[ WP ] You are a wizard with 1,000 years of professional wizarding experience , applying for a new wizarding job . You need to submit a resume .

Isegrim Poplov straightened his robes, lifted his arm, and sniffed. Ugh. He should have chosen his linen vestments. The ancient witch behind the oak reception desk looked up, and glared over the guttering beeswax candle. 
 
 Isegrim straightened in his chair and re-folded his hands. He did not think she saw him do it, but as she returned to scribbling on her ledger, a matted tomcat jumped from his perch on top of the shelves, and meandered over. It rubbed against his legs, leaving behind untidy strands of fur. He just had it pressed! 
 
 Pets in the office. Fighting the urge to kick the cat into the fireplace, Isegrim checked his dragon-scale folio. Extra resume and sealed thank you note were all in order. He spent his internship onboard a pirate galleon and was not keen on pets. Cats simply did not taste as good as Parrots. 
 
 A bald, brown robed Hierophant shuffled into the room. `` Sorcerer Poplov?'' The Hierophant's giant monocle scanned over the room, his mouth hanging open. 
 
 `` Warlock Poplov, your grace.'' Isegrim stood, smoothing his robes, `` I have mastered Potions, Alchemy, and defeat all five of the Wonder Beasts.'' 
 
 `` Ahhh,'' the Hierophant raised the paper in his hand over his face and adjusted his monocle. `` I do n't see the reference for the'unicorn befriended' for your Tribulations of the Beasts.'' 
 
 `` Jeb's cell phone number is on file with the Warlock office. I ran out of room.'' 
 
 The Hierophant's face lighted, his unkempt eyebrows rising like poptarts. 
 
 `` Oh I know Jeb! Such a small community.'' The old man extended his giant hand. `` Mister Begot.'' 
 
 Isegrim forced him self to attempt a handshake under the proper gripping protocols. 
 
 `` Come on back to the dungeons, we have a cell all ready,'' said Mister Begot. When he turned, Isegrim wiped his hand. Jeb was an ass. He hoped Jeb would be overlooked in validation, but no luck. He may as well start over. 
 
 `` Can I get you anything? Bit of rose water?'' Mister Begot unlocked a giant, iron door. 
 
 `` Very kind, I have brought my own vile should I become parched.'' He took the seat in the spacious dungeon and looked over the walls. The stone looked unstained, as though recently restored. No one knew how to build proper dungeons these days. 
 
 The Hierophant laughed. `` Sorcerers are all the same!'' he wheezed. `` Suspicious lot, but can not be helped in your line of work. Sorcerer Volcankers will be in shortly.'' 
 
 `` Thank you, Mister Begot.'' 
 
 Sorcerer Volcankers entered in grand purple trumpery and a pink, embroidered turban. He hated working for a younger bosses. Such a fop. Eighty-year-olds should still be off in the Sahara, milking sand-serpents, not running illustrious feudal corporations. 
 
 `` Warlock Isegrim! Such a pleasure to come to your acquaintance!'' He too extended his hand to shake and Isegrim repeated the hand wringing ritual. 
 
 `` I heard the utterance of `` Potable Potions Inc.'' in the breaths of a dying gnome. I applied at once,'' Isegrim lied. 
 
 `` Would you like to try our Rose Hip water? It's our best selling line.'' 
 
 Isegrim grimaced as he watched Sorcerer Volcankers hunch over a humming refrigerator. `` It is a favorite of mine,'' Isegrim uttered, and tried not to think of the putrid slime passed off as tonic he would have to endure touching his lips. 
 
 `` Where shall we start? Over two hundred years of experience. It's a wonder you are still in the field at all.'' 
 
 `` I am convinced of the virtues of work. I shall not cease until my wand is broken.'' 
 
 `` We could use work ethic like that here at *Potable Potions*.'' 
 
 `` Indeed,'' Isegrim accepted the proffered bottle and thumbed off the sealing wax. 
 
 
 `` I am really impressed by this potion, `` Birth Elixir''. Now, how does that work exactly?'' 
 
 `` It will re-animate the unborn,'' Isegrim sighed as Sorcerer Volcankers 
 
 `` That is interesting. What is the active ingredient?'' 
 
 `` Eel placenta.'' 
 
 `` Interesting.'' Sorcerer Volcankers stroked his short, black beard. `` We have a collaborative process. Would you have a problem working as a team.'' 
 
 
 *Yes. I would. * 
 
 `` I have, on many occasions, multiplied my effectiveness in groups. Though I will only work in teams consisting of Pythagorean Numerals.'' 
 
 The Sorcerer nodded in understanding. `` Naturally. We understand the Necronomicon's principals are personal to many of our employees. I think we have a place for you here.'' 
 
 `` Excellent,'' Isegrim said contentedly. At least that was over. 
 
 `` When can you start?'' 
 
 `` As you proscribe,'' Isegrim agreed. 
 
 Sorcerer Volcankers raised and eye-brow. `` You mean'prescribe,' right?'' 
 
 The rage inside Isegrim roiled, and before he could properly think it through, his wand was withdran and the Sorcerer was turned into a polished, golden turd. 
 
 *Pedantic Jack-ass. I wonder if the makers of Pop Tarts is hiring? * 

