The Lies That We Tell

Have you ever exaggerated on a resume or in an interview in order to spice it up in hopes of that great job? Yeah, me too.

Everything has to be just right these days. Perfect, almost. You have to put together a great resume, you have to look professional, sound smart, and be well articulated.

Every job that you’ve ever done has to sound like the greatest thing in the world, all while providing you with the experience to do the job you’re applying for.

Your mental health? It has to be perfect, and God forbid you’ve ever had struggles that have negatively impacted your life in any way.

These are the lies that we tell.

I am all of these things, but I am also none of these things. I have always been great at painting a perfect picture of myself, conveniently leaving out what society would view as “negative.” These are just basic ideas of what employers like to see as an ideal candidate, but not just that, it is what people expect. It takes away from who we are as people, because we begin to hide our true selves in order to provide this great first impression.

Jumping back into the workforce, the “civilian life,” was difficult for me. After eight years in the Marine Corps, I thought I had everything under control. I had the discipline, the articulation, the preparation skills and the experience of speaking and performing under pressure.

After rehearsing these perfect interviews, with beautifully, well thought out responses, I always seemed to leave my interviewers in awe. I was well-spoken, kind, funny, hard-working, determined to be better, calm under pressure, and a team player. All things that were great qualities to have in any employee. Although I was receiving these great job offers with amazing pay and benefits, I was constantly second guessing myself and having the worst of luck finding the right career for me – the meaningful career in which I felt fulfilled and happy.

It wasn't until I decided to take a firefighter class for a semester at college, to see if I'd like it, that I found the problem. The course was interesting, to say the least, but I still questioned whether I loved it. I decided to interview with a department that we had the pleasure of training with, and it was during the preparation interview where I had an immense amount of disbelief in my own responses. For some strange reason, I didn't believe any of the things I was telling my instructor during this mock interview.

My strengths are not present because I’m determined or motivated to be better.

My weaknesses aren't these b.s., handpicked responses that employers like to hear.

My strengths and weaknesses are cohesive. I'm very good at things because of my crippling fear of NOT being good at them. I’m not always this kind, talkative and happy person that I appear to be during interviews. In fact, I often times find myself hoping someone would not talk to me. I’m not calm and collected under pressure, I’m a hot mess internally, frantically equating outcomes in my head, trying to figure out the best way to do things. I just don’t show it.

The morning of the interview I threw it all away. I was no longer this perfect candidate, I was me, and I had no idea what I was going to say.

"So, can you tell us about yourself?"

Here is when I first ever experienced cognitive consonance. Where my conscious thoughts and my subconscious beliefs had finally aligned. Here is where I learned who the real me really was, and remarkably so, everything flowed naturally.

"Well gents, as you already know, I'm David Rivera. I'm originally from Newark, New Jersey. I graduated high school in 2009, went to college for a few years to play baseball, then joined the Marine Corps in 2013. I served eight years in the Marine Corps and separated honorably as a Staff Sergeant. I’m currently a student and a father of two; a one-year-old boy and a three-year-old girl. I could rant all day about myself and time in service, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that I don't have perfect cookie cutter responses for you all today. I separated from the military a little over a year ago, and I've been truly struggling to find my place in the world. I’ve been struggling to relate to others, and to find a profession in which I feel that I can be myself. You see, the military is a lifelong commitment. Someone once described being a Veteran to me as ‘someone who wrote a blank check, made payable to the United States of America, for the amount of up to and including my life.'

This carried so much weight with me, because I was ready. Every day I was ready to make the sacrifice. I was ready to answer the call, knowing that could mean my own life, for the safety of others, complete strangers. To me, that was always an honor. It was worth every second of struggle, every sleepless night, every suicidal thought and every friend that I lost for the cause. Since separating from service, I've struggled to find that purpose. The feeling of being the person to be called on, to run head on into the danger, to ensure those around me are safe, was what I've struggled to find and..."

Before I finished my sentence, I felt it. The feeling of pride in who I was and what I stand for. The real me.

"...and I believe this is where I'll find it. I'm not a perfect man, and I will make mistakes, but I will make damn sure do my best to learn, to be better every day, and to ensure that every time I'm called to do my job, that I will always be ready for anything."

For the first time, in a long time, I felt a sense of relief. Regardless of the outcome, I knew that I was myself, rather than some cookie cutter, cherry picked version.

That was the only question that I answered during that interview, because the real me was all they needed to know to want me on their team.