Are you so thrilled at the prospect of wearing a stiff pinstripe suit at a full-time job that you’re cumming in your pants? Do you have what it takes to lay down on your back and spread ’em wide for the president of the company? Were the first eight words you learned “Pay me, I’ll die for this great firm?”
We’re looking for the biggest pricks and stuffiest hotshots that America has to offer.
Send us your resume, cover letter, underpants, and four letters recommendations from fortune 500 CEOs not related to you via Federal Express International Overnight. Include a summary, in six words or less, with a professionally produced music track, of why you’re destined to be the next Rupert Murdoch, and why that makes you hotter than Anna Nicole after a six-pack of Christian Brothers 750s.
(No losers or unenthusiastic people, no exceptions. We Mean It!)