Six thirty in the evening. As the executive staff at some anonymous high-tech company heads out the door, to their luxury cars parked in reserved spaces near the front of the building, to yet another evening of wining and dining clients and/or investors in fancy restaurants--all at company expense, a group of programmers (behind on a management-imposed schedule) sighs and prepares for yet another late evening at their workstations (The preceding image is rendered, of course, in CGI animation). One of the engineers, who by no strange coincidence looks a lot like the British rock star Sting, climbs up onto his desk and breaks out in song.
I... want... my....
The other programmers, stunned, stop what they are doing and look up at their colleague; gravely concerned for his sanity
I... want... my... M. B. A
Eerie high-tech music fills the room; first a single electric guitar with a synth background; then the mood is shattered when the guitar is joined by a power drum solo.
I... want... my... M.B.A
The dramatic tension of the music builds up to a climax--which is then relieved by a wicked guitar lick. All the other programmers get up on their desk and start dancing to to the beat; one grabs his mouse and holding it like a microphone, begins to sing
Now look at them assholes, that's the way you do it
You drink through college, get your M.B.A.
That ain't working, that's the way you do it
Options for nuthin' and play golf all day
That ain't working, that's the way you do it
Let me tell you, those guys ain't daft
Maybe get a decrease in your yearly budget
Maybe get a decrease in your staff
The rest of the beleagured programmers join in
We get to install enterprise components
Custom forms and query screens
We gotta code these applications
We gotta code these Java Beans
Anther programmer picks up the mouse. The janitor looks in, thinks about calling security, decides he's not paid well enough, and goes to clean the restroom
The little brown-nose with the Gucci and the Rolex
Yeah buddy, that's the bozo
The little brown-nose has a black Mercedes
The little brown-nose he's a CEO
We get to install enterprise components
Custom forms and query screens
We gotta code these applications
We gotta code these Java Beans
A passing security guard hears the commotion and peeks in. Seeing what is occurring, he does get on his walkie-talkie and call for backup. A third programmer picks up the mouse and begins to sing
I should've learned, to hit a five-iron
I should've learned, to kiss some ass
Look at it, they're always talking to their brokers
Man, and we could make some cash
And they're up there... what's that? Industry buzzwords?
They're laying out the bullshit like its election day
That ain't workin, that's the way you do it
Options for nothing and play golf all day
We get to install enterprise components
Custom forms and query screens
We gotta code these applications
We gotta code these Java Beans
A fourth programmer takes the mouse
No, no, that ain't workin. That's the way you do it.
Drink through college, get your M.B.A.
That ain't workin, that's the way you do it
Options for nothing and play golf all day
Options for nothing.... and play golf all day
Options for nothing.... and play golf all day
Look at that! Look at that! Look at that!
I want my, I want my, I want my M.B.A.
I want my, I want my, I want my M.B.A.
At this point, a horde of security guards and policemen raid the office, rounding up the programmers and hauling them away.