In the peculiar expanse of the Net Group’s office, amidst the chaotic shuffle of browser tabs and human think-a-lots, there existed an elf – Elfo. With a pointed hat that defied the laws of industrial office decorum and sneaky peaking beneath the hat, there he sat. Unnoticed. Unlively. Unmoving. A few dare say – absolutely irrelevant. 

Nobody quite knew how Elfo found his way into the office. Whether HR had ever properly documented his hiring was a mystery. Still, there he was, a decorative presence, observing the melodious exertions of human sorcerers – developers

Net Group, a place where humans spoke in a cryptic language of acronyms and jargon, left Elfo perpetually puzzled. Once, he was shocked by two bananas hosting a freshmen party. “Just a few moments back they ate a dozen, now these bananas have the guts to host their party?” 

The office artifacts also confounded the elvish observer. The keyboard – a riddle of obscure symbols – had Elfo convinced it was the most awful-sounding musical instrument. “Ah, Net Group Heroes and their disturbing concertos…” he mused, as another finger-bang on an Enter key opened the door to yet another thought.

The clicky thing in their right hand, a mouse-shaped animal had Elfo convinced it was a slave pet for these digital sorcerers. And the crying rubber ducks… “Why,” Elfo mused in the elvish dialect, “do they compress these quacking poor ducks? Is it some form of virtual exorcism or a handshake with some digital CEO? Without question though, the duck’s cry seemed to calm them down… Why,” Elfo mulling over in the elvish tongue, “would they want to make software to support change? Can’t they just use a magical wand and not this JAVA, API, and CSS stuff they keep rambling about?” Yet, Elfo’s elven wisdom whispered that, unlike himself, they were humans. “Their magic is not like ours” he consoled himself with after moments of brief contemplation.

During his days in Net Group’s magical world, he overheard the epic table tennis clashes, the fierce competitions on the table football field, and their chit-chats while eating fruit they later party with. His favorite pastime was deciphering the cryptic language of office jargon. It always seemed to evolve faster than the speed of light.

Time passed like whispers through the ancient world he came from, the magical North Pole, yet Elfo remained down south in the human world. In an ever-shifting cosmos of human sorcerers. 

One day, a wandering developer, armed with a laptop and a blend of curiosity and naivety you need to truly notice Elfo, caught a glimpse of a small elf in the act. Startled, the developer asked, “Who are you, and why are you lurking around the office?”

Elfo chuckled softly, “Lurking? My dear girl, I am merely observing the magic your kind creates. It’s a fascinating spectacle, watching you have zero talent in magic and still making spells of progress despite the challenges and your odd behaviors.”

The developer, now intrigued, questioned further, “What do you mean by ‘spells of progress’?”

Elfo nodded knowingly, “Ah, the enchantments you call technology. Your kind possesses an extraordinary passion to create magic that changes the world. Despite your obvious magical limitations, the most awful musical instruments you constantly tap, you dare to push the limits of your reality. Unlike the magic world Elfo came from, where we have a strict place in fellowship, any human in this magic factory has a voice and the opportunity to truly contribute. It’s quite a rare sight.”

“In our magic realm,” Elfo continued, “elves adhere to strict hierarchies and let our elders make all decisions. Here, everyone seems to be smart, experienced, and, oddly enough, enjoy working together.”As the developer absorbed the elf’s words, she chucklingly responded “Haha, the keyboard? You silly elf. It’s not a musical instrument. It’s our way of communicating with computers. And ducks…” the developer said before briefly stopping, realizing he might be exposing too much “Ducks deserve it.” Then, a curious glint caught her eye. “What’s that in your pocket?” the developer asked, pointing to a small, ornate parchment peeking out.

Elfo grinned again, realizing humans have not even mastered human-computer telekinesis, producing the parchment with a flourish. “Ah, this? It’s a report of your world, scribed in poemic Elvish language. I plan to carry it to the North Pole, a place of magic and wonder. Your world’s tale deserves to be heard in the realms where enchantment is cherished and where, just maybe, some magical inspiration might be drawn from your peculiar ways.” With that, Elfo winked and handed a parchment to a developer.

In Net Group’s maze of clicks and code,
Where keyboards hum and browsers bode,
I’m Elfo, the elf, in a curious pose,
Observing the magic as the story unfolds.

Hierarchies vanish in this digital sphere,
Voices unite, a harmony to cheer.
The keyboard’s clatter, an awful-sounding tune,
Yet, in their chaos, a symphony’s soon.

Without a wand in coding tongue,
The humans write their tech-song.
Yet, they are not like us,
Their magic is different, without a fuss.

A mouse, a companion in their digital play,
And a rubber duck, suffering their way.
A language cryptic, of JAVA and API,
Yet, progress emerges beneath the digital sky.

In this Net Group enchantment, I discern,
A realm where humans continually learn.
Their bonds and ways, a unique strain,
They thrive, undeterred by the limits and pain.

So, Elfo observes, with a twinkling gaze,
In Net Group’s world, where magic prevails.
A report in Elvish, a tale to unfold,
Of humans creating in a digital world.

Happy Holidays from Net Group!

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