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 ...

Today has not been a red letter day. First, seeing that I was in need of a job I decided to apply to waitress locally. Yet I soon got a call and they asked if I could do office work. Then when I showed up to do office work, the rotund proprietor asked behind his messy desk: "How much can you lift?" Earlier, he had asked what I had been doing in England ("studying") and then asked if I had made any money writing or if it was (then he laughed) just, you know, a hobby. I left that interview thankful that at least I had a real job interview on Thursday, for a reporting position in New York. I had walked by the Nissan dealership and spoken to the young salesperson. "I won't buy a car til I get a job. This is my third interview so I feel I will probably get it." Then I got on to the computer just now and had received an e-mail from HR: "Sorry, Laurie, but Hector (not his real name) has decided to hire internally. We will retain your resume. Keep checkin...

When The New York Times published an article about the dour job prospects for women over 50, I rejoiced - not because I find such things worthy of celebration, but because I could relate. As I write this, it dawns on me that some will think it's sour grapes or there is something pathologically wrong with me. Maybe I get into job interviews and step on the interviewer's foot, show up late, smoke in the hallway or tell him all about how I like to make queer kitten sounds at the office Christmas soirée. But no, no, that's not me, and hasn't been me for all of the 23 or so job interviews I've had in this wonderful field we call journalism. What I have suffered from, though, is middle-aged woman syndrome. No longer taut, I find that projecting I can still be "taught" is tricky. Unless I'm interviewing with women my age or older, there is clear prejudice. Wait, back up, no it's not clear, it never is. I just lost out on a job I actually wasn't sur...

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...