Cross-Lodge Orientation Packet

The failure was quickly erased,
And with “new conditions” replaced.
The system is fine,
Just fully offline,
A fact we have firmly embraced.

The lodge has elected a chair,
To govern the basement’s cold air.
The minutes assert,
The draft is alert,
And handles the plumbing with care.

We noticed the ledger was blank,
We didn’t have someone to thank.
We stamped it approved,
The paper was moved,
And stored in the basement’s old tank.

The perfect success was locked down,
And wears a procedural crown.
The auditors say,
It wanders away,
To haunt the adjacent old town.

The banner was folded in twain,
Provoking a massive campaign.
The council convened,
The fabric was cleaned,
To ward off the ultimate bane.

The clerk took a walk down the hall,
And looked at the chart on the wall.
He noted the space,
Returned to his place,
And answered a standard phone call.

The handshakes are sorted by weight,
And shipped as a pallet of freight.
The tracking suggests,
They failed all the tests,
And enter a liquid-like state.