I Stared at My CV, and My CV Stared Back
It was 3 am, and I lost control.
This story is about how I tried to create a CV that would fix my life and miraculously transform my career.
It is 8 pm, and I am in bed feeling very optimistic about the future, with my laptop softly warming my tummy. I go on Canva to find a CV template that would stand out and highlight my skills. After searching for a while and getting distracted among thousands of templates, I narrowed down and filtered my search. I found myself frantically typing “Minimal CVs,” “Formal CVs,” “Simple CVs”, and “Black and White CVs” because we don’t want to overwhelm recruiters with crazy colours and shapes, and this is not a pre-school assignment. My CV should keep the focus on me, right? Also, we want to look “serious”. But where’s the perfect balance? I have no idea.
I picked a template that is both formal and has some aesthetic. However, I don’t like the layout. I started tweaking it, playing with the shapes and colours like play dough, removing some, changing the colours, and adding some of the elements I liked from other templates until I ended up creating my own little freaky FrankinCV, a postmodern chaos of eight different design languages and fonts ready to colour its hair and rebel against society. I don’t like the mess I have just made; I do a Cmd+A and delete everything. It is almost 11:00 pm, and I stare at a blank page. My will to fix my life has gone by now. I do more digging on Canva, hoping to find something that would fit and reflect me, but I get lost in options, and it does not work, so I decided to make my template, as this is my CV and should reflect me.
I started by typing my name. Easy. Given at birth, I did not have to think much about that. Next step: fonts. There are a lot of fonts, especially if you have a premium account, But I am looking for a font that will make me look capable, skilled, and confident. Should I use Times New Roman? Will it make me look dull, or on the contrary, might I come off as a person who knows about wines and wears statement hats? Should I opt for something rounder, softer and friendlier? But would that seem too informal and less corporate? Do I even want to be corporate? I’m playful, bubbly and very quirky; shouldn’t my CV reflect that? But we want to be taken seriously, so I chose an elegant font that tells the reader I have my life together, in charge of my subscriptions and free trials, and would not cry during my lunch breaks at the toilet.
Then, without noticing, I spent an absurd amount of time deciding where to put my name — centred with thin, s p a c e d letters? Top left corner with my first name on top and my last name underneath? I tried making my first name bold and italicised my last name, but it looked weird. I typed my name in all caps. I liked it in all caps, but would people think I take myself too seriously? Is it too aggressive, as if I’m screaming my name at them? I got very distracted and started discovering fonts neither I nor anyone will ever use; while going through every font ever made, I lost the ones that might have been helpful. Feeling overwhelmed, I finally settled on putting my name in the top left corner and my address and contact info in the top right corner, and made some progress.
Then came the most challenging part: the “About Me” section. I usually avoid this like the plague because I hate talking about myself. I’ve never included a personal description in any of my CVs. I can’t describe my capabilities without feeling like an imposter. Even though I’m telling the truth, it just doesn’t feel real. Google it — imposter syndrome is a real thing. I constantly doubt myself; deep down, I think I am ordinary and simple. But then I get mad; I’ve spent a year writing copies for car tyres and industrial ovens, making them sound cool. Am I less worthy and interesting than a CAR TIRE? I should hope not. Should I mention in my CV that I made car tyres attractive? I convinced people to buy car tyres; why can’t I convince you for an interview?
To avoid the “About Me” section, I discarded the whole template, deleted everything, and went downstairs to the kitchen to stare at the refrigerator light and nibble on cheese bites. It is 3 am and a cloud of disappointment settles over me. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was nibbling on cheese like a nocturnal animal or if it was the realisation that no template could make me look worthy or capable if I was not enough. Another absurd amount of time passed in the kitchen, questioning if I was enough and what type of enough I was. Am I Amazon enough or “we are a family here” company enough?
Eating enough cheese to upset my IBS, with my bowels and brain both on high alert, I knew it was time to come up with a plan. I am not a Times New Roman person. No, I’m my own cute, quirky font, and everything I put on a blank document should reflect that, and I should go to sleep now.
I spent a lot of time trying to come up with a résumé because I was trying to create someone who didn’t exist. I still haven’t come up with a new CV because, right now, I’m rebranding myself and organising my thoughts. But when I do feel ready to make one, it will be all about me.
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