Whoops! I Sent a Joke Shidduch Resume for My Daughter
I’ve always had an odd sense of humor. I like to make fun of the things that most people would be appalled at. Nothing is off limits for me.
Growing up, my brother and I would sing the “Beans” song – you know the one, about the more you eat, the more you toot – openly at the dinner table whenever my mom would serve beans.
Boy, would my mother give us a talking to about how totally inappropriate that song was. But that didn’t stop us. And when I started a family of my own, I let my kids sing that song at the table. In fact, I taught it to them.
So when it came time for my daughter to go through the shidduch (matchmaking) process, I had to lighten the mood a little bit with humor.
My daughter is not like me. She is very serious and finds my humor sometimes embarrassing. She still has not forgiven me for some limericks I made up when she was in high school that had something to do with a certain kind of sample she had to collect for the doctor when she had stomach issues. While I am truly sorry today, it was too good of an opportunity to pass up at the time.
My daughter painstakingly wrote every word of her shidduch resume herself. She put her blood, sweat, and tears into it, and with good reason. She wanted to find her life partner. In it, she was very clear about who she was and who she was looking for.
As her mother, I wanted to protect her. Jumping into the world of shidduchim could be intimidating, and even painful at times. I wanted her to realize that this concept of a shidduch resume is just a small glimpse into a person, and often not very accurate, because everyone seemed to follow the same set of unwritten rules.
Poking fun at the resume seemed like a way for her to realize that hers would look like many others, and that Hashem is in charge of helping us find the right person for her to date.
After my daughter wrote up her resume, I read it and thought it looked great. But I could not help myself, and I wanted to have some fun with it. So, I rewrote it and called it the “most truthful resume ever.”
This was really meant for her only to see and hopefully laugh at, so I sent it to her. I saved it on my computer under her name, with a number two at the end. It was just like her real resume, only with a number at the end.
In the original resume, when describing herself, my daughter talked about how she is organized and likes her routine. She discussed her hobbies and her favorite activities. But, I gave birth to her and lived with her for a number of years, so I knew what she really meant. I wrote:
“I am a thoughtful and introspective person, guided by a strong moral conscience. I take my responsibilities seriously. I sound like I have OCD, but I really do need to have everything a certain way and I work hard at to make sure that happens. I enjoy being organized and following routines in my day-to-day life. I enjoy accumulating knowledge (like random dates of wars, the detailed mortality rate of the Holocaust) and keeping up with what’s going on in the world around me.”
So far, there were some tame jokes. Then I really started to have fun.
“My interests include reading, biking, hiking, visiting museums, religiously washing my feet every night, keeping up with the news, and spending quality time with friends and family composting (Oh, those worms look hungry tonight!). When I am mad, I will silently brood and give you the evil eye every chance I get. My hashkafos (values) include building a house that is imbued with the beauty of Yiddishkeit, Chassidus, and a home in which halacha is important. – especially the halachos of washing one’s feet at night.“
I also rewrote the section about what she was looking for in a boy. She wrote the usual – someone with a sense of humor, who runs his life with halacha, who loves kids, who will eventually work, blah, blah blah. So, I made some small edits:
“I want someone who is just like me, only male, and who will make plenty of money so I never have to work (I hate working). Oh, and someone who doesn’t really want kids, unless they will take care of them all by themselves (I hate kids). Did I mention that I can’t stand it when someone sits on my blankets – then I have to wash them? And I hate cheese unless it is on pizza, and I can’t stand peanut butter, unless it is mixed with lots of sugar and chocolate.”
I can see how I went a little overboard with this one. But hey, I had a really good laugh when I wrote this, and it did release tension. During this very tense process of shidduchim, we all needed to lighten up. I could have instead eaten a pound of chocolate chip cookies, but then how would I fit into a dress for the wedding?
When my daughter saw the resume, she laughed and got the point. She rewrote parts of her resume. She lightened up the sections about herself and what she wanted in a mate. Honestly, the most important part of the resume is the references, so she realized that what she wrote in the other sections was not going to make a big difference.
Fast forward a few weeks, and a request came for her resume. I was a little distracted when I went to my computer to send it. I quickly wrote an email to the shadchan (matchmaker) and attached her resume. Since the boy looked good on paper, I was hoping for a positive response.
A few days passed and the response came. A resounding “NO.”
They were not interested, no reason given. Now, I have been around the block enough times to know that a reason is usually not given. But most people will say something like, “She is too young” or “We don’t want a girl from the west coast.” But this was just “NO.”
Oh no, I realized. I sent the wrong resume.
My heart started to pound. Wow, what those parents must think of us. And it would be deserved. Ouch. How was I going to explain this one to my husband and daughter? Considering that I liked refreshingly honest transparency, I guess I would just have to tell them everything.
The more I thought about it, though, the calmer I became. For someone to say “no” to my daughter, I would rather it was because they saw a really odd resume and not because of my daughter. And why would I want to have my daughter marry into a family that had no sense of humor anyway? Clearly, the resume was a joke.
This past Sukkos, my daughter and her new husband were sitting at the table Moztai Shabbos. After a week learning about his wife’s family’s strange sense of humor, including lots of bathroom jokes, I figured he would be up for hearing about the whole resume debacle.
“Ma, I never even saw her resume. I don’t need to see it now,” he said.
My daughter looked at me with a very straight face and asked, “What resume debacle?”
Uh, oh. I had some explaining to do!
Batsheva Isaac is a mother of eight from Los Angeles. She spends most days working in the education field and feeding her family. In her downtime, she writes.