If it ain't broke, have you ever fixed it
I met some friends for dinner and my friends brought friends of their own I haven't met before. A perfect situation for general introductions: Who are you, how did you meet, when did you meet, what do you do for a living, what are your hobbies...
And several times – explicitly and implicitly – I heard the term “broken CV” going around the table.
Well. Break your C, it might break your V.
But does it?
The word “broken” implies at the very least “something isn't in the state it is supposed to be”. A very subjective but clearly negative point of view.
Some broken things can be fixed, some can be mended. Most leave scars of some sort.
Then cover them up. don't go around parading with them, will you?
But here it becomes complicated: Scars – some of them – are considered like trophies. Proof of heroic obstacles, overcome and turned into achievement of growth.
Well, well, aren't we desperately trying to romantize things again? People started something, regretted their decision, then changed course. Only for some new courses getting broken soon after.
Studies never finished, a job quit again rather suddenly. And those are just the ones who actually tried to plan ahead. Others only tumble in the wind like leaves. But I guess everyone can be an “artist” these days.
My dear George, what caused this aggressive mood of your today? We try, we fail, we learn. Every child falls on their bum a lot of times until it can walk. Maybe the original reason for padded diapers.
You'd enjoy to only call an artist “artist” if you like their art. Only the result can justify a raison d'être for you!
Fine then. Have it your way. Honour failures. Celebrate dead ends. Give medals for detours.
But we sometimes do, don't we?
Many laugh about people traveling the world to “find themselves”. But it's often the same people envying the ones who actually “found themselves”. Survival bias at textbook level. Think outside the box, but never leave it.
I guess we got it all wrong. One size doesn't fit all. And when it comes to life, sometimes even “my own” size doesn't fit anymore. Or not quite yet. And. That. Is. ... Alright? At least it's normal.
And if it fits, in this very point of space and time, that's normal, too.
If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
And if it ain't hurt, don't break it just because all the cool kids have. The danger of survival bias lies in risky decisions. And regret.
Speaking of regret: Around the table, around the “broken CVs” there wasn't a lot of regret. People hoped, tried, reconsidered, and tried again. They know their scars. And some used them for a change of clothes.
Next post: “Nobody ever returned to tell”
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