I saw on LinkedIn that you’re “hiring rock stars!” and at first I was like, Give me a break, what does this guy know about rock stars?
But then I read an article that said your company’s torching close to two million dollars of venture capital a month, and thought, Hold on a second…that sounds like something a rock star might want a piece of.
The more I read, the more pumped I got. Finally, I thought, here’s someone who works hard and plays hard. And then — boom — there it was on your profile: “We believe in working hard and playing hard.”
It’s in your values!
Everything fell into place after that: You’re “hiring rock stars!” because you’re following the model we invented:
> Get started in a garage by a few white guys who feel misunderstood and cope with that by fostering delusions of grandeur.
> Teeter on the edge of financial and emotional collapse while telling friends and family that a breakthrough is right around the corner.
> Attach to a movement or period of social change in order to create a greater sense of significance.
My head started nodding, and it hasn’t stopped, brother. “God-damn,” I said to the guy seated next to me at the bus stop, “this shit feels so right!”
It’s — to use a term from one of your old blog posts — “synchronous.”
There was a time when I believed I’d never give up life on the road, drumming for cover bands between real gigs. But now I think I’m ready to leave all that behind and start working 70 hours a week for a company that’s burning through cash like a crack addict.
By the way, I burned money once. Nothing like two mill, of course. Just a few loose twenties, but it was the principle: Sometimes, dammit, a backup singer needs to be shown you don’t scam friends with fake LSD.
That article I was reading also said that every few months you lay off about 20 percent of your staff, realize you overdid it a little, and then start hiring all over again, shouting, “We’re growing!”
Amen, brother: loss, starting over. That’s growth, man. Real growth. I bet everyone at your company’s real mature.
So, anyway, you’re looking for rock stars — your post clearly said it — but I thought I’d do something that isn’t very rock-star of me and outline why I’m the rock star you’re looking for.
I’ve spent the past nine years living in buses, joining bands, quitting bands, rolling with things as groups broke up and got back together. For a while there, I was getting my mail delivered to a diner in Fresno. “Agile,” is the term you use. At least that’s what I could tell from your twelve blog posts — written around the time you laid off 20 percent of your staff — about the importance of “remaining agile.”
“Keeping things lean,” you called it in a few other posts. Again, I hear you 1,000 percent. A steady diet of heroin and Marlboros have kept me at a level that makes early Mick Jagger look like late Elvis, if you know what I’m saying.
Sure you do — you’re “hiring rock stars!”
It’s also pretty clear that you love disruption. Perfect! I’ve been disrupting things ever since I was a kid: my parents’ Pontiac, the front window of a 7–11, a ten-year-old schnauzer named Skittles.
Most of my more recent disruption has been focused on restaurants and hotels — whether from breaking furniture in a confused rage or simply passing out while my cigarette was still burning.
I’ve also disrupted the lives of almost every person I’ve become acquainted with, including a teenager in Madison, Wisconsin, who keeps DM’ing me on Instagram, telling me she’s pregnant. Total buzzkill, by the way. Babies, from what I can tell, don’t know anything about working hard or playing hard. You know what I mean?
You definitely do — because you’re quite literally “hiring rock stars!”
So, yeah…let’s keep things simple here. You’re “hiring rock stars!” I’m a rock star. I totally get your model. I think that settles the matter.
I’ll come by in a few days and get started. Attached is my standard contract and rider. Please note that I need a six-pack of Stella tallboys waiting for me every morning.
Some venues have told me that Stella tallboys are tough to get ahold of. But your profile says you’re an “innovator,” so how ’bout you innovate me some fucking beers. You know what I mean?
Of course you know what I mean — you’re “hiring rock stars!”
