The Night Before Christmas — In Library IT

T’was the night before Christmas, and all through IT
Not a techie was stirring, no one’s there you can see.
The monitors are darkened, the computers asleep.
Yet off in the distance, there’s a continuous beep.

The techs were at home thus no one was there.
So the beeping caused no worry, and nobody cared.
But deep in the data center something was wrong,
And the beeping continued, like a digital gong.

When out in the night there arose pandemonium,
And scene straight out of a cartoon on Nickelodeon.
With a clattering, jingling noise like no other,
Eight reindeer descended, one after another.

Behind them they pulled a huge flying sleigh,
And they coursed through the night like flying ballet.
On the green line outside they landed with a halt.
That sleigh sounded weird touching down on asphalt.

The driver entered the building by the sliding glass door,
And he soon rode the elevator up to the seventh floor.
He emerged from the lift. Who knew what would transpire?
The hallway was dark. It was like Twilight by Meyer.

Then he dashed to the server room, how he got in who knows?
Doors seemed to open when he touched the side of his nose.
And soon on the monitor he saw something perplexing.
The server was down, the beeping was vexing.

He read all the output, and searched it on Google.
This problem was atypical, he’d have to use his noodle.
As he stood there and pondered and stroked his long beard
The solution to the problem just suddenly appeared.

He called up a terminal and said “I know a few tricks!”
“If the server is broken, I’ll hack in with Linux!”
And in a few moments, that server was owned.
But the beeping continued, the bearded man groaned.

He typed away on the keyboard, his fingers a clatter.
He knew what was wrong, he saw what was the matter.
And with a satisfied grunt, he triggered a reboot.
The server restarted, and the beeping went mute.

The fans spun up loudly, but soon slowed to a murmur,
And up on the screen it proclaimed Windows Server.
He smiled a broad smile, his beard white like the snow,
Which we never see much of here in Phoenix, you know?

He took out of his pocket an eCig to vape.
The steam circled his head and smelled of sauvignon grape.
And soon up on the monitor it prompted “Log on:”
Which he did, humming Physical by Olivia Newton John.

The services he checked, and made sure they’re alive.
The processes were running, the hard drives RAID 5.
Then with a wink of his eye, and CTRL ALT DELETE,
He logged out of the server. It was working now. Sweet!

He spoke not a word, and he left how he came.
On the sign-out sheet downstairs he scribbled his name.
He wished the guard happy holidays, and left with a laugh.
For guard’s children he gave him a signed photograph.

And off to his sleigh, which awaited outside,
He walked with no hurry. Like The Dude, he’ll abide.
They departed, flying west over the neighbourhood wall
“Happy Christmas to everyone! Santa’s on call!”