Job hunting this year has felt less like a career move and more like a slow‑motion pratfall — complete with bruises, bubble wrap, and the occasional face‑plant. Some people collect stamps; I collect rejection emails. If job hunting were a sport, I’d be competing in the ‘falling down and getting back up’ event — and trust me, I’d medal. And because apparently, I like punishment, I keep showing up for another round.
But let’s be real — my self‑confidence doesn’t need a push to plummet; it’s practically a professional at the art of crashing on its own.
So, call it one more fall — I’ve gotten pretty good at standing back up. After last year’s streak of stumbles and mishaps, I should’ve known better… had I been smart, I would’ve just kept the Halloween bubble wrap on for this year too. But here we are the bubble wrap’s long gone, the bruises are fresh, and I’m still lurching forward like a contestant in the world’s least glamorous obstacle course. So onward I go — stumbling maybe but still moving forward.
And since I clearly enjoy self‑inflicted torture, I spent all day and most of the night yesterday sending resumes. Not just the quick “attach and click” kind, either — the ones that demand work samples, a cover letter, and a urine sample — apparently applying for marketing now requires Olympic‑level testing.
One asked for a portfolio, so I pulled together my PDF with samples and notes on what I’d done — and then roped in my Content Wingman for backup.
Together we built a template for portfolio case studies, then created four that each showcased a different skill set — campaign strategy, digital analytics, content creation, and event coordination. We also pulled together a Portfolio Overview and a handful of summary blurbs in different lengths and tones.
After that, we lined up my Core Competencies with the experience on my resume — which, by the way, is hilarious when you realize how many ways job descriptions can say the exact same thing. Or worse, spin a mashup of two skills that don’t even belong on the same playlist — like barbershop and K‑pop, or barbershop and techno. And let’s be honest, someone in the barbershop world has probably already tried one or both of those mashups — maybe even thrown in a little death metal for good measure.
Apparently, “strategic thinker with tactical execution skills” is recruiter‑speak for “we want a unicorn who can do everything, everywhere, all at once.”
I knew I should’ve stopped, but I hit a breakthrough and kept going. Every time my Content Wingman asked if I wanted another tweak, I said yes — until 4:30 a.m. when I finally shut the laptop. I fell asleep at 4:59, woke up at 10:15. A whole 5 hours and 16 minutes of sleep. Not bad for a night of resume roulette.
And honestly, there’s something weirdly satisfying about watching your own exhaustion turn into productivity — like a badge of honor for the chronically persistent. Chalk it up to being a Taurus: stubborn enough to keep grinding, determined enough to call it progress, and just bull‑headed enough to find pride in the struggle. Plus, I’m a pro at falling down rabbit holes — and this one had résumés, portfolios, and Content Wingman tweaks instead of Wonderland. Oh my!
As my good friend and mentor, Stacey Allen, and the insightful and steady‑handed SD Chorus Team Leader, Pam Murray, both pointed out — and I’ve thought more on this — that Content Wingmen (and AI in general) are now being used in many positions across all fields. It’s no longer a novelty; it’s a core competency.
Which is funny, considering this very post started as a text conversation venting about the job search grind, my Content Wingman chiming in with formatting flair, and suddenly we had the bones of a blog. And not just any blog — my first real post in over a decade. The last three were book reviews, which hardly count as “regular programming” for Living Life by the Seat of Your Pants.
Proof that even a late‑night rant can be recycled into content if you’ve got the right wingman. Apparently, my complaints are employable if they get the right formatting, even if I’m not.
Since no one in my family looks likely to hit the lottery anytime soon, I’ve got to keep up the good fight and get myself gainfully employed. Eyes on the prize, head held high, brain as free of buzzing as it can be (thanks, Tinnitus), and a return to my cock‑eyed, unicorns‑and‑rainbows‑loving optimistic self.
So, I’ll keep stumbling forward — bruised and battered, but still moving. What can I say? Three Tauruses born a day apart don’t exactly know how to quit. Upward!
