Death to Resumes

The situation at the shipping depot job hasn’t changed much, and I’ve been looking for other jobs to replace it. I’ve been calling different security companies and so far it’s been a dead end. I can't work an armed job because, even though I've had my pistol permit for two months, I don't trust myself with a gun. That goes back to a post I wrote last month, called A Return to Social Blogging. Though the social blog fixed that problem, I'm still cautious. Anyway, if the security company that I work for can keep the shipping depot contract for the next year or so, then there’s no problem and I’ll tough it out. But just in case it doesn’t work out, I need to land on my feet.

I’m writing this post as a reminder to myself. I read this blog everyday to recognize business patterns and discover different ways to recognize my strengths and strengthen my weaknesses. But sometimes I read this post for motivation, and that’s what this post is about. Calling to look for work is a humiliating experience. Resume writing is torture. And, when I’ll have to go on interviews, that process will be torture as well. It feels as if I’m groveling, begging someone to take notice of me and choose me to be a member of their “team”. I look at these people and know that I’m better than them and I shouldn’t need them, yet there I am asking for work. Going through this process reminds me how important it is to succeed at this real estate business. If I fail, I’ll be relegated to making the perfect resume and being a team player as a security guard or a teacher for the rest of my life, living paycheck to paycheck.

In general, there’s really nothing wrong with having a job. But for me, it’s death. People like me that have certain egos, a certain lifespan, and certain views about the world can’t work paycheck jobs. It’s like a lion being forced to walk in a straight line in the jungle. That's what I feel like whenever I have to put on this ridiculous security uniform or take orders from "superiors". If the lion is the king of the jungle, he’s gonna want to roam wherever the hell he wants to. That’s what I want. I need freedom and want to roam. Next year is the first big step to that freedom. By the end of 2013, I can finally use my resume as emergency toilet paper. Rough as it might feel, it would also be the sweetest victory I can think of.