The
Secrets of Writing
Executive-Level Resumes
![]()
By Douglas B.
Richardson ![]()
Can
we talk...before you write your resume, that great magnum opus that lauds your
life, bowls me over with your accomplishments and tells me that you're unique?
Assume
I'm a prototypical resume reader: a headhunter, recruitment coordinator, ad
screener, human-resources assistant and hiring manager rolled into one. You'll
save a lot of grief by understanding the basic principles of how I process your
resume.
How
I Think
I'm
not a bad person, and I try to do my job responsibly. However, I won't abandon
my human nature and treat you with saintly objectivity. If you annoy me and I
retaliate by discarding your resume, there's no appeal. No one double-checks my
judgment or rummages through the trash and pleads, "Please! Save this
resume!" You're gone, pal.
Discarded
resumes usually fall into two categories: those that try my patience and those
that tax my credulity. Resumes in the first category usually don't receive
enough attention to merit entry into the second group. So let's be clear from
the outset. If you fail to respect my time, make me impatient, try to con me,
exaggerate or misrepresent, your resume is history, and so are your chances of
employment with my company.
The
First Great Principle
Look,
I'm busy -- always. So please, all you resume writers, give me a break. Our ad
pulled 258 other responses, all of which have to be screened by Monday. I
received resumes that are eight pages long with tiny margins, hand-lettered
with Olde Englishe calligraphy, printed on bright purple paper or bound in
simulated leather. I received 26 replies from "bottom-line oriented,
shirt-sleeves go-getters," and 14 from candidates who want "a
challenging position in a progressive company that will allow me to utilize my
skills and experience, grow in my career and (oh, yes!) contribute to the goals
of the company." I have to read them all. Some fun.
The
harsh reality is that no matter how much time and effort you put into writing
your resume, it won't get a thorough reading the first time through. Initially,
I'll scan it for 25 seconds. On the basis of that cursory review, I'll
determine whether yours should hit the round file or merit more thoughtful
reading -- perhaps three minutes' worth. Scanning is tougher for me if your
resume is hard to read, poorly organized or weighs more than a pound. I like
wide margins, clean type (at least 10 or 12 point), clear headings, a logical
format, bold and italic typeface that helps guide my eye, and selective use of
bullets calling attention to important points. (Remember, a bullet is an aggressive
visual stunt which says, "Look here! Now!" Twenty bullets in a row
dilute the effect.)
Many
experts believe a resume shouldn't exceed two pages. Some candidates use this
rule as an excuse to load up the two pages like a rush-hour subway train. They
resort to minuscule margins, and apply a Moby Dick narrative style to sweep
into a detailed personal history ("I was born at an early age, and from
that day forth I had a dream…"), replete with adjectives, adverbs and
polysyllabic words. This makes for hard reading.
Where's
the Beef?
If,
when reading a resume, my eyes can fly down the page, stopping naturally on
highlighted information, a little voice in my head says. "Thank you for
understanding my job and how bored I get scanning all these resumes." By
understanding my needs, you've kindled a little warmth in me. It can't hurt.
The
most readable format isn't a substitute for content that doesn't deliver. It's
not my job to be charitable. It's to be suspicious, cynical and conservative.
This is to prevent us from hiring a pig in a poke. We're professional risk
reducers! We look at everything in terms of risk: Who trusted yea before? Was
their judgment trustworthy? What did they trust you with? How long did they
trust you? What responsibilities did they give you? Did you do anything with
those duties? (I can make you responsible for flying to the moon, but did you
get there?)
We
resume readers live in fear that a glossy presentation may mask real problems
with performance, personality or potential. We've been lied to in every
conceivable way. One candidate claimed to be "a marketing representative
for a major multinational transportation goods and services company." In
reality, he sold snow tires at the Harrisburg, Pa., Goodyear tire outlet. We
know you're trying to put your best foot forward, and we respect honest
attempts to polish your apple. But we fear that underneath it all lies a rotten
apple -- or worse, no apple at all.
So
don't take our ritual joust personally. You can brag as effectively as
possible, but I'll try to poke holes in your claims. I'll look for excuses to
screen you out, not in. If you survive the first pass, I'm pleased. I'm not out
to get you. I'm out to reduce that stack of 258 resumes to five.
Make
it to the second round, and I'll get out the fine-toothed comb and the BS
meter. Does your sequence of employment, advancement and accomplishments make
sense? Do I detect a note of defensiveness in an abstract phrase like,
"Left after 14 years to seek new career challenges"? Did you make too
many changes? On the plus side, did you consistently seek responsibility and
new challenges? Did you stay for the right amount of time in each position? If
you survive this round, you win our joust and go to the castle to meet the
princess.
A
Clear Direction
What
I'm looking for most is a clear-cut sense of career direction and momentum --
or at least valid reasons why you made your job choices and changes. Don't
assume, therefore, that if you dump a bunch of unorganized data on my desk,
I'll fill in the gaps to make sense out of your past. That's your job.
Start
by asking if you're spending too much time describing what you want, not what
the company wants. Consider the time-honored practice of writing an objective.
Who cares about your objective?
For
instance, "Objective: Growth-oriented position in an innovative, friendly
environment leading to management responsibility." We're looking for
attributes that define you as a product capable of meeting the company's needs
and priorities. Do you really think this abstract mush helps me understand what
you're good for? What kind of "environment"? Manufacturing?
Nonprofit? Sales? Management of what? Human resources? Community affairs?
C'mon, help me out here!
Saying
"My objective is..." is the same as saying, "I want." Since
I'm more interested in what you offer than what you want, describing the
product -- you -- in terms of a Profile or Summary of Qualifications makes more
sense. Within the first few seconds, I want to know five things:
1.
Your current level. Level
is generally measured in terms of years of experience, title or other
responsibility, which may tell me how flat or steep your learning curve is and
how much I'll have to pay you.
To provide this information, a concise
synthesis will do nicely:
PROFILE: 15 years of diverse general
management, operations and marketing experience with regional and national
real-estate firms and a multinational electronics manufacturer. Wharton M.B.A.
with particular expertise in:
·
Real-estate asset, property and turnaround management,
leasing, marketing and operations.
· Financial planning, capital investment budgeting and pricing.
· Strategic planning, business development and market analysis.
· Recruiting, training and management of interdisciplinary work teams.
This profile serves as an executive
summary of the claims you promise to support with specific information in your
resume. It tells me what to look for and teaches me, in effect, how to read
your resume. It's not pushy or overblown; it has a nice objective ring to it. I
like that because my defenses relax (slightly).
The Elements of Style
The impression you make in the body of
the resume depends on the words and music. That is, I look both at what you
claim and how you claim it. Like a diving or gymnastics judge, I deduct points
for anything that jars my sensibilities, either in content or presentation. You
can blow it through a single, humongous gaffe (misspelling your name at the top
of page two, or claiming "Ten years of management experience" when
you've only worked seven years), or through the cumulative effect of several
small negatives. This piece of truly lousy writing would be sufficient:
Progressive experience in contribution
to success of aggressively initiated cutting-edge marketing initiatives through
numerous constituent interactions and innovative research-oriented planning
interfaces.
Whew! Score: 1.2 from the Russian
judge. More syllables do not greater credibility make. This is pompous,
verbose, turgid, self-important and grandiose. (For the record, it's
"progressively responsible," not progressive, which was a political
party based in Wisconsin in the early 1900s.)
If you want to earn my respect, skip
the varnish and adornments and let your accomplishments speak for themselves.
Pretend you get $1,000 for every adjective and adverb you leave out. Many are
"merely invisible words" that don't provide real information. They
don't register with us. We don't even see them, much less believe them. Typical
examples include: "results-oriented," "highly motivated,"
"significantly" and "dynamic."
If you must use an adjective, make
sure it's quantitative, or at least objective (all, first, new, biggest,
profitable, complete). Don't use qualitative or subjective terms: impressive,
creative, excellent, major, significant, motivated. Anyone can claim these
qualities. Since I have no way of knowing if they're true, I discount them by
at least 90%. The same holds true with such adverbs as proactively,
aggressively, innovatively, uniquely, amazingly, incredibly, universally,
cosmically and astonishingly.
I also knock off points for wimpy
verbs: aided, participated in, involved with, joined, helped
bring about. These don't tell me what you did, merely that you were there.
Start thinking and writing in past-tense transitive verbs: wrote report,
negotiated lease, managed sales force, conducted primary research, extinguished
fire, won gold medal. I like past-tense verbs because they refer to events that
happened and are therefore verifiable. Knowing this keeps you honest.
I also love numbers, mainly because
they're objectively measurable. We can argue all day about what constitutes a
"significant improvement" in sales. But if you write that you
"increased new-territory customer sales by 23% in seven months," I
can draw a conclusion about whether that's significant. Second, numbers are
inherently credible because they can be checked. And very large numbers make a
lasting impression even if I forget what they refer to. For instance, I might
not remember what that $55 million transaction was all about or what you did,
but I'll remain impressed by $55 million of anything. For
instance, instead of saying "press secretary of a large state agency"
(yawn), say "Director of Communications for the Pennsylvania Department of
Public Welfare, a geographically diverse $4.6 billion agency with more than
39,000 employees." Even though a press secretary might only talk with 150
of those employees, those numbers sure stick, don't they?
And this shows that I also respect
titles since they suggest that someone else thought enough of you to make you
responsible for something. Names of certain companies also carry more clout
than others. (Would DuPont's demanding hiring process allow a complete turkey
to work there for eight years?) If you've got it, flaunt it. Resumes are no
place for false modesty. If you can't mention an employer's name for some
reason, describe it fully, as in "world's largest producer of high-technology
fasteners" or "Fortune 50 pharmaceutical manufacturer." Knowing
who previously employed you can affect how I perceive you and the quality of
your achievements.
As a typical resume reader, I prefer
tight, matter-of-fact documents (the accompanying version may not be perfect,
but I remember my defenses falling as I read it). It's also gratifying when the
information is well-organized, so that each item hits my brain just when my
mental organizing apparatus signals a need for it. This is a pleasant sensation,
akin to the one I get when I pass the resume writer through the initial hiring
screen and set up a job interview.
n Mr.
Richardson, a CareerJournal.com columnist, heads the Richardson Group, an
executive and career-development consulting firm in Narberth, Pa. He can be
reached at [email protected].
n This Article is provided in its entirety as found at www.careerjournal.com on May 15, 2001. Courtesy of Jeff Young, Southwestern Professional Services. [email protected] Toll free: 877-244-3758