Everyone wants their resume to stand head and shoulders above the crowd, but that’s not always an easily accomplished feat! There are several crucial things you should take into consideration when building an impressive resume, including; legibility, relevance, and concise content, to name a few! It’s also important to take the Works Wizard Paperclip into account, as his ruthlessly violent side-quests have felled many a brave slob. No, you do NOT need help. Do NOT take his favors, as the payment on them is steep, and his vengeance merciless. This will be your only warning.
Here are some helpful tips to help make your resume shine brighter than the rest!
1. Pick a clear, legible font in a reasonable size. Decorative is fun, but this is not the place to show off your deep devotion to Curls MT or Papyrus.
2. Just pick one font, Gabby. You don’t need a new one for each line. That’s nauseating, and you’re gross.
3. Use exciting language! You didn’t ‘do the inventory’ you ‘captained a fleet of office supplies.’
4. Bullet points are key! Quite a few hiring managers are afraid of long sentences, especially from women.
5. The longer the word, the more it belongs in your resume, so crack open that thesaurus and start bedazzling!
6. Make sure the information you present is relevant. Your prospective employer doesn’t need to know about your severe alcoholism… yet.
7. Be extremely cautious when padding your resume, often it’s like adding a sock to your crotch. In the long run, it’s embarrassing for everyone.
8. Use spellcheck. Your spelling is an abomination.
9. Do NOT make eye contact with the Works Wizard Paperclip. I cannot stress this strongly enough. He is a treacherous villain, and you want nothing to do with him.
10. Pick a nice paper to print out your resume. Remember, just like when interviewing for the job, the whiter it appears, the better!
Now that you’ve crafted the perfect resume, all that’s left is to apply to numerous soul-crushing corporate entities that will steal the profits of your labor and render you near-penniless for the privilege of slaving for an old white man and his favorite logo. Good luck getting health-care!
Next time on 10 Tips: The Best Places to Sleep While Waiting for Government Aid
Luke Maurer was born in 1987, to a loving set of parents. His mum, a gleaming bottle of anxiety pills, and his doting dad, an entire loaf of Wonder-brand white milk bread, have always been extremely proud of their little Snowflake.
I don’t call Luke a Snowflake because he’s particularly left, I say it because he’s nearly translucent in complexion.
He was raised as a Quaker, on a farm (I assume). He met his first girlfriend at a barn-raising when he was 14. (And, boy, could she raise more than a barn! Am I right?!?! Wink, wink… Why did I write this part?!?)
Annnnywhhoooo - One day, as he was rolling his hula-hoop down the dirt road near his farm he thought, “There must be more to life than this!” So, he put on his best Sunday clothes, packed up his good handkerchief and scythe and marched himself to the ‘big city;’ Eugene, Oregon.
Dream big, kiddo.
Luke gets his name from the Biblical historian, the one who authored the life of Christ in a dickens-esque tedium of detail. Which is EXACTLY what they say about Maurer’s dissertation.
Luke Maurer is so white… That he looks like he’s been freshly carved out of Styrofoam.
If you ever get tired of Comedy, you can always parley that look into 1/4 of a decently accurate Barbershop Quartet.
Luke has been an incredible friend, and a constant regular in the Eugene scene, which is odd, since he’s best known for looking like an extra off the set of West Side Story.
When you’re a jet, you’re a jet all the way?
Luke is so anal… He’s so anal, I’d think that were his sexual fetish, if I didn’t know FOR SURE that his sexual fetish is really going to be over-analyzing everything said here tonight. Over and over and over and over…
Luke almost always has a look of horror and confusion on his face, as though his soul is the reincarnated violinist from the Titanic.
Luke is always a bit uptight, a bit reserved… let’s call him ‘Socially British.’ I want to tell him to ‘throw caution to the wind,’ but I know that’s just going to lead to a million questions about the direction and strength of the wind, the current temperature and atmospheric pressure and overall climate patterns… :::Blow Out Brains:::
I love you dearly. SO much, in fact, that I forgive you for asking me if fucking a fat girl is like fucking a normal girl. And, for anyone that is wondering, the answer is, “No. Fucking a fat girl is MUCH better than fucking a normal girl. You know we swallow, ‘cause PROTEIN, duh. AND you know we’re getting breakfast after.
So, please join me in wishing Dr. Luke Maurer all the luck, adventure, pleasure, nonsense, and general debauchery he can stand. Never look back.
So, you want to start ‘doing Comedy…’
Begin by writing three to five minutes of original jokes. Five minutes of material is about two-and-a-half typed pages. If you don’t quite make five minutes, that’s a good thing, it leaves room for laughs (think optimistically). Take the jokes to a mic. Rinse and repeat, and repeat, and repeat.
Every mic is different.
Watch a couple before you sign up if you’re nervous about the timing or host, or just want to get a feel for the room. There’s no shame in watching open mics, other than the shame attached to watching Comedy open mics. Know the rules of the room and adhere to them. Don’t burn the light. Tip at least a dollar on all drinks, even the comped ones. Respect designated smoking and parking areas. Go to all the mics, try every kind of joke, any kind of Comedy you’re drawn to. It’s an experiment: ‘What do people think is funny?’
You can’t sell what you don’t have.
Write good jokes. There are awesome writing groups that can help you with structure, timing, intent, and twist, but you can only tell jokes that you’ve written, so, write good jokes.
Know your jokes. Perform the jokes until you dream them. You have to know the jokes to be able to work them. Tell the jokes in front of every audience, from packed to non-existent.
Don’t take a booking until you’re ready. Usually wait until the later half of your first year. Some people are ‘naturals.’ Most aren’t. Regardless, everyone needs to learn the nuance of working with an audience, and you only get that with experience.
Don’t steal material.
10 minutes is the average for an opening set, it’s a long time to fail publicly.
For the first year that you’re ‘doing Comedy’ you should be working on a good 10 minutes of material. That’s all. The whole first year, craft a memorable, hilarious, not-to-be-missed, 10-minute set of funny things you’re dying to say. At the end of the year, take that 10 minutes, cut it to the leanest, meanest 5 minutes ever, get a good audience and tape that set. It may take a few tapings to get a good one, but it’s worth the trouble. That’s the five minute video you send with festival applications and to showcase bookers. Then get head-shots and set up a Comedy page on the social media platform(s) of your choice, write a short bio. Congrats. You now ‘do Comedy.’
Work hard. Love the grind.
I don’t really know anything else…