Birth of a Salesman?
Scallywag and Vagabond has developed a strong and steady readership since its founding in November of 2008, thus winning out over those of our early critics who said it couldn't be done. I remember Keith Moon, for instance, predicted that we "would go down like a led zepplin." In defiance, we named ourselves Scallywag and Vagabond, unless I'm getting us confused with Led Zepplin, as I often do. At any rate, we've since managed to rack up an admirable array of regular readers coupled with a dependable flow of occasional onlookers. And having recently brought on board several very talented people to assist with programming, graphics, and other such necessities, we're now ready to implement some of the grand projects we've been planning over the past month or so, including morning-after video coverage of New York's most intriguing events.
With our readership now sizable and set to expand quite a bit further in the near future, we've decided to implement advertising - although nothing obtrusive, mind you, as our policy is to be obtrusive only in such cases as we're investigating someone richer than us. The selling of advertising, it occurs to us, is a very retro sort of way for a media outlet to make money. Those of our readers who are of a certain age may remember a time when media properties were required to bring in some sort of income, ideally one greater in amount than what the outlet spent in the process of being a media property. This was before people started inventing things like YouTube and then selling them to things like Google, of course. Rather than sell Scallywag and Vagabond to Google as well - and acquisitions agents representing that search engine are, of course, essentially knocking down our door in an attempt to begin preliminary discussions and have been doing so ever since they found out that we have a funny name and bring in almost no income - we have decided to go ahead with the retro route of selling ads in order to fund our operations. Of course, we are doing this entirely for purposes of irony. "Oh, yeah, dude," I'll say to editor-in-chief Christopher Whatshisname. "Let's line up our key demo with a few targeted sales focused on an across-the-board array of boutiques as well as services oriented towards the publicist-and-producer lifestyle, dude." Then I ironically chomp on a cigar which I purchased from an entirely non-ironic tobacconist who hates me because he knows I use all of his products as ironic props. Well, fuck him. When I buy those cigars, th
Rather, I don't say anything of the sort, as we don't do sales ourselves; even if we were competent at that sort of thing, we'd simply lack the time. I'm busy with a bunch of stuff that I can't recall at the moment but which I assume is important or at least time-consuming insomuch as that I've been meaning to write this particular pece for weeks but am just now getting around to it, and our fearless assistant editor Christopher Koulouris is so incredibly busy that I just now promoted myself to editor-in-chief and busted him down to my old position of assistant editor and he has yet to notice because he's too busy doing whatever it is that he did as editor-in-chief before I took over the position just now. I should probably find out.
Long story short - having told you the long version already, I'll now give you the short version in case you were too busy to read the longer one you just read - our fine outlet is in need of a couple of folks to sell ads for us. The folks in question, whom we promise not to call folks on a regular basis, would do so under a freelance arrangement involving a 20 percent commission, as well as additional perks just for playing - invitations to our various events and parties, for instance, as well as praise and encouragement and hugs and sexually suggestive comments that are expressed ostensibly as jokes but are clearly serious invitations to engage in intercourse. Just kidding, sexy. That was just a joke. I love looking at you, though. Ha, ha! Anyway, experience in sales isn't required, thus making this a rather ideal gig for those looking to develop experience in the field without having to deal with all of the bizarre and shady outfits of the sort that are forever running ads on craigslist with the covert intention of molesting you. In contrast, we're very open with our feelings. Man, I'm going to get the shit sued out of us, aren't I?
If you're interested in selling ads for our increasingly iconic journal of cultural goings-on and ongoing degeneracy, send an e-mail in the general direction of our fearless yet technologically-challenged editor-in-chief at
Christopher@scallywagandvagabond.com, and eventually someone will open up his inbox for him and print out the message and then have one of our interns inscribe its contents in pictograph form on a clay tablet which will in turn be left to bake in the sun until such point as it is sufficiently hardened for it to be handled and read to him by a scribe of the priest caste; afterwards, the process will be reversed in order that he may convey a message back to you in turn. We're also looking to hire scribes of the priest caste. Not really, of course; caste is unimportant.
We're also on the lookout for a couple of interns; those accepted will receive college credits as well as a number of perks even better than those we confer upon the sales folks, including entrance to many of the exclusive events we cover. Better yet, you'll be privy to writing tips and career assistance from assistant editor Barrett Brown, who's a regular contributor to Vanity Fair, The Huffington Post, True/Slant, and Skeptic as well as the author of Flock of Dodos and the upcoming Hot, Fat, and Clouded; having written for dozens of publications ranging in content from humor to dining to public policy, and having otherwise spent half of his 28 years in the media, he can almost certainly help you to get some paying work, which is good because any work that doesn't pay is essentially a form of slavery.
Note: Internships are unpaid.
Don't delay; e-mail us today!