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You've always been so easy to manipulate, and now I'm told that this is bad; You make me feel so smart, but let me look so dumb; You helped me feel so superior to ten-key users and aged linear-coded calculations; You let me run wild and left me to sort out the #VALUE! messages of rejection. I'll miss my willy-nilly use of your tools, your formatting, and the carefree hours of unbridled data imports. I've long loved you and sung your praises, worshipped at 3am at the alters of pivot tables But now must bind you at the F9 to keep from spilling my secrets. Forgive me my change control, my passwords, my limited circulation of your greatness; Ignore that you must now be sequestered away in a dark dingy corner of the shared drive. Remember our days of goal seeking IRRs, and despising the rain even as we backed into forecasts so that we could escape the drudgery of budgeting.
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