The president of our company wrote this prior to our auditor arriving for our BRC audit. Name of auditor replaced with *
A Visit from St. ____
With apologies to; Clement Clarke Moore
'Twas the night before BRC, when all through the shop
All the workers were hopping they were ready to drop;
Procedures were vetted, and double checked with care,
In hopes that St. * soon would be there;
The workers were confident, secure in their heads;
While visions of process danced ‘cause of their meds;
And JP in his office, and I to my sorrow,
Had just settled our brains for the audit tomorrow,
When out in the plant there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what the f*** was the matter.
Away to the warehouse I flew like a flash,
Tore into the plant - JP even dropped his stash.
The lights with their glint of shatter resistant glass,
Gave a lustre of twilight to inventory below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a semi of milk powder; Meals-on-Wheels stuff ready to go.
There was the auditor, Mr. * the name.
I knew in a moment it was * of fame.
More rapid than eagles his audit requests were sent,
And he whistled, and shouted, as our employees did vent:
"Need schedules! Need audits! Need training and tests!
More documents! And samples! BRC wants the best!
From the top of the racking! to the foot of the docks!
He tested and sampled and questioned our locks!
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So all over the office the paperwork flew
With ledgers of documents, and St. * too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard at the door
The knocking and pounding wanting data – even more.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Across the office St. * came with a bound.
He was dressed all in white, from his head to his toe,
And his clothes were all cleaner than a rack cleaned by Joe;
A laptop of info was tucked under his arm,
And he looked like his findings could be summoned with a charm.
His eyes—how they twinkled! When findings appeared,
His fingers captured info - no issues deferred.
His shoes tied tight the laces - a bow,
And the skin on his hands was as clean as new snow;
The stump of a pencil he held tight in his teeth,
And the aura of expertise, encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a cragy face and a washboard like belly
A veritable image of Daniel Craig from the telly.
He was clean-cut and neat, a pro through and through,
But I quaked when I saw him, didn’t know what to do;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled in reports; then he turned with a jerk,
And laying his hand on the table nearby,
He gave a knowing look as a spider dropped from the sky.
He sprang from his chair, to the arachnid gave a nod,
And marked us right down – no bugs on this bod!
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“BRC is the certificate you wanted – ALL RIGHT!”