Geeky version of the "night before Christmas" poem:
Twas the night before implementation and all through the house,
Not a program was working, not even a mouse.
The programmers hung by their tubes in despair,
with hopes that a miracle would soon be there.
The users were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of inquiries danced in their heads.
When out in the computer room there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a super programmer with a six-pack of beer.
His resume glowed with experience so rare,
He turned out great code with a bit-pusher's flair.
More rapid than eagles, his programs they came,
and he cursed and muttered and called them by name.
On update! On add! On inquiry! On delete!
On batch jobs! On closing! On fuctions complete!
His eyes were glazed over, fingers nimble and lean,
from weekends and nights in front of the screen.
A wink of his eye, and a twitch of his head,
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
turning specs into code, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his fingers upon the "ENTER" key,
the system came up and worked pefectly.
The updates updated, the deletes they deleted,
the inquires inquired, and closings completed.
He tested each whistle, and tested each bell,
with nary an abend, and all had gone well.
The system was finished, the tests were concluded,
the users' last changes were even included.
And the user exclaimed with a snarl and a taunt,
"It's just what I asked for, but not what I want!"
