When Your Entire Resume Is a Joke, It’s Really NOT Funny

Summary

The author recounts a journey of self-discovery and career exploration, marked by a series of unconventional and often humorous pursuits, ultimately leading to a period of alcoholism before finding success in a children's clothing line and writing.

Abstract

The author shares a personal narrative of their struggle to find a fulfilling career path, starting with an early aspiration to become a fashion designer which was abandoned due to a lack of essential skills and interest. After considering various eclectic career options, including dog clothing designer, private investigator, and dominatrix, the author's life was sidetracked by alcoholism. Despite this challenge, they managed to work in a brokerage firm, create art, write a humor book, and eventually build a successful children's clothing business, which was later affected by the 2008 recession. The story concludes with the author turning their experiences into written content, emphasizing that unpaid endeavors can still reflect one's talents.

Opinions

The author believes that passion alone is not sufficient for a career choice, as evidenced by their love for dogs and sex not translating into professional goals.
They express a clear aversion to certain professions, such as those involving customer service, politics, and high morals, as well as roles that require constant public engagement like a princess or duchess.
The author acknowledges their own lack of motivation, enthusiasm, and serotonin, which contributed to their career indecision and reluctance to pursue acting or similar professions.
They have a humorous and self-deprecating view of their attempts at various careers, including their brief stints in bartending and real estate school, and their drunken contemplation of becoming a dominatrix.
The author reflects on their alcoholism with a mix of humor and seriousness, recognizing it as a significant obstacle that prevented personal and professional growth.
They found genuine success and fulfillment in their children's clothing line, which was inspired by their own sense of style and nostalgia, indicating a deep personal connection to this venture.
The author's tone suggests a sense of pride and accomplishment in turning their life experiences into written content, offering a reflective and humorous perspective on their journey.

When Your Entire Resume Is a Joke, It’s Really NOT Funny

Credit: BItmoji

I struggled on and off for years figuring out what to do with my life. They say do what you love. Well, I loved dogs, but I didn’t want to breed, groom, walk or train them. I also loved sex, but I realized that just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean it should be your profession.

Let’s go back in time. My first career idea came when I was eight years old. I wanted to be a fashion designer. That seemed normal, feasible, and somewhat exciting. Thirteen years later I dropped out of a graduate program at Parsons School of Design after being given a homework assignment that entailed painting 957 shades of yellow. I also couldn’t sew or draw and had previously failed a draping class where Asian students were excelling in intimidation tactics by whipping up couture origami-like gowns in ten minutes, while I could barely pin an A-line skirt on a crash dummy in three hours.

After that things went downhill.

I had a lot of ideas, but little follow through. I lacked motivation, enthusiasm and serotonin. I also wasn’t good at pretending, which is why I never considered becoming an actress. I couldn’t even fake an orgasm — partly because I’m lazy, but mostly because I’m just not that nice.

People threw ideas at me. “Why don’t you . . .” fill in the blank with anything awful. One suggestion I got several times was to design clothes for dogs. I’m not sure what about me screamed ‘dog clothing designer’ to others, but regardless I would never design clothes for an animal — that’s just ridiculous to me. Other things I never considered were anything having to do with hospitality or customer service, a hot air balloon pilot, anything to do with a cruise ship, politics, high morals, or Veganism. I also could never be a princess or duchess as the chronic smiling/waving thing looked exhausting. And god forbid you got caught smoking a cigarette or making out with the royal pool boy, then next thing you know your bad behavior is memorialized on every social media site in the world, and someone named “The Queen” hates your guts.

So, what did I do?

In no particular order, I on and off threatened to become a lawyer, a private investigator, a lingerie designer, and a race car driver. I also considered being a travel writer, a foot model, and a forensic psychologist. I went to bartending school and real estate school and never worked a day doing either. When I was 23 I rambled on and on about becoming a dominatrix over a four hour drunken dinner in New York City with of all people — my mother. Finally, I became an alcoholic.

Well, technically I was probably an alcoholic from birth, but we can argue about that later. Anyway, once that was official, I couldn’t do anything else because I was too busy. Too busy drinking and recovering and acting stupid and wasting time. Escapism was a full-time job. All I wanted to do was not feel and not grow up. I was somewhat successful. In other words, I aged but did not evolve. It’s called alcoholism, look it up.

Well, I did do some things. I worked at a brokerage firm as a sales assistant and wrote a novel at my desk. I left for lunch one day and went to the zoo and never came back.

I became an artist. I put paint on my boobs and pressed them against a canvas. I waited to get discovered.

I let someone named Pericles draw me nude. Well, I had to pay him for that, but anyway . . .

I self-published a short humor book called Girls Are Weird. I made $3030 and acquired two stalkers.

At 26 I hit a bottom and decided to get sober. After six months of not drinking I started my own business designing and selling kids clothes. I used my juvenile sense of style and nostalgia from my childhood to create whimsical pieces that girls loved and that I wished I was still young enough to wear. I was very successful. That lasted ten years until the recession of 2008 put me out of business. I didn’t like kids anyway, but that’s not the point.

What the fuck was I supposed to do now?

Then it came to me. I recalled all my wonderful, joyous work/non-work memories and wrote about them, and congratulations you just read them. Thank you for your time. And remember, just because you’re not getting paid doesn’t mean you’re not good at something.