I chow down on my pizza and nod my head to the heavy music, refreshing my Craigslist “gigs” page. Most of the stuff on this site is pretty low-level, but once in a while there’s something interesting to be found. Sure, I once accidentally applied to code a virtual sex worker site, but...you know. Comes with the territory.
“What’s this?” I mutter around my bite of pizza, peering down at an unassuming link at the bottom of the page.
Summer Internship Opportunity for Ambitious, Up-and-Coming Female Entrepreneur: Invest My Fortune — Las Vegas, NV
“Las Vegas, huh?” I chuckle to myself, “That would be something. Dad would certainly be proud, at least.”
I click on the link, expecting it to be an open call for showgirls, or a “sugar daddy seeking” situation. Why else would the ad be directed at young women, specifically? This is the internet, after all. But out of curiosity, I read on.
Unique Summer Internship Opportunity for the Right Girl
Location: Las Vegas, Nevada
Commitment: Full-time
Pay: Substantial
Employer: Anonymous
Description: This summer, I'm looking to make a deserving female entrepreneur's dream come true. I will put a $250,000 trust account in your name if you meet my criteria and I feel that you will make a good investment. All living expenses will be paid for, and then some, during your stay in Las Vegas. I’ll set you up with a hotel room on the strip, introduce you to my many business connections, and offer you a wealth of resources and advice as you create and launch your product. If you're a smart, ambitious, beautiful young woman, then please send an e-mail message with "ambitious beauty" in the subject line. Tell me briefly what your business goals are and what you'll do with the investment funds. You must also include a headshot photo, and links to social media.
NOTE: I will give special consideration to girls of Eastern-European ancestry. Will explain later.
I cock an eyebrow at the peculiar ad. Surely, this has to be some kind of scam. What kind of venture capitalist would invest in a first-time entrepreneur on a whim? And seemingly without looking for anything in return? The kind looking to spend the summer with a hot young sex toy, that’s what. There’s absolutely no way that this opportunity is legit. First of all, it’s in Vegas. Second, why would it matter that the entrepreneur be female, and beautiful? I have no idea what the Eastern-European ancestry thing is about, but it sounds like a fetish to me. And why would the employer post anonymously if not to keep people from knowing right off the bat that he’s a fraud?
My finger hovers over the track pad, ready to close out of the phony posting. But for some reason, I can’t just write it off. My eyes hang heavy on that dollar amount: $250,000. That’s more money than I can even imagine. It would certainly be enough to get my startup off the ground in a big way. I consider myself to be ambitious and driven, and I really do believe in my idea for a new kind of crowdfunding site. Hell, I even have the Eastern European thing going for me. Even if this employer is a bit eccentric, could it actually be worth it to apply for the gig?
I leave the window open and hop in the shower, determined to think it all over. Jumping to conclusions never did anyone any favors, after all. As I lather up my hair with generic shampoo and think about what microwavable meal I’m going to make for dinner, I realize all at once how dull my life has become. Am I really going to be one of those people who sits in front of their laptop all day, toiling over mindless data entry jobs, never getting the cash together to start something big? That’s not the kind of life I’m interested in leading. Not at all.
Tentatively, I let myself imagine what it would be like to get the hell out of this apartment and spend the summer in Vegas—sprawling, chaotic, exciting Vegas. I could be living large in my own lush hotel room, ordering room service, going out every night. There I’d be—lounging by the pool, schmoozing with rich and powerful investors that could help make my dreams come true. The money I could make on blackjack alone is enough to set my head spinning.
True, the ad is probably just a bunch of bullshit. Probably, the poster is just some desperate guy looking to jack off to some snapshots of Eastern-European girls. Or else he’s a low-level venture capitalist with no people skills and an overblown ego. But what do I have to lose by replying? All I have to do is send him a description of my project and a dinky little photo of me. Anyone could find my email address and photo online, and probably more than that, if I’m being realistic.
I step out of the shower and wrap myself up in a threadbare towel. With a conflicted mind, I sit back down in front of the computer, debating vigorously with myself. It’s stupid of me to get my hopes up, I know. There’s no way an offer like this could ever come without a serious catch. But I also know that my bank account has never been more alarmingly unimpressive. I could be facing some seriously hard times come graduation if I don’t figure something out soon. And without anywhere to turn if I do end up down on my luck, how can I afford to be picky? Who am I to turn my nose up at opportunities like this when they arise? Because if it turns out this thing is legit, and I happen to get chosen...my life could change forever.
“Get a grip, Kassie!” I mutter, marching off into my bedroom to throw on some actual clothes. Most of the day has already slipped away as I’ve studied and applied for work. I throw on a fitted long sleeved tee and a pair of super-short jean cutoffs. My hair hangs loosely over my shoulders, wavy and air-dried. I’m just about to close out of that craigslist ad once and for all when I hear a knock on my front door. That’s right—Kelly said she’d come and check on me again tonight.
“Oh good, you’re alive!” she says, as I let her back in.
“How do you look so put together after a day of hung-over studying?” I ask her, marveling at her wrap dress and spiky heels.
“It’s called buying shampoo that costs more than a dollar,” she says.
“Fair point,” I allow.
“Get your stuff together, we’re going out,” she tells me excitedly.
“What?” I sputter, “Kel, come on—”
“You come on, Kassie,” she counters, “When was the last time you left this apartment for something other than class?”
“I...brought the garbage out the other day,” I mutter lamely.
“Oh God,” she groans, “The situation is even more dire than I thought. Come on—put on your sluttiest dress and come dancing with me. I have a molly hookup for tonight, if you want. You need to blow off some steam, Kass, or you’re going to self destruct.”