Permanent Record

Those of us of a certain age will remember the times in our youth when our parents warned us, “Don’t do anything bad at school. You don’t want it to be on your permanent record!” What was this exactly? In those days, perhaps, we thought of it as a paper document which followed us forever, transported by some unknown handler to the next school or even workplace in a Manila envelope. It could never be altered in any way, so any dings acquired in our life’s journey would be there forever, along with the good stuff.

When we prepared a resume, or if we were really fancy, a CV (I always wanted one of those!), we naturally tried to shine the best light on ourselves. We left out the missteps, hoping the employer wouldn’t find us out. Depending on the position we were seeking, the resume might be accepted at face value, and if we performed well in the interview, and the references we supplied said that we walked on water, we got the job. For some positions, though, the background checks were more serious. I am reminded of the female radio talk show host, who received a marriage proposal from a successful businessman she’d been seeing. She would not say yes until he showed her his tax returns for the previous three years.

Of course, it is much harder now to skate by, as there really IS a permanent record for young people, thanks to social media. But in the darker ages, fact-finding was more difficult. A consistent theme in a novel I finished a few years ago was: “You really don’t know people.” The late writer Anais Nin used to say that if a hundred people who knew her were to write biographies of her, there would be a hundred different versions of her life, depending on what each writer saw.

Sometimes, the last snapshot someone took of us might be an ugly one. The other 99 people might think we are a paragon of rectitude – but there’s that one, or more than one, we offended, disrespected, or even injured. Have we apologized, even if we don’t remember what happened, or do we continue to feed the good-guy or girl myth, even believing it ourselves? We may or may not be suitable candidates for the United States Supreme Court, or President, or Pope, and maybe we just have to admit that and move on. We have a much better shot at forgiveness, though, if we just own up to our checkered past and accept being human.