Twas the night before RIF-mas, and all through the store, not a salesman was selling, not one through the door. The severance was printed by HR with care, in hopes that the shareholders soon would be there.
The "V-Team" was nestled all stressed in their beds, while visions of metrics danced in their heads; And supervisors anxious, and I in my cap, had just settled down for a restless, short nap,
When out on the network, there rose such a clatter, I sprang from my laptop to see what was the matter. Away to my Outlook I flew like a flash, to see who was cut to save corporate cash.
The glow of the monitor on the newly fallen snow gave a lustre of panic to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a mass email sent at the end of the year,
With a little old driver, so lively and grand, I knew in a moment 'twas the boss of the Brand. More rapid than 5G his notices came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Retail! Now, Network! Now, Admin and Billing! On, Tech Ops! on, Support! The numbers are chilling! To the end of the quarter! To the side of the wall! Now slash away! Slash away! Slash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with a budget, they mount to the sky; So up to the C-Suite the profits they flew, With a sleigh full of bonuses, and dividends too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the call the prancing and pawing of the Town Hall. As I drew in my head and was turning around, the reduction in force came down with a bound.
He was dressed all in suits, from his head to his foot, and his reputation was covered with ashes and soot; A bundle of pink slips he had flung on his back, and he looked like a reaper just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they shifted! His dimples, how scary! His outlook was bullish, his logic was airy! He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and fired the veterans; then turned with a je-k,
And laying a finger aside of his nose, And hitting "Reply All," up the stock market rose; He sprang to his limo, to his board gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight— "Happy RIF-mas to all, and to all a good night!"