"Ho ho ho... So, Timmy, have you been a good little boy this year?"
"Uh, yes, Santa."
"Have you been doing your schoolwork, and listening to your mommy and daddy?"
"Er, well, not exactly. I mean, I'm 37 years old. I'm an IT director for a mid-sized accounting firm. But I call my parents every Sunday! Mostly."
"Well, Timmy, what would you like Santa to bring you for Christmas this year?"
"Memory, Santa. Tons and tons of RAM."
"Well, I don't know, Timmy... I usually reserve the memory modules for the extra-special kiddies at the top of my Nice List. In case you haven't noticed, RAM's pretty freakin' expensive these days. What do you need so much RAM for, anyway?"
"Our firm's migrating to Windows 2000 next year, and Microsoft says it requires a bare minimum of 128 MB of RAM to function properly. 256 MB is supposedly a more reasonable amount. At least, that's what The Register says." (Omniscient producer's note: big thanks to faithful viewer Tony Lucarelli for giving us the heads up...)
"128 MB minimum! Why, that scoundrel Bill Gates has sunk to new depths of bloatware!"
"I know, Santa, but what else can we do? We've been kept on the hook so long, we're completely mired in Windows NT. All of our servers run it. Our whole business depends on it. Our only choices are to upgrade to Windows 2000, or stick with NT 4. I'm at the end of my rope!"
"Well, I'll tell you what I'm gonna do, Timmy. I'll spot you the RAM you need for bringing this to my attention-- on the condition that you redraft your 2000 capital expense budget to include a G4 server box running Mac OS X for "evaluation purposes." Don't worry about it not shipping this year-- Avi Tevanian's on my Nice List, too, and he's getting a nice little chunk of code under the tree. Check it out, do an ROI study, and see if maybe your firm can get the Windows monkey off its back."
"Gosh, Santa, I don't know what to say. You've really saved my life."
"And I know a certain World's Richest Man who'll be finding a lump of coal in his stocking come Christmas Day."
"Gee! Thanks, Santa!" (Beams happily, wipes small tear of joy from eye.)
"Think nothing of it, Timmy. Now get off my lap-- you're hurting me."