Are you PASSIONATE about finance? Rock star Executive Assistant needed for C-level exec at up-and-coming boutique firm. Ideal candidate is a detail-oriented, motivated self-starter. Thick skin and ability to handle tricky personalities a must. Salary standard with opportunity for growth. Bachelors degree, five years industry experience required.
They’re all like this. Because these people are all liars. In order for them to pay you they demand that you be a liar too. Are you passionate about finance? Of course not. No one is. No one is even passionate about money; they go after money because they have no passion and don’t know what else to do with their lives. But we want you to be motivated by passion, not a paycheck. Because we don’t want to pay you.
Rock star needed. Rock star. A rock star is a person who stays up freebasing until sunrise, whose herpes laden tattooed cock is never outside of some seventeen year old runaway. A rock star is a person who barely works forty minutes a day and then passes out in his own waste. Your job description is for a quiet drone who punches in early and meekly plugs numbers you dictate into an Excel spreadhseet. This is the opposite of a rock star. But “rock star” just means “something cool that everyone wants to be.” It means “exceptional.” We want an exceptional rock star to go above and beyond to find the best price on toner cartridges, to know that they’ll last little longer even when the printer tells you they’re empty, if you give them a vigorous shake. We could save point zero zero zero one per cent of the office supply budget this way. We want a passionate committed detail oriented motivated self starter who is a total rock star about getting the building manager to fix our toilet before the other five people with plumbing problems get their issues handled; who can outmaneuver the rock stars from that commercial real estate office on the sixth floor. We want a rock star who, when some miscreant has blocked the boss’ parking space, manages to get the offender towed and the boss’ car parked in his space and the seat readjusted to the boss’ height and lumbar curvature and neck angle and the keys back on the boss’ desk and when the boss gets out of his meeting it’s like the whole thing never happened, and not asking for credit for this, it’s just assumed. Just like Jimi Hendrix would have done.
Motivated self-starter. We fired the last passionate rock star without notice so there is no one to train you; we expect you to just know. Detail-oriented. We cannot manage you in other words, we whose job title is “manager.” I can’t be out there being passionately driven to develop new business for Wong & Goldblum Financials LLC if I’m here holding your hand through how to file my expense reports. I need a detail oriented motivated self starting rock star where you just plug it in and it works.
Opportunity for growth. You could be sitting where I’m sitting some day. Next year it could be you regarding some nervous schlump’s resume with your lizardlike eyes, tapping a pen on a pressboard desk like a fucking woodpecker on meth thinking how soon can I get out of this interview. Why does HR keep sending me these shitbirds when I asked for a chick. Sweating in a bad suit, bad shoes, eyes rubbed raw glaring at people’s stupid emails until you can’t read street signs anymore; you can’t focus on anything more than three feet away. Wondering if they monitor your internet; you’ve been reading hooker reviews, wondering if you can afford an appropriate tip for “Anastasia” who has received three point eight stars collectively and has “the cutest accent” according to whoremaster69. Bar girls are impossible, why not cut to the chase. Could be you, a rock star Account Executive flattering and simpering and Always Being Closing and terrified you’re not bringing in enough dollars, hoping they give you the option of a pay cut so you can keep the job, have somewhere to go ten hours out of the day; anywhere but your smelly beige apartment with a granite countertop that they didn’t tell you means you can’t put any fucking food on it. It’s a fucking rock, for Christ’s sake, but if you cut a grapefruit on it the imprint will be seared into the stone forever and they’re gonna take it out of your deposit. How then are the mountains not all worn down to dust by falling fruit. I paid extra for that fucking thing. How are you gonna make payments on your BMW that you dreamed about until you got one and noticed that everyone else has the exact same fucking car. Should have got a Prius, chicks would think I give a fuck about the Earth.
Are you PASSIONATE about finance? I can’t even conceive of the malformed subhuman who honestly says “yes.” If you are passionate about finance, about sales, about commercial real estate, about branding, co-branding, maximizing awareness in the branded space, about targeted apps, social media outreach, office solutions, personal finance solutions, human resources solutions, network marketing solutions, synergistic growth opportunities… you need to find a healthier passion, like molesting kids.
Anyway. Here’s hoping this place calls me back.
