'Twas the night before the "holidays," and all through the state,
No employee was stirring, only I had stayed late.
Generic greetings were hung through the office with care,
To risk offending someone, nobody would dare.

The servers were nestled all snug in their racks,
While Trojans and viruses slipped through the cracks. 
PCs were in standby, the lights were shut off,
And outside the snow fell so gently, so soft.

Then out from the lobby there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
Down through the hallways I flew like a flash,
Tripped on the carpet and earned a nice gash.

The fluorescent light reflected on the window,
Bathing all in my sight with an unearthly glow.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a white full-size van full of new, high-tech gear.

Bearing Cheetos and Pepsi, and quite heavyset,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Net.
Slower than dial-up his support staff they came,
And he belched, then shouted, and called them by name!

"Now, David! Now, Daniel! Now, Phillip and Victor!
On, Charley! On, Caleb! On, Donny and Hector!
Quick, to the data center, quickly I say!
Now dash away! Dash away! All dash away!"

Mountains of paper did suddenly fly,
As the mysterious techies went plodding by.
Down to the basement the support staff they flew,
With a box full of gadgets, and manuals too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard from below,
The cursing of software refusing to load.
I thought I might help, but as I turned 'round,
In through the window St. Internet did bound.

He had broken the glass and was cut up quite bad,
His clothes were all bloody, and he looked rather sad.
A bundle of gadgets he threw on the floor,
Then he ran back to the van to get a bunch more.

His eyes, they were sullen, his dimples distorted!
His cheeks were all pockmarked, his nose all contorted!
His big, gaping maw hung open like a sack,
And years at a desk had put a nice hump in his back.

The butt of a cigarette was tight in his teeth,
And the foul stench he exuded was beyond my belief.
He had a round face and an impressive spare tire,
That didn't fit well with his outdated attire.

He was chubby and plump, a crabby old geek,
And I laughed when I saw him, I could hardly speak!
Then a twitch of his eye and a twist of his head,
Sent a chill down my spine and filled me with dread.

He spoke not a word and went to the underground floor,
He filled our IT shop with new computers galore.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
He hacked and he spit before uttering this prose!

"Quick to the van!" he said with a yawn,
They all piled in as night gave way to dawn.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Don't call if it breaks, Tech Support's off for the night!"

Chad Vander Veen  |  Editor, FutureStructure

Chad Vander Veen is the editor of FutureStructure.com