Twenty Something

A monthly column for young adults

By Christina Capecchi   

Don’t let your résumé become your identity

I arrived at the career fair with high hopes, 20 résumés and dozens of story ideas turning in my mind. 

I had prepared meticulously, ironing my suit, straightening my hair, frying everything into submission. I had memorized the morning’s news, donned my glasses for a scholastic effect and applied a dab of lip gloss. I was set.

The recruiters quickly lowered my lofty expectations. The heavy hitters weren’t exactly interested. Neither were the middle-of-the-roaders. The warmest reception I got came from the editor of a teensy-tiny paper offering a year-long internship for meager pay and no benefits. Is that all I’m worth? I wondered as I filed into a long line.

Finally my turn came to talk to the recruiter of a big-time paper where I had applied for an internship. My application had arrived with that much-hyped distinction, the recommendation of a staff member, and I was eager to follow up with an in-person introduction.

The recruiter spent less time reading my résumé than it had taken to print, proceeding to point out everything it lacked. “Come back in 10 years,” she growled.

As I walked home, a car raced by, splattering mud on my heels and shins. It felt like a physical expression of the emotional damage the fair had reaped.

The job hunt can be a rude awakening to young adults with super-supportive parents and super-expensive degrees. Not only are many head hunters hostile, so is much of the job-searching advice.

“Your present résumé is probably much more inadequate than you now realize,” cautions one website. “A job often attracts between 100 and 1,000 résumé s these days, so you are facing a great deal of competition.”

“No jewelry is better than cheap jewelry,” another site asserts. And when selecting attire, “avoid rayon blends.”

Of course, that’s presuming you’re lucky enough to land an interview. There are a gazillion ways to fatally botch a résumé: failing to state an objective, foolishly stating a hobby, overlooking a typo.

And whatever you do, don’t you dare use high-quality résumé paper: “Employers HATE pretentious parchment paper. They think they’re phony and toss them out.”

That is, be polished, but not too polished. Get it?

I’m watching friends conform to these standards, stripping their colorful, three-dimensional personalities to black bullet points. So much is lost between the gifts we possess and the credentials we submit.

The good news is our faith defies all these silly rules. Enough with the generic verbs and padded résumés, St. Paul writes: “Stop lying to one other another…Here there is not Greek and Jew, slave and free, but Christ is all and in all.”

While career consultants preach neutrality (one ring per hand, light makeup), St. Paul urges us to pile it on liberally. “Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”

While career consultants induce panic, St. Paul instills peace: “Let the peace of Christ control your hearts. And be thankful.”

We are thankful because we have been granted the greatest mission on earth. No matter what company name is stamped on our paychecks, we are ambassadors of Christ, “heralds impelled by the Gospel,” as Pope Benedict XVI put it last month.

God overlooks our typos, seeing us for who we are – and who we might become.

When we seek his kingdom first, everything else is added onto us. Take it from me: I survived that awful career fair one year ago, and four months later, the big-time paper that had rejected me ran my article on its front page.

Christina Capecchi is a freelance writer from Inver Grove Heights, Minn. E-mail her at christinacap@gmail.com.