Dear Daniel, (No ‘Mr. Snyder’ for me. I thought a first-name basis gave it a personal touch, while mentioning his full first name kept it formal. Calling him ‘Dan’ wouldn’t get him to read passed this point. Remember, it’s the little things about cover letters that get you to the interview stage. ((Also, the parenthetical comments were not included in the actual cover letter, it’s just an editorial aside. You don’t think I’m that dumb, do you?)) I think he would appreciate my conversational tone.)

I’m ready to fuck shit up, are you? I’m sure you are sad to see your former COO, Dave Donovan, leave, but as we say in south Philly, he’s a “dunion,” a.k.a. “you’re done son!” Now that he’s in the rear view, we all know it’s time for the replacement search to begin. Enter: your boy.

Operations are the heart of your organization, anyone with half a brain can tell you that, even if they’re from Dallas (pulling out the rivalry card early here in an attempt to tug at the emotional heartstrings, we’ll see if it pays off). It’s important that the organization continue to turn a profit, even during these tough and uncertain times. Speaking of, this lockout is some bullshit, right? I mean seriously, fuck that. If I were your COO before this whole mess escalated, I would have never let it happen in the first place. They wouldn’t be calling it the “Lockout,” they would have been calling it, “Andrew Marson’s first-round knockout,” because I would have gotten a deal done on day one. I would’ve been like, “Yo, it’s time for these two sides to come together like buttcheeks and make something happen! Oh you don’t like it Drew Rosenhaus? Well guess what? Oops, sorry, was that your face? That was my fist, you probably didn’t get a good look at what happened there. Now sit down and make some concessions! That goes for all of you! And whoever thought they were slick ordering lunch for everyone without me gets no signing bonus! I caught that delivery boy in the lobby with all the food, and now he’s duct taped to the roof of the building. You all better starting talking for his sake! No one’s getting their flatbread panini until a deal gets done! You hear me?” Real talk, I get things done. You might notice on my resume it says, “Running shit — April 21, 1986-present,” that’s because I’ve been doing it since the day I was born. Recognize.

Now back to the real aspects of the job. The belly of the beast, if you will. I know I might seem young, and truly I am. I’m also really good looking. Are you really going to tell me you can spin those two things into a negative? If so, then you’re a sell out, and I’m not buying it. Did you get my Lil Wayne reference? I love Weezy, dog. Lil Tunechi? Seriously, leggo. I’ve got big ass plans, allow me to give you a little taste. First, let’s discuss the title of Chief Operations Officer. During my tenure in the workforce, the word “operations” has been replaced with the slang term “ops.” Maybe you’re new to the phrase. We gotta start calling it “ops,” it’s the only way to get ahead of the curve. Second, we gotta take this shit bilingual, dude! Spanish-speaking areas are a largely untapped resource of the revenue pool, and I can relate to that demographic. I minored in Spanish in college. We’ll need a good PR campaign, something that can crossover. For the first 18 months of my tenure as COO, everyone will refer to me as “El Jefe de Ops.” I will make pre-written speeches in Spanish once a month, and will offer to do any press conference in Spanglish. You can’t hate on that. That’s some non-profit, community outreach-type shit right there. Next on the agenda after that gets set, is making bank. I’m talking windfall cashflow on another level. For examples of how I’ll do that, I will refer you back to the “Running shit” part of my resume and let that speak for itself. BOOM!

Finally, I know I wouldn’t get to handle player personnel, at least per se, but you know me, I like to dabble. I’d inject some serious youth into this roster. Bring in some hungry go-getters that will break their back for this team on the cheap. All these old, overpriced players are getting shown the door on sight. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the organization does it tastefully. I will be there at the door with a party favor-style bag of goodies that will include a Groupon for a deep tissue massage, an informational pamphlet on Hoverounds, and a travel size box of Just for Men: Touch of Gray, for each player. That will keep us in their good graces. Five years from now, we can invite them back for an alumni banquet where we can solicit them for donations to our capital campaign to bring a football stadium back to the District of Columbia.

As for the biggest problem player, Albert Haynesworth, I’d keep him around just to drag him through the mud. I’d throw some anti-failure clauses into his contract to get more out of him. Prime example, for every game he didn’t record a sack, he would be forced to “make it rain” on homeless people for at least an hour after every practice (minimum three stacks for homeless males, five stacks for homeless females, plus an additional $1,000 for any additional services rendered from that individual). Dude’s pockets would be getting thin quick, especially since I’d never play him. Since it appears that only money talks with Alby, I’ll show him how to have a conversation in this bitch. Get it? Weezy again dog, I can’t help it.

So that’s me. You can take it, you can leave it. You’ll probably take it though. Get at me. Time to do the thing, that’s word to your wristwatch. Get it? Guess who?

Kindest regards,

Andrew Marson

The plot: Minnesota Vikings defensive end Jared Allen and Always Sunny’s Rob McElhenney star as a pair of overachieving and underachieving brothers, respectively, who cannot get beyond their life-long sibling rivalry. Antics and hilarity ensues in this off-the-wall comedy of familial haves and have-nots. Think “Black Sheep” meets “Step Brothers.”

Your thoughts? See any resemblance?

Steven Slater Quits Job