‘Twas the night before CyberMonday, when all through the warehouse
Every creature was stirring, without a mouse;
The shipping boxes were prepared by the loading dock with care,
In hopes that Purolator, UPS, FedEx, DHL and Canada Post soon would be there;
The shoppers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of deals danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down to pull open my analytics ap,
When on my iPhone there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the office I flew like a flash,
Tore open the laptop and to see all the amazing cash.
The glow of the screen, white, like new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the desk below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But huge numbers, orders, visits, exceeding budgets will soon be near,
With a screen refresh, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment I needed to go to the warehouse and go pick
More rapid than eagles our shippers came,
Our warehouse manager shouted, and called them by name;
“Now Ed!, now Alan!, now Mike, and Pat!
On, Mark! on Elizabeth! on, Tiffany and Matt!
To the top of the rack! to the top of the wall!
Now pick away! pick away! pick away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When you meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the isle-top with scan guns they flew,
With the pick carts full of Roots hoodies, shoes and watches too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard near the roof
The humming and printing of computers in their little booth.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the pipeline more orders came in with a bound.
Hundreds of shipping labels fell to my feet, never printed in blue,
All shiny and fresh, smelling like glue;
Our best shipper with a bundle of boxes he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a mailman just opening his pack.
His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his sweatshirt made of terry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a smokeless pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the fake smoke it made encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, in a green colour I call Kelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the boxes; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up to the top bin he rose;
He sprang to his courier truck, to his team 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 CYBERMONDAY TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!”