12/26/2023
‘Twas the week before Christmas, and all across the floor, not a machine was stirring, not even the new Mark IV.
The wires were hung on the wall with care, in hopes that the riggers soon would be there
The operators were nestled all snug in their stations, daydreaming of printing all sorts of creations.
And Prepress in back and Tracy in front had just settled time sheets with only a quick hunt
When out on the dock there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my office to see what was the matter
Away to the dock I flew like a boar, went out to the shop and opened the door
The spotlights on the roof were aglow, giving the luster of midday below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but two flatbed trucks all loaded with gear
With riggers and technicians so full of good cheer, I knew that Konica Minolta must be here.
As I was looking all over and turning around, in through the door the riggers came with a bound.
A knock with their hammers, and a twist of the flathead, soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread
They spoke not a word, but went straight to their work, placed all the components then turned with a jerk,
And giving a hookup to power and air, the system came up, with fanfare;
We sprang to the workstation and set up a job with a glint, the press went whirring, and created great print
They sprang to trucks, the team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle,
But I heard them exclaim, ere they drove out of sight, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
