Here are four languid liarbirds that lounge on a line,
Those four larking liarbirds that begged for my time,
Oh but sadly I didn’t listen…
I turned my feet forward, and kept my nose in the air,
I stepped out on Market St and met a man there.
He said…
Ignore those languid liarbirds that lounge on a line
Sign this NDA now, and give me your time.
I just need a programmer, a coder, a hacker,
a mathematical tough nut to crack cracker,.
I need a digital deducer of differential difficulties that exhibits double-deference to the dereference of a POO’s covariance,
And willingly wrangles contravariant marshalled functors with multiple weak inheritance.
My hypothetical hard programming puzzler needs expertise in eleventeen new technologies,
A minimum of twelve years in each at least I seek,
An unfungible, unflappable, unfinaglible coding beast.
My rare rockstar of ruby-esque artistry,
Is also a notable ninja of npm pedantry,
Steeped in learning deep and theoretical,
And during interview waxed about Big O notation hypothetical.
Who sat and stared at leetcode hards tasked with the best optimization,
And after twenty minutes came to reach the only realization,
That to improve upon the algorithm was a research thesis dissertation.
I sold you on the promise of work from the latest research journals ripped,
But it’s just another CRUD app, with CSS and HTML and legacy Javascript,
You answered lengthy questions about lambdas, inversions and Closures,
to support containers at web scale of all our active users totaling threes or fours.
I outsourced to a region that only spoke a language based on Slavic,
And our DevOps cannot read the error messages and now that’s catastrophic.
We’re funded by DAOs, DAPs, ICOs, and IPOs for capital,
Investor oversight we found incomprehensibly incompatible.
But let us step back and see what we have compiled and built,
It’s just a shity WordPress website of long nights made of manipulation, misplaced loyalty and deceptive guilt.
And now you see me for who I am,
Just another shady, serial businessman,
I stand to make millions, and you might get some,
For every ten bucks in cash I take, you might get you five, fifty, zero or none.
But I will dazzle you with usurious prattle and unpreferred deferred stock options,
A new-fangled investment vehicle that messes with your worldly assumptions,
A ponzi scheme dressed up in code that helps my tax deductions.
And long before that vesting period of one year and four,
You’ll tire of the toxicity and head right for the Market St door,
With a bright future ahead and a failed start-up behind,
Fresh with a crisp new certificated bootcamp in hand.
And next when you step out, on Market Street,
A bespangled-eyed entrepreneur you will surely meet,
A hustler who woos you with weasley words,
And finally, you listen to those four lounging liarbirds,
“Fuck.”
“You.”
“Pay.”
“Me.”