M.T.S.T. Operator's Lament

This is the very first poem I wrote as an adult. The source is my very first job after college. The events are real! This precursor to today's computer almost beaned me during a malfunction!

M. T. S. T. Operator’s Lament

 

 

As I was running the monster one day,

I heard a queer noise down the machine some way.

It sounded like muttering, ended with a grumble.

I turned and I looked and the monster was in trouble.

 

It lit up its lights and blinked, then it said,

“Be careful, dear girl, or I’ll knock off your head!”

Warily I typed, warily it recorded,

Then suddenly it laughed and in an orbit aborted,

Hurled its element on course for my bloodshot eyes.

 

In my haste to draw back, I tripped over my chair,

But successfully intercepted the missile in air.

The monster, undaunted, continued to glare,

Said “Try to type on my keys if you dare.”

 

My composure well rattled, I proceeded to type,

Hitting R-e-a-l-t-o-r.  Instead of the “r”s, my

Paper had “h”s.  With a cry of anguish, I grabbed for

Ko-rec-type.  “You fiend!”  I cried, “Give me a break!”

The monster just muttered and flashed its lights.

 

From far back in my chair, seeking premium distance,

I sat and considered this baffling instance.

A sizzling sound coming from near,

Strained and baffled and bothered my ear.

 

“Siegfried, you demon, what now have you done?”

Just as day’s ending, my trouble’s begun.

Siegfried, old boy, hotter than a tea-kettle,

Was trying to fuse tape-console metal!

 

A snarl in his tapes brought his glee to an end,

As my breathing resumed and my nerves unbent.

 

When next my finger fumbled for the keys,

The monster gave forth with a dreadful sneeze.

“Now what?”  I cried, as I glanced at the clock.

Time running out, the key-board had locked!

 

Power on--, power off--, power on--, power off--,

Only blinking lights,  .  .  . no typing.

Siegfried, do something!  The monster rumbled

And sizzled and sneezed yet again.

I threatened, I told it, “I’ll call I.B.M.”

 

The long hand crept forward on the menacing clock,

Siegfried trembled and quaked, his key-board unlocked.

 

                                        Donna Dettmering, February, 1972

 

Copyright © 2006 Donna M. Jitchotvisut

Author's Note

This poem was published in my employer's company newsletter, "The Illuminator," in February of 1972. I understand that a copy was given to the I.B.M. customer service engineer for my company's account and I.B.M. published it as well. (Again, my preferred gendre is narrative.... But I hope the reviewers will enjoy this anyway!)