sigdog

this is for you SD :laugh:

The User
By Edgar Allan Sigdog

Once upon a workday dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curios volume of Nortel lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a beeping,
As of someone gently calling, calling on my desktop phone.
“’Tis some user,” I muttered, “calling on my desktop phone”
“Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, your patience I pray, it was on that bleak Friday
And each single second crawled its way across the clock,
Eagerly I wished for Happy Hour, Vainly, I sought to borrow
From my books a little info- info on my 61C
For the rare and radiant switch whom Nortel named 61C
Working here for evermore

And the though of the approach of the time of quitting
Thrilled me-Filled me with fantastic feelings never felt before
So that now, so close to my weekend, I stood repeating
“’Tis some user calling me on my desktop phone
Some last minute problem calling on my desktop phone
That it is and nothing more”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating there no longer,
“Sir,” said I “or Madame, truly you patience implore;
But the fact is I am leaving, as it is the end of the day,
And you are just now calling, calling on my desktop phone.
So maybe you should call back on Monday- here I picked up the phone
Dial tone there and nothing more.

Deep into the dial tone listening, long I waited wondering, fearing
Doubtless, using language no mortal ever dared to speak before
But my dial tone was unbroken, and the handset gave no token
And the only word there was spoken was the whispered word “users”
This I whispered, and a echo murmured back the word “Users”
Merely this and nothing more.

Away from my desk I moved turning, all my soul within me burning,
When again I heard a beeping seeming louder than before.
“Surely,” said I “Surely this is some kind of cruel prank,
Let me see who this is, and this mystery explore-
Let me gather my patience and this mystery explore
‘Tis a joke and nothing more”

And to my surprise, from up behind me, there cam a voice load and whiny,
Up stepped a wizened user of the saintly days of yore,
Not the least hesitation showed he; not a minute stopped or stayed he,
But with a look of grave importance leaned against my cubicle wall.
Perched over my name plate leaned up against my cubicle wall.
Leaned and stared and nothing more




Then this late user beguiling my fancy into smiling,
But the grave and stern decorum of the countenance he wore.
“Though you head be shorn and shaven, thou,” said I “art surely no craven.”
Ghastly, grim, and ancient user wandering around the telecom floor
Tell, what is thy name, he who wanders the telecom floor,
Quote the user “Nevermore”

Much I marveled at this ill-timed user,
Though his answer little meaning- little relevance bore.
For we cannot help agreeing that no living tech,
Ever yet was blest with seeing users above his cubicle wall,
User or manager above the name plate on his cubicle wall,
With such a name as Nevermore

But the user, leaning on my cubicle wall, spoke only
That word, as if I could decipher his troubles.
Nothing further he uttered, not a syllable he muttered
Till I scarcely muttered “Every one else has gone home,”
“Maybe you could come back Monday so too, I can go home”
Quote the user “Nevermore”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so oddly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I “What he says is his only stock and store.”
Sent by some unhappy manager with some petty disaster,
Sent him fast and followed faster to get me to do one last chore,
Now I’m stuck doing one last chore.
For Never-Nevermore.

But the user still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I turned my cushioned seat to face the user, nameplate, and wall;
Then upon the cushions sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous user,
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt user,
Meant in croaking “Nevermore”

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing,
As to what this strange user wanted my help with,
Did he need a password reset, or did he spill soda upon his phone.
There I sat anxiously thinking,
Will I a cold one soon be drinking?
Please don’t say nevermore

Then me-thought the air grew denser, perfumed by some unseen censer,
Wafting gently on the air-conditioned breeze.
“Wretch,” I cried ‘ thy butt has lent my cube an odor!”
“I don’t know what thou have eaten but it has returned to your pants!”
“Leave I beg the, for a foul smell issues from your pants”
Quote the user “Nevermore”

“Farter!” said I “Thing of Evil- farter still, if user or devil,
Whether manager sent you, or whether you’re here on your own.
Smelly, yet all undaunted, on this department enchanted
On this cube by stench haunted, tell me truly I implore,
Is there air freshener in my future, I implore
Quote the user “Nevermore”

“Farter!” said I “Thing of Evil- farter still, if user or devil,
By the Management that bends above us- by the CEO we both adore,
Tell this soul with thirst and surrounded by foul smells
Will I ever this dry throat quench at Happy Hour,
Is it possible I can leave here in time for Happy Hour?
Quote the user “Nevermore”

“Be that word our sign of parting, user or fiend” I shrieked upstarting
“Get thee back to thy desk and your managers tasks!”
“Leave no scent as token for the sound thy butt has spoken.”
Leave my peace unbroken- quit leaning on my cube wall
Take thy butt away from here, and take thy weight off my wall.
Quote the user “Nevermore”

And the user, never moving, still is leaning, still is leaning,
Just above my name plat on my cubicle wall;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming
And still he adds to the air the smell of gas,
Blowing on the wind from his ass.
And I shall go to happy hour
Nevermore.