Commemorative Poem for Self-Sacrificial Graphic Designers

T'was the night before Paolo Soleri's 90th Birthday,
and all through the Arcology, not a soul was stirring,
except the usual scorpions and centipedes.
The office workers were tired, and one in particular
had spent a sixty-hour work week, trying to make
all the printed, promotional pomp perfect to his desire.
A painted banner was hung in the cafe,
a video was made in Adobe AfterEffects,
most all done in the space of a week or less.
T-shirts were printed,
and there was much whining about them being colored black
under the Arizona sun.
(Eventually we got dark brown too,
but by then the damage was done—
oh well, at least the design is really cool,
and we'll make more in different colors, I promise—like beige!)
An alumni packet was made,
with spirals and swirls on its cover,
the materials to fill it,
all the event lists, activities, and goodies,
weren't made until the very last minute
as committees finalized the event's schedule
the same week of.
(The graphic designer set the deadline for his bosses,
or else he would die!
Would the mixer happen in the Vaults or the Amphitheater?
We may still never know.)
Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go, from 9AM to Midnight,
doing what I love, but wishing it could be done better
Don't take me wrong, I'm not complaining.
I wouldn't do anything else, even if could I wish.
You see, it's time that determines quality,
and planning that makes good execution.
Lack of these things—all of them are a part
of the particular(ly challenging) charm of this place.
If anything, I'm just a sorry perfectionist
who's worked for too many government subcontractors.
I appreciate this place for what it is,
but it's obvious the process
is too rough around the edges
either for me, or it itself.
Hopefully it will all come together tomorrow though,
I'll be working the weekend too.
All without pay, but at least I have the best portfolio now
from Phoenix to Washington DC.
Eventually I'll take the week off
and hopefully then they'll learn
that last minute changes on their part
means hours of extra work (with terrible results) on my part.

Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to bed I go,
before the day Soleri turns ninety,
happy birthday, Paolo,
and to a more organized Arcosanti!