WANTED: Cowpoke/Intern

[Update: The job has been filled. But, stay awesome.]

So, it turns out that managing a portfolio of thirty-nine companies, a couple of secondary vehicles, and two private equity fund partnerships is time-consuming. Who knew? Result is that there are lots of loose ends at Lowercase just begging for knots. Thus, we seek an intern with tiny, nimble fingers.

There is no formal set of requirements, many of the responsibilities will be up to you to propose, and the position will be mildly compensated. “Mildly” meaning on a heat scale ranging from Sweet Bell peppers to Habaneros… ketchup. You can perform your Lowercase duties from anywhere in the world, and this is non-negotiable, for the most part, usually, kind of. The prospect of a field trip to visit Lowercase HQ in Truckee should worry you a little bit, but you will nevertheless rehearse your best Real America colloquialisms and be ready to wear a “My kid shot a deer while your honor student was in school” shirt if survival requires it.

Broadly speaking, your professors/bosses consider you brilliant and therefore turn to you for help managing their Facebook privacy settings. (Having actually successfully reset them is not a required skill.) You have strong opinions about new tech products, are ultimately wrong more often than you are right, and are proud to admit so to everyone except the TechCrunch journalist you called a “sycophantic fanboy douchebag” in the launch post comments. You know exactly how Google could win at social if you could just get Eric, Larry, and Sergey to return your damn emails, and you have tattooed three potential business models for Twitter on your inner thigh. You can foresee how Groupon will be retailing human organs by Q3 2011, and you have asked your parents to stop calling you on Sundays and instead submit their questions to you via Formspring.me.

By this point, your copy of Excel should have a Pavlovian desire to please you, and of course, you have a pet name for it. You have considered if and how spreadsheet macros could solve the climate crisis and you have already begun coding them. You’ve gotten to second base with HTML and PHP, even better if at the same time (you animal). Your business-y friends tease you for being a geek, but your money-allergic nerd friends bust your chops for being a greedy sellout and they write open source rallying cries on your forehead when you pass out. You have considered whether there is a mass market for Fred Wilson, Chris Dixon, Ron Conway, Brad Feld, Josh Kopelman and Dave McClure trading cards, and even if you decided there isn’t, you printed yours anyway.

You refer to people by their Twitter handles first, and find every third sentence from the old lady who lives next door to be OH’able. You have submitted at least one word to the Urban Dictionary and you’ve said “stack that cheddar” to someone 20 years your senior. You believe that golf is the old golf. You can immediately tell if you have stepped in a new meme and have it all over your shoe, and somewhere bit.ly has data showing you are Patient Zero for viral links. Gary Vaynerchuk and Kevin Rose order whatever you’re drinking, Tony Hsieh calls you when he is feeling unhappy, and Tim Ferriss has given you the password to his inbox.

You’ve had a tipping job, or dug ditches, or dug ditches for tips. You’ve traveled extensively abroad and can say “What is your Wi-Fi password?” in over 10 languages. You have a hobby or an interest that has likely put you on a government watchlist, and you’ve responded by putting the government on your watchlist. You play sports more than you watch sports on TV (partly because you think TVs are quaint anachronisms), and you likely grew up somewhere that when you mention it to others you have to follow it up with, “No. Really.” You wish the Dos Equis guy would post his 23andMe results with you to see if you really are related.

To apply, send us your resume, a bio, a general statement of why the hell you would want to sully your reputation by being associated with such a sordid outfit as Lowercase, and what three things you would do if you were in charge of Fanbridge, Twilio, and Posterous. Lastly, to insure you have actually read this far, and if you have, I probably owe you an apology, please include a link to your favorite cowboy shirt made by Scully. Bundle all of this up in a digital saddlebag and Pony Express it to: [the job has been filled for now…]

Thanks, all,


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