Reviewing Areas of Growth
An amusing situation played out at work today that I thought you’d enjoy, as readers interested in the day to day work life of a Mid-Level Mage such as myself.
I fear no man, but for the sake of caution, no names will be shared as I tell you these stories of my co-workers, and I will try to keep identifying features to a minimum, but not so minimum that it impacts my ability to share what I want in the way in which I want to.
Let’s call the colleague in question Ivy, for reasons that will become apparent soon enough. Ivy is the newest of the mages to rise the ranks and become a Mid-Level Mage like myself, and thus she works in an adjacent area of the demi-plane as I. Each wizard who works at the Grand Celestio Council is assigned an area in which to practice their magic, equipped with the necessary books, magical foci, and physical space to perform the magic, be that desk or summoning circle. But only the highest level mages have private, enclosed spaces to perform their magic. The rest of us work in a sprawling, open aired labyrinth of chairs, books, and desks, with the occasional flimsy dividers. From where I sit and cast my spells, I can see Ivy’s workstation out of the corner of my eye without having to so much as tilt my head, and I can hear all her communications clearly.
It was very early when Ivy got the first call. I had just walked in so Ivy couldn’t have clocked in more than fifteen minutes prior. She responded to the melodious echoing chimes of the incoming magical call in her assigned water basin with convincing rehearsed charm, but she’d barely gotten three words out when a series of yells emitted from the call at a volume only Ivy could hear (so as not to distract the rest of us while taking our own calls). Before Ivy could even respond, the customer of the line cut the call short, leaving Ivy reeling in her seat, processing the quick blast of angered information.
Another mage sitting closer to Ivy than I asked her what happened, but Ivy was already flipping through her notes trying to piece it together herself. She said that the client was yelling about something not working as intended, that he had paid good money to heal his underlings not harm enemies, he was perfectly capable of that on his own, and that he expected a full refund and the service he was promised. In all his yelling, Ivy was never able to get him to provide his name. Ivy also said that the man had mentioned whatever it was he was so upset about had only arrived that morning, and that he had sent it back immediately upon opening the delivery, so Ivy was frantically searching through her records trying to figure out which client had had their magical artifact delivered that morning, so that she could narrow down who this mysterious enraged fellow was.
It was while Ivy searched frantically that she received another fateful call, but being the good co-worker I am, I offered to take the call for her since she was occupied, and thus it was I who put together the horrifying puzzle pieces. This customer was far kinder, and was just calling to let us know there had been a mix up with their order and they had received something other than what they had purchased. This person I spoke to explained that they had received a magical healing blossom, the nectar of which can quickly heal wounds, and while that was a nice thing to have, the customer explained that they would prefer the giant carnivorous vine monster they had ordered.
It was at that moment that the package was returned from the client who’d actually ordered the healing plant, and the tape he’d bound the cardboard with was at its wits end.
We all spent the rest of that day wrangling the man eating plant into a more secure packaging so it could be sent to the client who ordered it, and since we weren’t able to use a drop of magic that might damage the product, most of the mages went home with at least a few square inches of poison ivy burns. But at least we didn’t have to attend the all-hands meeting.
May the moon shine favorably and without hesitation upon you,
Alexan Drytus
