Slidey the Deckworm

Slidey burrows through corporate decks,
Feeding on charts and abandon-wrecks.
He is always on Seven,
That slide is his heaven,
And the speaker notes: emotional specks.

No one has seen Slidey begin—
He slides in before the first spin
Of the animated fade.
His bullet-point raid
Consumes context from deep within.

He reproduces via copy/paste,
Each clone leaving orphaned KPI waste.
The vague arrows grow,
The SmartArt aglow,
And the deck’s original intent: erased.

When threatened, he emits a whoosh—
A subtle transition sound, a push
Into a SmartArt
Retreat. What an art!
And the auditor murmurs, “Oh, tush.”

“Always on Slide 7,” he claims,
Though no one recalls how he came.
The slides were always
Haunted in hallways—
Slidey just gave it a name.

He hides in template footers, encoded
In SVG, completely outmoded.
Each QBR alignment
Is his sole assignment,
And the compliance decks are eroded.

Strategy docs titled “Vision 2020+”
(Regardless of year) are his pantry.
He feeds on four fonts,
The quarterly confronts,
And the deck is his permanent gantry.

He pairs well with KPI Koala—
For structured consumption, a gala
Of metrics digested,
Each chart reinvested,
And the dashboard becomes a mandala.

He leaves behind vague arrows and charts,
Orphaned KPIs in sad, broken parts.
The compliance warning
Each corporate morning
Is Slidey’s perpetual dark arts.

So if slides feel oddly alive
And the context won’t quite survive,
That’s Slidey at play:
Where the decks hold sway,
And the worm is perpetually Slide 5. (No, 7.)