I Ran Into an Old Version of My Resume

I ran into an old version of my resume last weekend. I was cleaning out a storage container from the basement, one mostly full of electronics from at least a decade ago.

Quality use of storage space, Annie! Not.

Amongst the ZIP disk and the TI-85 was a lovely, leather resume holder. And inside – gasp! – were a bundle of my old resumes. As in, old old. As in, from 9 years ago when I was a senior in college and searching for that elusive full-time job.

I was a senior in college 9 years ago.

9 years ago? Yup, that was my last year of college.

Excuse me while I go puke.

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I ran into an old version of my resume, and it made me want to puke.

That would have been a much shorter story, don’t you think?

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I ran into an old version of my resume. I read it over. It included such things as a “current” and “permanent” address section. Aww. Back in the day when ‘ole Mom and Dad’s was the only permanent address you had. Remember those days? How lovely.

And speaking of lovely, it also included an objective statement. Want to hear it? Brace yourself:

To obtain a demanding, hands-on, full-time position in information systems, consulting, or programming.

HAHA. HA! HAHAHAHAA. Ahem.

Sorry. I’m done now.

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I ran into an old version of my resume. It included an objective statement that made me laugh.

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I ran into an old version of my resume. It included an objective statement that I accomplished to the letter. Little did I know, 9 years after I wrote it, the crazy, non-conforming, resume-laughing-at adult I would quickly become.

How does one person morph into something so completely different over the course of less than a decade? How is that possible? I’m still the same person, I think. Just…different.

What’s that quote? Something about “You will be the same person in 5 years, aside from the books you read and the people you meet,” I think? Yeah, that.

The books you read, you say? I guess that explains it.

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I ran into an old version of my resume. It made me laugh. And gasp. And reminisce.

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I ran into an old version of my resume, and it included a line under Activities that said I was involved in a club called Greeks Against Rape.

Huh? I was? I mean, I was a part of the greek system, that I most definitely remember. And as a student I would of course considered myself someone against rape in any way, shape, or form. But a member of a club? Specifically for greek system members against rape? Did we, umm, meet at all? Ever?

Why don’t I recall a single, lone detail about this activity from my college days?

Wait. Don’t answer that.

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I ran into an old version of my resume. It was…awesome.

Its featured applicant enjoyed reflecting on its words, its meaning, and the growth made since it was created.

And then she promptly sent it to the shredder.