In the past, any enterprising young worker could find work in the local secret society. If you were willing to put in a little extra elbow grease and looked halfway-decent in a cloak, you could confidently expect to become a supreme grand master and own your very own Hyundai. But times have changed. In this, the information age, ministration of the deep rituals has become corporatized, and a Hyundai is no longer considered a luxury automobile. As we become more and more focused on the bottom line, we’ve lost sight of the human factor, the special relationship between a hidden cabal and its mysterious devotees. The corporate structure of modern conspiracy harms the common conspirator, and it’s about time we join gloved hands in solidarity.

Consider health care: since 1954, the price of unholy healing philtres, the ingredients of which must never be named, has risen by 58%, adjusted for inflation. Meanwhile, alembics, phlogistons, and fax machines have fallen in price and grown in efficiency. Over the same time period, the industry-standard starting wage for a wizard’s errand boy has remained stagnant at its pre-Nixonian level. The working acolyte has become even more invisible than intended.

Whether you serve a dreadlord, hooded priests whose faces are perpetually in shadow, the keepers of ancient scrolls, or Sam’s Club, you need not negotiate your wages alone anymore. We accept members from every chapter, guild hall, coven, or Quizno’s in the world where mysterious figures collude in hiding. Let the downtrodden disciples of this Flat Earth rise up as one! Join the Hidden Acolytes of the World! You have nothing to lose but your cowls!

— M. Nobel