(Sung to the tune of ‘Help!’ by The Beatles)

When I was younger and quite desperate for pay, I worked the help desk for eight hours every day. End users called me up to tell me what was wrong, And now I find, it fried my mind, I worked “the desk” too long.

“Help me if you can, my system’s down! And a reboot didn’t bring it back ’round! Should it make that awful grinding sound? Help desk pleeeeeease, please help me!”

And now my work has changed in oh so many ways, I wrangle data; I’m an MCDBA. But now and then the help desk sneaks into my dreams, I’m taking calls, I’m up the walls, I wake up with a scream.

“Help me if you can my system’s down! I read virus-laden e-mails by the pound! All my data’s one big steaming mound! Help desk PLEEEEASE, PLEASE HELP ME!”

When I was younger and quite desperate for pay, I worked the help desk for eight hours every day. But now I wish that I could travel back in time, I wouldn’t cry, if only I could leave that desk behind.

“Help me if you can my system’s down! Spilled my coffee, now my hard drive’s full of grounds! Lost my pictures filled with women bound! HELP DESK PLEEEEEEASE, PLEASE HELP ME! HELP ME! HELP ME! Oooooooo….”