My resume looks like a corridor with mirrors: marketing here, journalism there, a detour through finance, a loop back into technology. Borges would have understood. The document is not a map of where I have been. It is a map of where I might pretend I always intended to go.

To read a resume is to believe in causality. One position leads to another, like doors in a hallway. To live a resume is to admit that half the doors were opened because the wind was blowing and rent was due. The labyrinth is not a symbol of order. It is a confession of how we wander.

There is a story in every line: a press deadline, a merger, a product launch, a newsroom argument about what counts as "news." The resume does not contain the story. It contains the evidence that the story exists.