My first instinct was to panic. When news broke that Myers had dismissed a senior executive on his first day for a resume they regarded more a work of fiction than a statement of fact, I feared the worst. For upon being told that somebody’s CV is inaccurate, I am loathe to judge. Some may regard such documents as a sacrosanct regurgitation of times, places and events. I, on the other hand, consider my curriculum vitae to be something of a creative wonderland; one in which I can let my imagination run wild before sitting down for a short break and running some more. But if the tide has finally turned against unlicensed creative license, then allow me to take the initiative and set the record straight.
My first instinct was to panic. When news broke that Myers had dismissed a senior executive on his first day for a resume they regarded more a work of fiction than a statement of fact, I feared the worst. For upon being told that somebody’s CV is inaccurate, I am loathe to judge. Some may regard such documents as a sacrosanct regurgitation of times, places and events. I, on the other hand, consider my curriculum vitae to be something of a creative wonderland; one in which I can let my imagination run wild before sitting down for a short break and running some more. But if the tide has finally turned against unlicensed creative license, then allow me to take the initiative and set the record straight.
Contrary to any impression my resume might create, I did not invent Blu Tack. I have, however, used Blu Tack over a number of years – even in rental properties that had a strict ‘No Blu Tack’ policy – but cannot in good conscience claim credit for its development and subsequent commercial sale. It is true that I developed a technique for removing unwanted Tack from wallpaper which revolved around forming a big blue ball and using it as a sponge. To date, I’ve never seen anyone equal my Blu Tack removal skills. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I reinvented Blu Tack rather than invented it at first instance. When you read my curriculum vitae, I strongly suggest you delete the second line on the first page.
Technically, officially and in every other sense, I was never a touring member of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. That said, I have seen Nick and his band on several occasions and own several suits. I also have a t-shirt with ‘Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ on it, so when I claim that I’m ‘in’ the band, that’s true about once a fortnight when I work through my t-shirt rotation system. Frankly, near enough ought to be good enough on that one. But for those killjoys who insist on interpreting everything literally, perhaps you should skip page two.
When you get to the third paragraph on the third page, disregard it completely. I have never been nominated for an Academy Award. Frankly (and if we’re being honest) you’ve only yourself to blame if you believed that one. I doubt very much there’s a category for ‘Best On-site Catering In A Short Film – Animated’. I’ve long thought that the less heralded occupations in the film making industry should get their fair share of the limelight. Indeed, the Oscars would be a whole lot more enjoyable if the guy who’d just taken out ‘Best Gaffer’ was allowed to make a speech.
I was not a junior tennis champion. My house is not cluttered with trophies and medallions, the souvenirs of a blossoming career cut cruelly short by a freak second-knuckle injury that forced me to instantly retire. I did have a number of tennis lessons at the Tyabb tennis court beside the V-Line track and remain the record holder for ‘Most Balls Lobbed Over the Fence into the Path of an On-Coming Freight Train’. Which, if it doesn’t make me a ‘champion’ per se, at least makes me something of a legend, even if I do say so myself (and I do). I did, however, have the disposition of a junior tennis champion. This involved tipping over chairs and arguing with adults on a regular basis before storming off either to the change room (where one was available) or the chook sheds.
Johnny Young, to the best of my knowledge, has never bestowed the title of ‘Honorary Cast Member’ on anyone and, if he has, he certainly didn’t throw that accolade in my direction. If only. Surely the ultimate stamp of approval from Johnny would beat an Order of Australia hands down and even give a knighthood a serious run for its money. I long for a day when I have the initials, ‘HCM – YTT’ after my name instead of an ordinary full stop. Consequently, pay no attention to the second half of page four.
There is no such thing as the ‘Herve Villachez Award for Short Fiction’, although I dearly wish there was. Please delete any reference to it. Ditto the ‘MC Hammer Prize for Poetry’. The ‘Little Lebowski Urban Achievers Award’ is something I saw in a movie once and not a prize I actually received. The keys to the city of Tyabb were never formally bestowed on me, largely owing to the fact that the town has an ‘open door’ policy. I am not the reason The Beatles split, but I am spending a lot of time trying to encourage One Direction to do the honourable thing and break up so that they can fulfil their ultimate destinies by getting jobs in the fast food restaurant of their choice.
My interests do not include reading, bushwalking or helping animals. I can barely remember the last time I even left the house except to go to work or the shops, much less read anything that wasn’t on the internet. The Hungry Kids of Hungary is not so much a charity I support as it was a band I liked until they stupidly chucked it all in and broke up. In fact, now that I think about, if you could walk to the kitchen and set fire to my CV in the sink, you’d be doing me a HUGE favour.
Better yet, forget I ever sent it to you. Delete it from your hard-drive and expunge it forever from your memory. Pretend we never met. Because, after all, who of us can truly say that we know another human being? Particularly after reading their curriculum vitae. So, if after reading this you still want to employ me, feel free to drop me a line. Just don’t tell me anything about yourself. I won’t believe a word.