Letter 2: The Weird Resume

Hi Friend,

"Tell me about your background" is one of those questions I still don't have a short answer for. Hospitality degree, then training and development, then advertising operations, then... consulting. Said out loud, in a hallway or over coffee, it comes out clipped, four job titles in a row that don't obviously belong together. I usually watch the confusion land on someone's face before I've even finished the sentence.

But it's not really four jobs. It's one thread, running through four different rooms. And since I've got more room here than I ever do standing in a hallway, I want to actually walk through it properly, for once.

Here's what I mean.

Hospitality taught me proactivity, anticipating what someone needs before they know to ask for it. It also gave me a pace, a go-go-go instinct that never really left. When you're managing a front desk or a banquet floor, you don't get the luxury of a full briefing, you learn to spot what's about to go wrong before it does, and move.

Training and development taught me that everyone learns differently, and it's my job to meet them where they are, not the other way around. That's communication at its core. Their success was my success, and that feeling of watching the lightbulb go on never got old. It also reframed how I think about fixing things, most problems aren't knowledge problems, they're a mismatch between how something's being taught and how a person actually takes it in.

Advertising operations is where it all started weaving together. I took the pace and service instinct from hospitality and the intentionality of training and development, and wrapped systems and process around both of them. I don't think I would have made it through the juggling that role required without my hospitality roots underneath me. The agency also gave me room to grow, to say what I wanted to build for the team and actually build it as we navigated constant change. My goal was always to make my team's lives easier, to build systems that let them breathe and do their best work, because I believe that when you support your team well, your clients feel it. That belief is what eventually pointed me toward bringing the best strategy and work directly to clients myself.

Underneath all of it, I think the throughline is that I've always been a navigator. Every one of those roles asked me to help an organization move through change, sometimes big, sometimes quiet. I built a department in a hotel from nothing because I saw a gap in service no one else was covering. I helped build an offsite catering department from the ground up, landing exclusive contracts with venues like IU's athletics teams, wedding venues, and golf courses. I supported an agency's growth from thirteen employees to over thirty, with the client list and budgets to match. Different rooms, same instinct: see where things are breaking down, and build the thing that holds it together.

None of that happens without the parts of me that don't show up on a resume. I'm hardworking and driven. I see problems before they happen and don't wait to be asked. I don't shy away from hard conversations, I'd rather communicate directly, with compassion, than let something fester. I follow through. And underneath all of it is a servant's heart. I want to help people. Period. Sometimes that looks like helping someone through change, sometimes it's giving service good enough that people leave with a good memory, sometimes it's just making someone's day a little easier. The shape changes, the wanting to help doesn't.

So when someone asks how I ended up here, the honest answer is: every stop taught me a different piece of the same skill, and none of it would work without the others. The "weird" resume isn't a workaround. It's the actual qualification.

So embrace your weird resume. Reflect on what you loved about that role, what you didn't, and how you grew because of it. Own it in the interview, or when you're telling your family you've changed paths again. It's your life and your career to shape, not anyone else's, so stop apologizing for the shape it's taken.

I see you out there, and I see the value you bring to any organization through those varied experiences. I'd bet you walk into a room better prepared than people would expect from reading your resume alone.

You just heard about my path, so now I want to hear about yours. Write back to katie@papermoonconsult.com, or find me on any of my socials @papermoonconsulting. Better yet, let's grab coffee, and be ready to talk about all the gorgeous, weird work you've done.

Until next time,

Katie

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Letter 1: Welcome to The Paper Trail