'Twas the night before RIF’mas, when all through Basking Ridge
Not a creature was stirring, not even Dan the Smidge;
The severance packages were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that HR soon would be there;
The plebs were nestled all snug in their cubicles,
While visions of VSP’s danced in their heads;
And Hans in his chefs hat, and the board he tapped,
Had just settled down for a long golden parachute victory lap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the br---t of the new 5 ghee
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects in front of me,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature Shankar the gutless leader.
"Now, Sampath! now, Berland and Epps!
On, Hammock! on Paasche! on, Sharpe and Skiadas!
To the top of the stock options! to the top of the culture toxin!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the Webex
A meeting invite for me and no one else.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
On the call my supervisor and HR came with a bound.
They spoke not a word, but went straight to their work,
And filled out all the severance paperwork; then turned with a je-k,
They sprang to their feet, and gave a look,
And away they all flew the town like a crook
But I heard them exclaim, ere they ran out of sight,
HAPPY RIF’mas TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!