Suppose Edgar Allan Poe Had Used a Computer...

   Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary,
   System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor,
   Longing for the warmth of bedsheets,
   Still I sat there, doing spreadsheets:
   Having reached the bottom line,
   I took a floppy from the drawer.
   Typing with a steady hand, I then invoked the SAVE command
   But got instead a reprimand: it read "Abort, Retry, Ignore"


   Was this some occult illusion? Some maniacal intrusion?
   These were choices Solomon himself had never faced before.
   Carefully, I weighed the options.
   These three seemed to be the top ones.
   Clearly, I must now adopt one:
   Choose Abort, Retry, Ignore...


   With my fingers pale and trembling
   Slowly toward the keyboard bending,
   Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored,
   Praying for some guarantee
   Finally I pressed a key --
   But on the screen what did I see?
   Again: "Abort, Retry, Ignore."


   I tried to catch the chips off-guard --
   I pressed again, but twice as hard
   Luck was just not in the cards.
   I saw what I had seen before.
   Now I typed in desperation
   Trying random combinations
   Still there came the incantation:
   Choose: Abort, Retry, Ignore.


   There I sat, distraught, exhausted by my own machine accosted
   Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor.
   And then I saw an awful sight:
   A bold and blinding flash of light --
   A ligtning bolt had cut the night and shook me to my core
   I saw the screen collapse and die: No No, my database I cried
   I thought I heard a voice reply,
   "You'll see your data NEVERMORE!


   To this day I do not know
   The place to which lost data goes
   I bet it goes to heaven where the angels have it stored.
   But as for productivity, well
   I fear that it goes straight to hell
   And that's the tale I have to tell
   Your Choice: ABORT, RETRY, IGNORE

   Author Unknown