Resume Writing

Ujjwal. That was his name. Bright like the sun and gentle like the moon. But for the last few days, he was neither of them. He had stopped going to office and was living between his bedroom and study, working furiously on the document. The document was so bad that he had to re-write it from the scratch. He did not have to do it but was doing it any way. His heart wanted to.

More than 5 days had passed. All Ujjwal did was eat from the packet, shit in the toilet 2 feet away from his bed and type furiously, hammering away at the keyboard like a possessed person, in fact slightly more than a possessed person. The strain was very much visible on his face. He had a 4 day stubble on his face, the facial hair had started competing (in length) with the hair on his head. He ran his hand through his head and he noticed a sudden loss of thickness. That alarmed him but he had no time.

The document was of utmost importance. He had to get it out as soon as possible. It was matter of life and death. His desktop had several copies of it, starting from version 1 to Version 3E, running through a total of over 50. His desktop was clogged to an extent that he could not find the start button and his mind was pre-occupied that he forgot the very presence of a windows button on his dell laptop. “This document is making me go mad” — he said to himself.

After version 3F, he had no ideas left. He raised his hands towards the sky and asked — “Can I get some help here? Why are you doing this to me? As it is, it was very hard to fathom your absence and now, this document refuses to budge!”

He then turned to and searched. He spent the next three hours downloading copies of similarly purposed documents. Each one of them had a different format. Some of them had the objective first and the name later, some of them had the name in a water mark sans the objective and some did not even have the name. All they had was a handle and a link. He was confused. Sleep took over and he did not realise. He slept, slouched, on the chair.

He woke up with a start and immediately fell off the chair. He collected himself and washed his face. The mirror did not show any good news. Facial hair and dark spots had ravaged his face. Once a good looking guy, the last few days had taken a toll on him. He spent the day typing the content in several formats that he had downloaded off the internet. Some of them had a two column approach and some had a running paragraph approach. Ujjwal was getting tired. It was his 6th day and he was absent without leave at office. His boss had called him 25 times. His bay mate Rajeev had called him 36 times but he did not respond. He had forgotten the existence of time. And people. His stubble was growing denser and darker. He hadn’t taken a shower in the six days that he spent here and was reeking off sweat. The sweltering heat spared no mercy.

Something had terribly gone wrong a few days before Ujjwal began this document-ing exercise. It was as if all the happiness was drained from him. It was as if he came in contact with one of the dementors from the harry potter series. A few of his friends at work and outside work tried finding out but he shut himself. He began rotting from within and had no way out. His only hope, he thought, was the document that he was preparing.

The format was bothering him. He had taken a print out of the document but somewhere, something was amiss. The titles did not line up perfectly. Each section had an indentation of its own, like a life of its own. It was as if, they moved very quietly after he had saved the file and then played tricks with him on the print head. He brushed it away, blaming his lack of sleep and over imaginative head.

He crushed the paper, threw it in the bin and settled in his chair. He had decided, enough was enough. He was going to nail this down. He sat for 6 straight hours. He changed the document completely. The headings had become short and crisp, the content and its subsections, very relevant and all other supporting details were placed where they should have been. He was satisfied with his work. There was a momentary smile on his face, acknowledging the good job done but the smile vanished. The pain had re-appeared. He was falling back into the pit of darkness that had become his life in the last few days.

He printed out the final version, proof read it once and then, in a fit of rage, crushed the sheet of paper and threw it out of the window. The paper hit a passing cow with as much force as a paper could. It gently collided with the thick skinned cow and bounced off.

He went into the bathroom to have a look at himself and he did not like the sight of what he saw. There were dark circles around his eyes, where once there was joy. His lips had dead skin all over it, where once was dark red blood. His cheeks had sunk in, leaving him like one of those smokers who had smoked dozen too many and his mane was tangled. He hated the sight of himself but he realised that it was all for the pain. “No pain, No gain”, he said to himself.

He emailed the document to a few contacts from his anonymous email address. He did not want to be traced. He wanted to hide all his tracks. He wanted no mention of him and the document in the same sentence.

A few days later, Usha received a call from the Kiran, the Human resources head of a large technology firm.

Kiran — hello Usha. We’ve received your resume. Are you still interested in the opening that your resume was sent for?

Usha had been looking out for a while but did not remember applying to this particular firm. Usha responed — “Yes. I would be thrilled. Btw, can you share the detailed Job description to my mail address? Also, can you please include the mail that had my CV in it? I think it is a little dated”

Kiran — No problem. You should get both of them on your gmail address in a few minutes.

The call ended. Usha received the mail. She saw an attachment that was named “Usha_CV_4H.docx”. She opened the file and saw a beautifully formatted resume of hers. Usha knew it was Ujjwal. Usha had rejected Ujjwal 10 days back, spurning his love.

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