Journalism in the 21st Century

For the past two weeks I've stewed over the discomfiting feeling that my CV is not ATS-worthy. If you don't know this acronym, then bless your little heart. I didn't either until about five months ago, but now that I do know, I hate every last initial. Applicant tracking systems are designed to chuck out job applicants so HR managers don't actually have to read 257 resumes. The problem is, apparently the code or whatever it is you call it is not sophisticated enough to read a CV as it really exists. I, for example, was deemed an engineer by an ATS. Why? Because the word pops up a few times under names of publications I have written for, e.g. Engineering & Technology. Further, my alma mater is listed as my last employer. Really. None of this is amusing to me. A very skilled career counselor had approved my CV prior to this ATS debacle, and as I write this I still don't know how to fix it. I did some research and think if I re-save it as a plain text document I ...

OK, my hands are shaking as I write this. Bobs of sweat are forming on my temples. Are they bobs or globs? I don't know - I'm nervous. Just talking about stress interviews makes me crazy. As a journalist, I've been through some stressful interviews, but always sail through because I'm on the proper side of the discussion. I am asking the questions. The stress comes because: a) a PR has decided to get on the phone with us and thereby direct the interview (or try to) or b) some bigshot has decided to put me on speaker (happens fifty percent of the time) and when I ask to be taken off, acts like I have a hearing disorder or c) someone has decided he doesn't really want to answer any questions so much as suggest how I should write the story. So given all of the preceding stressful situations you'd think I'd be equipped to just show up at some suit's office, look pretty, calm, collected (what am I collecting? armpit sweat?) and sell myself. But I'm no Mar...