe, to make us all believe, that there is still some shred of humanity and common decency between us all which means that the hours we spend crammed together in artificially-lighted rooms with machines that are more important than us are not altogether wasted.


I refuse to play ball any longer. Interests: having sex, thinking about having sex, and sitting in dark rooms watching TED videos to gleam a sense of inspiration, excitement and wonder that my own life doesn’t have, which is why I’m job hunting you bloody moron.

Don’t get me started on cover letters.


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