By Gordon MacMaster
‘Twas the night before analysis, when all thro’ the labNot a consultant was stirring, no more coffee to grabThe algorithms were coded in the system with careIn hopes that the data soon would be thereThe Data Scientists, restless, tired and half deadVisualizations of regressions danc’d in their heads
Tech support on call, and I with a beer canHad just settled my brain, data munging beganWhen from the data warehouse arose a clatterI sprang from my chair to see what was the matterAway to the phone, that rang off the hook“We may be in trouble! Quick take a look!”
I looked at the screen, where the data was displayedMy heart skipped a beat, and I was dismayedWhen what to my blurry eyes should appearBut thousands of errors, it was our greatest fearThe data was scrambled, the analysis was damnedI knew in a moment, it just hit the fan
I sat there in shock, when an idea came to meThen I scrambled and shouted for data quality:”Now! Error, now! Accuracy, now! Bias and Precision,”On! Variance, on! Sampling, on! ANOVA and Correlation;“Use every technique no matter how off the wall!””Now Cleanse away! Cleanse away! Cleanse away all!”
They dove at their keyboards and let their fingers flyBut it was so bad, the analysts started to cryI looked at my computer as the errors ran pastI had to think of a fix, and think of it fast.
And then in a twinkling, I heard at the doorThe Chief Data Scientist, and a few more
They came to my office, it was a bad situationMy boss puts the mean in standard deviationThe data was hosed, the analysis failedI really wish earlier that I had inhaledMy boss hit the screen, and it quickly crackedAnd he look’d like a grey wolf just about to attack
His eyes — how they blazed! Oh what a furyHis cheeks were bright red, rage like a flurry“What happened here?” He wanted to know,“Why is the analysis now a no go?”I trembled inside, gritted my teethAnd opened the dataset lurking underneath
And when I executed the commandAll of the clusters became a wasteland“We can’t tell the Client it is already a failure!”“I have to think of something that I can tell them later!”His flashing eyes and scratching his headSoon gave me to know I had something to dread
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his phoneHe typed out a text, finished it with a groanHe reached into his pocket to do what he plannedAnd handed me a pink slip, I had been canned!“We cannot let anyone know that something went wrong.”“So get out of this office, and don’t take too long!”And I heard him proclaim, as he walked out of sight“That was your two week notice! Keep your mouth shut tight!”
Apologies to Clement Clarke Moore
Bio: Gordon MacMaster - Effective Analytics = Information Superiority = Competitive Advantage
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