At the start of every year, I do this thing where I update my resume with falsehoods. I lie, intentionally and boldly: proficient in X; launched Y; led a team and successfully Z'd. I mold it to perfection.
The spacing, superb. The type, crisp. The language, terse. The experience, impressive. I craft it as perfect as an antiquated and dead document can be crafted. And in its perfect state, wrought with lies, I think about what steps I can take in the coming year to make it less fiction and more non-fiction.
I do this because my resume serves me. I'm the audience. When someone other than me requests a copy of it, I lie some more. I serve them a part of my resume. I take my wonderfully crafted piece of fiction, and, omitting the falsehoods, or more specifically, the falsehoods that remain at that time, and serve the requestor a non-fiction form.
Resumes are not dead, the audience simply changed. I'm convinced this is the best career advice I have, a modern day version of "dress for the job you want." Craft your resume to how you want it to look, and then figure out how you're going to make that piece of fiction a piece of non-fiction in year's time.