Warning
When I am a senior analyst, I shall draw flow charts
With ER diagrams, which combination doesn’t go, and doesn’t
make sense.
And I shall spend half the year’s budget on a CASE tool
That doesn’t work, then say we have no money for PC upgrades.
And I shall advise others on coding issues about which I know nothing.
And I shall refer to other people’s time as ‘programmer utilisation’,
Strolling into the office saying ‘We really have to get utilisation
up’.
And I shall call emergency meetings, and then turn up late,
But some mornings get in really early,
Ostentatiously making notes on my Psion as my colleagues arrive.
You can answer your phone on hands free,
Make everyone adopt your personal taste in naming conventions
Then blame it on ISO 9000.
You can call directors by their first names to their faces
And move the training video TV onto your desk to watch The Simpsons.
But now I must work to 7.30pm on Fridays,
And fill in timesheets marked in 15 minute intervals,
And smile prettily when booking the holiday time which is mine,
And generally be a Good Girl.
Perhaps I should practise a little now
So people aren’t too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I become a senior analyst, and draw flow charts.
What do you mean: how will we tell when you’re practising?
Upgraded Spanish Postcard
It’s ActiveX to bed and ActiveX to rise
Only the tourists outnumber the flies.
(I never thought I’d find myself saying it,
but this used to work better when it was ‘OLE’.)
The Foreshortened Alphabet
Said A to B ‘I don’t like C
Its syntax does my head in.’
Said B to A ‘That’s quite okay.’
And the poet snuck a Z in.
The Browser
Once upon a Wednesday morning, I was stretching, I was yawning
One more surfing day was dawning, surfing to the Net’s far shore.
Hung my coat up, got my beverage, went to check up on our homepage -
But the browser didn’t show the corporate logo as before.
Gone was our fine corporate logo, ‘File not found’ was all I
saw.
Gone, and to return no more.
Couldn’t help but feel dejected - file does exist, not read protected
This is not what I expected from my browser version four.
Checked my bookmark, checked my spelling, found no cause nor reason telling
Why the program was rebelling instead of working as of yore.
But each time I clicked the Reload I got Error Four-Oh-Four
Wretched Error 404.
Tried to look up dear old EXE, some MS promo ActiveX-ey,
Tried a naughty site most sexy that La Whitehouse would abhor.
Tried for Yahoo, AltaVista, tried the home page of my sister,
Even tried to get on HotWired though their GIFs stick in my craw.
Could not even get on HotWired where I think the artwork’s poor -
Quoth the browser ‘404’.
Time to end procrastination - must find out the explanation
Nail this useless application - time to grasp at every straw.
In a mood of techie fervour: verified domain name server,
Pinged to Demon, did a hop check, even crawled upon the floor.
Crawled about to check the cable, sweating freely from each pore.
Still 404 and nothing more.
‘Cur!’ I cried with sudden passion, ‘gizmos may be all
the fashion,
But I’ve really had my ration - this has got beyond a bore.
Take away your stupid Java, and your client-side script palaver,
Take away your push technology - stick them where they make you sore!
You’re rotten to your stinking core!’ I banged the keyboard
with my paw.
No prize for guessing right the score.
Then crept upon me coldest terror: I will never clear this error
That I’ll always hit this error, error that I can’t ignore.
So now you’ll find me quietly moping, with Web-less life I’m
poorly coping,
I’ve very nearly quit from hoping to reach the Net beyond my door.
Shall I ever see the Web-net instead of error 404?
Quoth the browser ‘Nevermore.’
PS: Later: actually it was a proxy server problem, as it turned out.
Verity Stob apologises humbly to Jenny Joseph, Roger McGough, Spike Himself and Edgar Allan Poe.
