When I got laid off in June, it sent me into a tailspin of anxiety, not just because I had lost my job, but because I would need to embark on something that a truly hate: looking for a new job.

It didn’t help that the voice in my head was saying, “this is your own fault for not keeping up with your skills. You should have maintained your network. You should always be looking!”

The voice in my head is a dick but he’s not wrong.

I have a job right now, which is great but for once I’m trying to take my asshole inner critic’s advice and stay current. I’m going to maintain my resume.

The problem with keeping my skills and network and resume current is, well, I’m too busy working or doing that thing we all do when we’re not working. Last time I checked it was called, “living a life.” So, it’s hard to get psyched up to do a job search at the end of the day I spent at the job I already have.

Besides, I hate looking through job listings and discovering all of the new buzzwords that are currently in vogue in my field. I also hate the knot in the pit of my stomach when I realize I don’t have experience in any of those areas. And I picture myself at the job interview, “No, I don’t know knapsack or flapjack. I’ve heard of BubbleWrap but I haven’t had a chance to use it. Curbside.js? Walnut? Ant farm? No, but I’m willing to learn!”

Here’s the thing: I believe in myself but I’m really bad at convincing other people to believe in me.

I’ve worked as a web developer in New York City since 1999. I don’t have a CS degree, but I learned on the job. My timing was perfect given the dot com boom and I had some great mentors at my first job at a place called Concrete Media, but I’ve kept my skills current and I’ve worked steadily in the twenty-five years since.

I’m not a brain surgeon or a MacArthur Fellow but I’m smart enough to help solve problems. I have enough interpersonal skills to work in a team. I don’t leave people hanging when there’s a lot of work to be done.

Sure, I can be edgy when deadlines come and I’m prone to perfectionism (that is neither a flex nor a humble brag, perfectionism generally means I can stare at my screen for hours as my mind reels about the best possible way to go about something) but I’m a good employee.

That’s my bottom line. I’m a good employee. I can help.

Unfortunately, I can’t seem to translate that to a resume that will appeal to hiring managers.

Resumes are like headshots. It’s ostensibly a very simple thing. It’s a picture of your face. End of story. But show it to fellow actors and casting agents and they’ll all have very different opinions and really nuanced (nit-picky) takes on it. Your eyes don’t look warm enough. Is that how you’re going to wear your hair? You’re not showing your teeth. Here, smile. Okay, maybe not showing your teeth is a good thing.

It’s the same with resumes. Every tip I’ve ever gotten tells me to quantify my accomplishments. I improved efficiency by 38%. I decreased project costs but 23%.

Well, I didn’t do that stuff because that’s not what I do. I don’t leverage, I don’t optimize, I don’t lead, and I am rarely oriented: neither “detail-” nor “goal-.” I don’t maximize results. I’ve implemented some solutions every now and again, but I’ve never synergized in my life.

I’m a front-end web developer. I write code. So, that’s what my resume looks like.

What did you do at this company?

I coded.

Okay, how about this other company.

I also coded.

And this one right after college?

I integrated our sales and marketing teams to increase revenue but 80% year of over year.

Really?

No, fuckstick, I coded!

I don’t even think a resume is always necessary. It’s not what I look at when I need someone to do a job.

Two years ago, I oversaw a major plumbing project in my building. We chose a reputable company through word of mouth and advertising, not any resumes. We had a problem. The plumbers diagnosed it, brainstormed solutions, and then went about their work. And at the end we had a brand-new drain that ran from the alley behind our building, under our building to the city’s sewer system. They did a great job.

How the hell would that fit on a resume?

So, what did you do for that Park Slope apartment building?

I, uh, I plumbed.

It’s the same with other professions.

So, Doctor, tell me about your thirty years of private practice.

Well, uh, a patient would come in and I would look in all of their holes, then listen to their insides, and try to figure out what was wrong without cutting them open. Then I’d prescribe drugs. If the drugs didn’t work, I would send them to another doctor to cut them open.

Counselor, how would you most aptly describe your law practice.

Huh, well… I, uh, I either write or interpret incredibly complicated language. And then after that, I try to catch people in the act of getting away with some shit by either writing or interpreting some incredibly complicated language.

Do you know what I would really love?

I would love to just have a note card that reads, “did my fucking job,” and that would be my resume. Because it’s true and I can stand by that. I don’t have to dress anything up. I’ve worked before. I’ll work again. I can work for you. But you really can’t know what kind of worker I am until you hire me.

Of course, the interview would be a disaster…

So, it says here on your resume that you did your fucking job. Tell me about that.

Oh, absolutely. In my career, I’ve always strived to do my fucking job.

So, what interests you about Vandelay Industries?

It’s a job. I currently don’t have a job and I would like one. I’ve had jobs in the past and I did them. I can do a job again.

Can you tell me about a time that you faced a challenge?

Oh, sure. One time I woke up and felt kind of groggy and I didn’t want to do my fucking job. But then I realized I’m a grown ass man with bills and rent. So, I went into work, and I did my fucking job.

What’s exciting you in the field right now?

Whatever buzzwords you want to hear that will land me the fucking job.

Wow. Excellent, me too. Any questions for me?

Do you like this fucking job?

You know what? Yeah. Yeah, I like it but can I just tell you that things get pretty crazy around here!

I assure you that’s not true. It’s just a fucking job.

You’d be surprised.

Oh yeah? So, you deal with interoffice politics, decisions from upper management that send everyone into crisis mode, and industry standards that make no sense at first but become second nature to the point that when you mention them to friends at parties you get blank stares?

Um, yeah… yeah, that’s basically it.

Yeah, it’s a fucking job.

Well, we’ll be in touch!

Will you?

No.

That right there, that’s the real block I’m feeling: fear of rejection.

I hate putting down what I do on paper because it doesn’t look like much. I coded. That’s what I did. It’s not just how I filled my days and made a living, it’s how I’ve spent my life.

Look, I’m a work to live kind of guy, so, it’s not that I’m disappointed that I’m not a major player in my field. And I like the work itself. It’s interesting and kind of cool and I’m lucky that I get to do it.

But this whole process can feel like a trial. Prove yourself! Demonstrate your value! We don’t have all day!

Hey, man, I coded.

Yeah, that’s about it.

Okay.

Thank you for your time.