The Big Boss sat down at his computing machine
And he pressed the go-goer, a button of green.
But the go never went, and the screen stayed dark black,
And Big Boss nearly suffered his third heart attack.
“Oh what should I do now?” Big Boss cried with dismay.
“Computing’s confusing, though I do it each day!
Perhaps I should learn how, after all of these years;
Or just crawl under my desk and cry these sad tears.”
The Time Clock struck nine, and in trudged the commuters,
And the Corporate Board, those old three-piece-suiters,
And sycophants, suck-ups, and Big Boss saluters,
And the I.T. technician, Johnny Cahooter.
“Soon I’ll be in such trouble!” lamented Big Boss.
“If I don’t finish payroll, the staff will be cross!
I’ll have the IT guy scoot in on his scooter,
That computer wizard, that Johnny Cahooter!”
Johnny had to wrestle antique printers that jammed,
And comfort an intern evil spammers had spammed,
And retrieve vital files the receptionist tossed,
But he had to come now, or his job would be lost!
So sighing and yawning, that Johnny Cahooter
Zipped into the room on his small, silver scooter.
“Well, what do you need now?” Johnny said to the boss,
“Shall I wipe off your nose, maybe help you to floss?”
“My computing machine,” the boss said with a hiss,
“It won’t bleep and won’t bloop! There is something amiss!”
“It’s simple,” said Johnny, as he scratched at his chin,
“You’ve forgotten to plug the bleep – blooping thing in!”