‘Twas the nite before implementation and all through the house,
Not a program was working, not even a browse.
The programmers hung by their tubes in despair,
With hopes that a miracle soon would be there.
The users were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of inquiries danced in their heads.
When out in the machine 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 root beer ).
Her resume glowed with experience so rare,
She turned out great code with a bit-pusher’s flair.
More rapid than eagles, her programs they came,
And she cursed and muttered and called them by name.
On Update! On Add! On Inquiry! On Delete!
On Batch Jobs! On Closings! On Functions Complete!
Her eyes were glazed over, fingers nimble and lean,
From weekends and nites in front of a screen.
A wink of her eye and a twitch of her head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
Turning specs into code; then turned with a jerk.
And laying her finger upon the “ENTER” key,
The system came up and worked perfectly.
The updates updated; the deletes, they deleted;
The inquiries inquired, and closings completed.
She tested each whistle, and tested each bell,
With nary a bomb, 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!”
[Thanks to Randall Woodman]
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