Twas the night before crisis

[Drau]

Twas the night before crisis,
And all through the house,
Not a program was working,
Not even a browse.

Programmers were wrung out,
Too mindless to care,
Knowing chances of cutover
Hadn't a prayer.

The users were nestled
All snug in their beds,
While visions of inquiries
Danced in their heads.

When out in the lobby
There arose such a clatter,
That I sprang from my tube
To see what was the matter.

And what to my wondering
Eyes should appear,
But a Super Programmer,
Oblivious to fear.

More rapid than eagles,
His programs they came
And he whistled and shouted
And called them by name.

On Update! On Add!
On Inquiry! On Delete!
On Batch Jobs! On Closing!
On Functions Complete!

His eyes were glazed over,
His fingers were lean,
From weekends and nights
Spent in front of a screen.

A wink of his eye,
And a twist 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 he turned with a jerk.

And laying his fingers
Upon the ENTER key,
The system came up,
And worked perfectly!

The updates updated;
The deletes they deleted;
The inquiries inquired;
And the closing completed.

He tested each whistle,
He tested each bell,
With nary an abend,
And all had gone well.

The system was finished,
The tests were concluded,
The client's last changes
Were even included!

And the client exclaimed,
With a snarl and a taunt,
"It's just what I asked for,
But it's not what I want!"

[Andyman]

LOL! Okay, let's not put IT people up on that pedestal...their egos are big enough. [img]wink.gif[/img]

[baimun]

Originally posted by Andyman:
LOL! Okay, let's not put IT people up on that pedestal...their egos are big enough. [img]wink.gif[/img]

<font size="2" face="Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif">HEY!!!!.... [img]mad.gif[/img]


[img]confused.gif[/img]

... it's a fair cop.

[-megalithanod]

<u>The Running of Three-Oh-Three</u>

There are bugs adrift on the midnight shift
That cannot be foretold.
The audit trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold.
Debugging nights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was the that time on the way to delivery day
I ran test three-oh-three.

Now three-oh-three in its infancy
Was simple and sublime;
A bit set here or patch put there;
All done in record time.
"A trivial test is always best,"
The experts love to state;
But a test gone sour at the midnight hour,
Is a test you come to hate.

All through the day we slugged away
At data errors in store.
Talk about dumps! They lay in lumps
On every foot of floor.
The printer's stammer beat like a hammer
In sonic tyranny.
It wasn't much fun and we hadn't yet run
The infamous three-oh-three.
That very night by the lonely light
Of the empty Coke machine,
The problems solved, we all resolved
To embark on the next day clean.
"Just one more test," does the boss suggest,
"Before we end this session.
You're doing well, I'm proud to tell,
But humor this last obsession."

We were really beat; we'd been on our feet
For eighteen hours or more.
Our eyes were glazed and through the haze,
We could not tell "NEITHER" from "NOR".
But he smiled and said, "Before the bed-
Just one little test to run;
And if you do, I'll tell you true,
Next payday you'll have fun."

Now talk about pay was an eloquent way
To make our adrenalin rise;
And one little pest of a simple test
Was a trivial enterprise.
We fell for his tact and swore a pact
That before the hour would come,
Our victory over three-oh-three
Would be absolutely won.

We said,"What the heck," and loaded the deck,
Then toggled the bootstrap switch;
But the ROM was burned and a bit was turned--
'Twas the ever present hitch.
We keyed-in code as in days of old,
With nary an audible murmur;
But beneath our breath, we snarled of death,
Misery, mayhem, murder.

I loaded the patch; the floppy was scratched,
Its backup locked in a drawer.
I cursed the slob that did that job,
A damnable disc destroyer!
We reversed ten yards, picked up the shards
Of a version he'd discarded.
It rankled like hell--it was sad to tell,
Each bug was disregarded.

I shouted, "Nix! I refused to fix
A bug that's been glossed over!"
I flung my pencil, listing, stencil
In disgust I went for the door.
The boss called me back, gave me a pat,
And said it's night he'd remember.
He promised booze and great reviews,
And a bonus in December.

Just one more hour, with tempers sour,
'Til we could try again.
That code was mangled, tortured, tangled
Unstructured, dumb, inane.
But after a while we began to smile;
We'd corrected every blunder.
Just one little test and we could rest
In sweet repose and slumber.

I hit the key for three-oh-three,
But the system wouldn't have it.
I tried once more from the monitor,
On the very of throwing a fit.
The more I tried, the more I cried
As the output mocked by silence.
It wasn't fair--I tore my hair;
The time had come for violence!

I kicked the frame and kicked again;
The printer burped the beginning.
Ignoring the risk, I stomped the disc,
Sure now that I was winning.
I relished the hate as I beat the tape,
Enjoying its rewinding.
That proc knew fear! The fact was clear
From its internal grinding.

With every hit, I advanced one bit;
Approaching the conclusion.
My fists were sore, replete with gore,
Abrasion and contusion.
The tapes were rocking, no more mocking:
I drove that system, Beaming!
And by morning's light, the end in sight;
I knew I'd soon be dreaming.

But then its bowel began to howl--
My guts turned into jelly.
The metal shrieked, disk platters streaked
Across the room pell-melly.
About the hall, from wall to wall,
They dove at us; we cowered.
One did a flip, and in a nip,
The boss was disemboweled.

It didn't wait, but threw a tape
Which bounded and entangled.
The loops unwound, around and round;
My partner died--enstrangled.
The printer dumped, gallumped and thumped
The platen leapt and zoomed.
As in a dream, there was a scream;
The analyst was doomed!

There wasn't much fuss for the rest of us--
Just fracture and concussion,
An eye gouged out, a busted snout,
From which the red was gushin'
As for the fire, you shouldn't inquire;
Nor of the flood that followed.
Those with skin called next of kin:
The memory forever hallowed.


There are bugs adrift on the midnight shift
That cannot be foretold.
The audit trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold.
Debugging nights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was the that time on the way to delivery day
I ran test three-oh-three.