An Offer From ‘ol Nicholas

Frank Sikernitsky with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore


‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the flat,

Not a creature was stirring, not even our cat.

The applications were sent with precision and care,

In hopes that a job offer soon would be there.

The bank account empty, the pantry quite lean,

A year of job hunting, the toughest I’ve seen.

And mamma in her worry, and I in my dread,

Had just settled our fears for a tough road ahead.

When out on the phone there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the chair to see what was the matter.

Away to the inbox I flew like a flash,

Tore open the spam folder, hopeful but brash.

The glow of the screen on the new-fallen emails,

Gave a luster of hope midst my job-seeking travails.

When what to my job-seeking eyes did appear,

But a video sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be ‘ol Nick.

But not as we know him, in red and with cheer,

This Santa was different, and as he drew near,

Dressed in a suit, with a briefcase in hand,

He was a recruiter, the best in the land.

“Now, Hope! now, Chance! now, Opportunity and Vision!

On, Courage! on, Effort! on, Persistence, Precision!

To the top of the pile! To the top of the call!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an roadblock, mount to the sky,

So up to the 10th floor and HR they flew,

With the sleigh full of jobs, and ‘ol Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I settled my head and was turning around,

Down the chimney ‘ol Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed in suit, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tailored, no ashes or soot;

A bundle of offers he had flung on his back,

Each organized well so he could keep track.

The stump of a pen he held tight in his teeth,

And the ink it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a keen face and a pair of suspenders,

That shook when he laughed, of the night’s many splendors.

He was corporate but kind, and old-timey exec,

And I laughed when I saw him, despite the job trek.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his pen,

Let me know that tonight I would not dread again.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his cause,

And filled out the offer; then turned with a pause,

And laying his finger aside the SIGN HERE,

To the chimney he went to just disappear.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the arc of a missile.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove double-time —

“Happy job hunting to all, don’t forget the I-9!”


A parody for 2023