"No matter your problems, face them with a bright smile and a bucket of chocolate ice-cream," nana once wisely told me. At the time, I was barely twelve and thought that I could summon a unicorn if I just believed in myself.
A decade later, despi...
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Maeva's point of view.
Ever since I stepped into college, I was taught to prepare myself for the worst. "It's a tough world out there, and you're no unique star," said the careers office clerk while tranquilly sipping on his coffee. God knows how much I tried to hold myself from breaking his stupid glasses, but I had to refrain, for I intend on sparing myself the agony of expulsion.
If we come to think about it, though, he's not entirely wrong. There are far too many people on this planet, and I'm no Thanos to snap a finger and wipe half the population away. Into the hire games I step, therefore, and may the best candidate survive the burning flames of human resources.
Six months I spent choosing color palettes, fonts, text sizes and themes, for the piece of paper called CV is the only chance one gets to catch an employer's eye. It needs to be striking, yet subtle. Different, yet conform to standards. Informative, yet concise.
Then comes the question of whether or not to include a picture. If yes, a selfie, or a passport photo? Do I mention my gender and ethnicity, or do I make a statement against employment discrimination? Do I mention my hobbies? If yes, does sleeping count?
At last, I made myself a decent CV that everyone approved of. From family to career office and friends, everyone said it was a show stopper. However, whoever saw how much effort went into writing that cursed paper would suppose that I wrote an autobiography of my hectic life as a professional undergrad. Only it turned out to be one page long, with tons of spaces and bits of design to showcase my wildly creative side. I'm barely twenty-three for crying out loud. It is only normal for my resume to be this short. Was I supposed to build a space ship and take it for a spin in between classes just to add a couple of lines under the category of previous experiences?
"I don't need a resume when you can tell me about yourself," says Mrs. Letterman, a pen loosely hanging between her fingers. Alright then. I wasted months of my life writing a good for nothing paper, no biggie. Uhm, what do I know about myself? I'm human. At least that's what I've been told. Clearing my throat, I sit upright and begin telling the story of my life:
"Maeva Anderson, book enthusiast. I believe that a nice ambiance is the perfect place to savor a book, and so I make sure to surround myself with greeneries and paintings whenever I'm about to dig my teeth into a juicy novel." I facepalm myself as I go on with my cringe-worthy presentation until the lady raises her hand and cuts me short.
"So, you're Andrew's daughter?" she asks, her eyes gleaming with excitement. From all that speech I just spat out, is that all she noted? Pft.
As I nod in approval, she gets up and runs her finger down a pile of neatly organized books. "Andrew's a regular here. If it weren't for people like him, I would've gone bankrupt a long time ago". Although she looks at me smilingly, something tells me she's up to no good. The way her lips are twitched reminds of that beam only wicked characters flash before turning the entire plot upside down.
