The job hunt can be difficult. Stressful, even. Imagine if you had an Ivy League education and the student loan debt to go along with it, and you had to resort to offering yourself up as a dog-walker on Craigslist. You might snap, right? Sort of like this guy in Seattle did.
In what has to be one of the most fucked up yet entertaining ads asking for employment that I’ve ever seen, this fine gentleman (let’s call him Princeton Boy) calls himself “the most radical, bitching, mind blowing dog- walking experience in all of Seattle.” His wondrously descriptive ad runs the gamut of emotions:
He gets a little dirty:
“Your dog is gonna be on me like Charlie Sheen on a porn star mad of amphetamines; when I’m ascending toward penthouse suite in your private elevator, bitch’s nipples are gonna be ROCK HARD.”
A wee bit bitter:
“Are you one of those prototypical American success stories who worked your way up from nothing to live the dream, and now you want to gloat over an Ivy League grad who has been reduced to posting a dog-walking classified on skeezy-ass Craigslist? You can shadow me while I walk! Take pictures of my pathetic face as I handle your dog’s feces with nothing but a plastic bag over my hand! I’ll wear my Princeton lettermen’s Sweater! I might even Cry!”
“I’m a good guy, and I’m just looking to make a little extra cash by chaperoning your dog around your stupid white bread sidewalks. So if your interested in the dopest, most swagged-out LEGEND OF THE UNIVERSE dog-walking champion in Seattle, reply to this ad and we’ll get started in making your dog happier than a Mormon on his honeymoon.”
Kind of condescending:
“Do I have experience walking dogs? I’M A HUMAN BEING, OF COURSE I HAVE EXPERIENCE WALKING DOGS. THIS ISN’T LINEAR ALGEBRA, FOLKS; ITS DOG-WALKING.”
And just a little creepy:
“Do I do overnights? YOU BET YOUR BOATHOUSE, BUDDY! I will sleep in your sweet-ass apartment and tend to your dog while doing it. Don’t want my poor-person skin sullying your ostrich-feather sheets? I’ll sleep on the floor! Don’t want my poor-person hair secreting oils all over the pearl-white tiles? I’ll sleep in the crate with the dog! Sh*t as long as I’m allowed to turn on the heat, I’ll curl up in a ball and sleep in your sink WHILE THE ATER RUNS OVER MY NAKED BODY!”
Given the number of typos, I’m pretty sure this dude either didn’t actually graduate from Princeton or that this was written while he was high on some kind of mix of cheap whiskey and prescription pills he stole out of a client’s medicine cabinet. Either way, if you live in Seattle and have a dog, for the love of God, please give this poor bastard a chance. His next stop will be applying for a job at Starbucks, and you know he’s going to spit in your coffee.