What have I done?

No, I haven’t really done anything wrong, per se, but I haven’t exactly done much right, either. I’m not talking about major life choices, but about the things I have–or rather haven’t–accomplished in my working life.

I updated my resume. Made it reflect my writing accomplishments. *Thought* I’d made it reflect my job skills and accomplishments as well, but a read-through by an online resume review company basically said that I was only describing what I did, not what I accomplished. So what have I accomplished?

In nine years at the rehab hospital, I didn’t do really anything except what I was supposed to. I didn’t excel at anything except telling nurses and techs what room to go to, making copies, and simple data entry. In nine years at the eye clinic, I haven’t accomplished much of anything, either. I mean, I translated some forms into Spanish–that’s about it. Nothing special there.

How am I going to get out if I can’t prove to potential employers that I am someone worth hiring? I guess it’s off to ground zero with googling popular resume keywords…see if I can find any that technically fit what I’ve done while making it look like I accomplished something.

I’ve been tinkering with the resume off and on this morning since getting my review or whatever you want to call it. Of course, for a nominal fee, the website will help me rewrite it. For a fee. I’ll be damned if I’m going to pay someone to tell me I’m worthless. Let me figure it out my damn self, thank you very much, and let me fail on my own rather than pay you to spin things so I might or might not fail anyway.

Resumes suck. It’s so disheartening to have to quantify the things you’ve done–sorry, accomplished–over nearly a decade in one place. I mean, I can’t just say “my bosses all love me, I just hate the place.” What do I say?

That ol’ depression monster is rearing its ugly head. I can feel it. It’s dragging itself out of the mire to torment me again.

In half an hour I have to start getting ready to go back to work. Back to a job I hate. Back to purgatory. And, unless I can figure out what I’ve accomplished or how to word my deeds as accomplishments, I might just be doomed to stay there.