This is a screencap of a real Craigslist post entitled “OMG – Your Senior Strategic Direction saved my life.” Read it. Go on, I’ll wait.
You all done? Still alive? Not out setting small forest creatures alight in a vengeful, incendiary rage?
Then please come clean my yard. It’s full of charred squirrels and I am very busy.
Can I explain something? Come here. Closer. No, closer. Have a seat. Right there, little missy. Right where I can see you.
This post doesn’t even tell us what the fuck the fucking fuck job is fuck fuckity fuck goddamn you all to hell.
Okay? Do we all see that? Do we see that the job post is LITERALLY NOTHING?
Here’s some of what it is, because I know you didn’t read it, you liars:
Taking a quick step forward, she jammed both barrels into the Creative Director’s forehead (moi’s), but not before pump-loading it with one arm, like Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2, causing the Creative Director to wish he’s stayed in Elevator Repairman school. [And while I’m getting a gun pointed at my head, why do I have to write all these stupid recruitment ads? Geez. . .. I have better things to do. Anyway, back to the story. . .]
What is this? Is this a thing now? Are the job recruiters now PUBLICLY asking us why it’s their lot in life to go out and, you know, recruit for jobs? Which they don’t even DO because they’re splooging nonsensical fuckery all over poor Craig Newmark?
No list of job duties, no desired qualifications, no company mission statement, zip, zilch, nada, BUPKIS, nothing except for some clumsily executed, poorly punctuated scenario wherein a long-suffering creative director fantasizes about a client exploding his brains all over his Dockers. In other words, a regular freaking Tuesday.
Who proofread this? Who let “Your Senior Strategic Direction” go out as a headline in place of “Your Senior Strategic Director“? No. No, here’s a better question. Who let the letters O-M-G stray into this godforsaken piece of useless self-indulgence? Who?
NO ONE. Because even more than a new strategic director, these people need a freaking writer to tell them all the 258,125 reasons why this is NOT cute, it is NOT effective, and it should not be allowed to live because it is an abomination in the sight of God and nature.
But will they HIRE a writer? No. They will not. Because these silly billy giggleheads think they are just the cleverest copywriters ever to shit an interrobang. And they are out there, ladies and gentlemen. They are out there right now, just– just in the world, you know, running around high-fiving each other about their cleverness, and all the neato fun job candidates their super-great ad will bag them. You knew Durham was a sketchy place to live, but you didn’t know just how sketchy until now, did you? DID YOU?
If you know these people, if you SEE these people, shun them for me. You do it. You shun them, god damn it, with as much shunnery as you have shunned anything in your life.
This isn’t strategy. This is a tragedy. What we have here, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is a bona fide stragedy. Will the madness ever end? WILL IT? THINK OF THE CHILDREN.