When I was in high school, I excelled at the classes like math and science. In fact, the only challenge I got from my algebra and pre-calculus classes was finishing the test before a fellow classmate, and then waiting to see which of us made fewer errors (of which there was rarely more than a couple).

Yet, somehow I managed to graduate high school without completing a single formal writing assignment. You know, those 25-page papers you hear about through junior high and high school and dread the entire time. I don’t recall ever writing one.

Calculus was a bit more challenging. Derivatives, limits, integrals challenged me enough to the point I spent some quality time with my teacher... who, to this day, is one of my favorite teachers. He understood the math well enough to explain to us in terms we could understand and taught us how to do it the long way before showing us the shortcuts... and ultimately letting us use calculators. He was determined we grasp the concepts—something that my college professors did not care about. He wanted us to be able to work through any problem we encountered by giving us the ability to break it down.

So, in college, I fancied becoming an engineer. Now, I had some fantastic college professors as well... but my Calculus teacher was essentially pissed off at the world because she couldn’t get an engineering job. She opened the class with, “This is the calculator I’ll be using. If you don’t purchase the same one, you won’t be able to keep up.” In hindsight, maybe she worked for Texas Instruments.

While I did well at the science classes and struggled with my 7 a.m. Calculus classes, I had an epiphany. Math is essentially black and white. There is one (or occasionally more) answer, that’s it. You’re right or you’re wrong. Realizing that enabled me to excel at the writing and history classes I was taking at the time.

I reinvented myself. At that point, I was bored with math and science... so I switched gears. My fascination with writing and history grew. For a minute, I wanted to become a lawyer. Everything in the legal arena is interpretation. I devoured every book I could find about persuasion and winning arguments.

In Academia, reinventing yourself is easy. You meet with your mentor/advisor. You tell him/her what’s on your mind. You make the change. Sometimes you get a new mentor/advisor. You get a new class load. You take classes. You eventually graduate (hopefully).

Fast forward to my professional career. It is much more difficult to get “bored” and reinvent yourself. Having worked many years as a developer and programmer, I’m finding it challenging getting a new start using the design and marketing experience I’ve picked up over the years through osmosis.

I feel anyone who glances at my résumé is matching the experience to the job description using an algorithm—either consciously or unconsciously—not finding the match, and moving on without any other consideration.

I get it. There are many jobs out there, but there are many more people out there looking for them. Yes, I get that many of those people are more qualified than I, but I also realize that some of the more qualified people will not attack the job with the vigor and passion as I. So, how do I convey that in a résumé and cover letter?

That, my friends, is the next frontier. I want to step up my marketing game? It must start with me.

This. This is my year. I will reinvent. I will succeed. Stay tuned.

What i'm listening to:

Me or the Rumours
Deon Estus
Spell