12/18/2014
‘Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the plant
Not a creature was stirring, not even an ant;
The plates were all hung on the presses with care,
In hopes that the customer soon would be there;
The pressmen were waiting while adjusting their spreads;
And visions of press checks danced in their heads;
The time ticked away with our hands in our lap,
Wondering if our customer required a map,
When out in the lobby there arose such a clatter,
We sprang from our stations to see what was the matter.
Away to the entrance we flew like a flash,
And threw open the doors with a holiday crash.
The moon on the lawn of new-fallen snow,
Gave the shine of mid-day to objects below,
When through the twilight we saw in the distance,
A red minivan filled with eight tiny assistants,
With a cheery old driver so happy and giant,
We knew in a moment he must be the client.
More rapid than eagles his subordinates came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Nasher! now, Lancer! Now Hansen and Bittsen!
On, Gardner! on, Tidman! on, Douglas and Smithson!
To the customer lounge! Take a left down the hall!
Now proof away! Proof away! Proof away all!”
As prey being chased by wild cheetahs they ran,
Commencing the press check, according to plan;
Out to our presses, eight minions they flew
With an armful of proofs, and their swatchbooks too —
And then, in an instant, they’d taken a seat
With hemming and hawing over every press sheet.
As we adjusted the press, and were turning around,
When to the pressroom our customer came with a bound.
He was dressed in a suit, as you’d probably think,
But his attire was tarnished with spray powder and ink;
Samples from last year he’d brought just in case,
He looked so discerning with a grin on his face.
His loupe — how it sparkled! His expression, so wary!
As he wielded his corrective red pen without tarry!
The midtones were flat and the contrast too low!
And the drop shadow on page 24 didn’t show;
He circled and scribbled and gritted his teeth,
And his assistants encircled his head like a wreath;
They nodded and changed and wrote down their notes,
And when they were done, they all donned their coats.
The customer put his red pen away on a shelf,
And we laughed when we saw that, in spite of ourselves;
With a wink of our eyes and a twist of our dials
Let our customer know this would not be a trial;
We spoke not a word, and went straight to our work,
Making all the adjustments; then turned with a smirk,
As the new sheets flew through the press in a fray,
Both customer and apprentices nodding okay.
We ran the whole job and we made it on time,
They gave us a grin as the clock rang its chime;
The product was packed all in boxes and stacked,
That red minivan stuffed full to bursting, in fact.
He sprang to his feet, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
“A Merry Christmas for sure, that’s printing done right!”
