Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of ad serving lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my office door.
"Must be a rep," I muttered, "tapping at my office door--
I don't remember making a meeting," and hopefully nothing more.
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in a meeting in September,
And each separate dying staff member thought the session such a bore.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; --vainly I had sought to borrow
From my notebook an end of sorrow --sorrow for the lost rapport--
For the rare and radiant product whom the clients named before --
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad intrusion hurting me like some contusion
Annoyed me -- filled me with fantastic anger never felt before;
So that now, to still the pounding in my head, I stood repeating,
"Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my office door--
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my office door;--
Let's make this quick, and nothing more."
Presently my nerve grew shorter; (how I hate planning for fourth quarter),
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your compassion I implore;
But the fact is pop-ups was I zapping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my office door,
That I tried very hard to ignore you" --here I opened wide the door;--
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
"Some trick of a mind that's broken, perhaps I'm too soft-spoken?"
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken were the whispered words, "Buy some more!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words, "Buy some more!"--
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the office turning, all my soul within me burning,
Said I to my compatriots, "Do you hear the tapping louder than before?"
"Surely," they said, "must be some weirdo at your office window:"
Let me see, then, what's going on here, and this mystery explore--
Let my rage be still a moment and this mystery explore;--
'Tis the wind and nothing more."
Open here I flung the window, when, like a Bahamanian doing the limbo,
In there stepped a stately site rep of the heady days of yore;
"Let me tell you about our network," and pulling out like clockwork
A PowerPoint deck with graphs and numbers, standing before my office door --
Perched upon an Aeron chair just before my office door--
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this spectral rep beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the kind but slightly desperate decorum of the countenance he wore.
"Though thy deck seems out of date; looks like PowerPoint from '98," I said, "thou art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient sales rep wandering from the Nightly shore--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the sales rep, "Buy some more!"
Much my party and I
marveled to hear this ungainly pitch so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning--little relevancy bore;
No one claimed to have made the meeting, "It wasn't me!" said a planner, bleating
So we could not help agreeing that no media planner breathing
Ever yet had made the meeting with the rep at my office door--
This strange and curious sales rep perched before my office door,
With such name as "Buy some more."
But the sales rep, sitting lonely on the Aeron chair, he spoke out only
That one phrase, as if his soul in that one phrase he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered-but the deck pages he fluttered--
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "are those PC Data figures before?! --
On the hour he will leave me, as my free time has flown before."
Then the rep said, "Buy some more."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
The other planners at my desk thought this man's demeanor quite grotesque
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore--
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Buy - Buy some more.'"
As the presentation kept unfurling and our hair all began curling
We could see the pages flipping, many numbers from web sites past
Then I got that sinking feeling and my head began a-reeling
The specter here wheeling and dealing, was something more than just miscast
The sites read "Infoseek," "Webcrawler," and "Pointcast,"
He said again, "Buy some more."
And the sales rep, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
In that graphite Aeron chair just inside my office door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
Of IPOs that got him screaming about web sites in days of yore.
And my media plan unfinished knows not what for it lies in store
Unless I - buy some more!