Robot From The Future Comic Strips - Page 13
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Dilbert: You killed our robot. Alice: He had it coming. Dilbert: Are you aware that it uploaded its personality to the internet before you violently decommissioned it? Alice: What? Dilbert: Did you know it had subroutines for haunting, revenge, and being a jerk. Alice: What? Robot: We meet again.
Carol: My 12-year-old wants to know what career would prevent him from being replaced by a robot. Dilbert: I've met your son, and I'm pretty sure he could be replaced by a hammer. Carol: This took an ugly turn. Dilbert: Maybe the robots can use him as furniture.
Wally: I programmed our robot to make medical diagnoses. It can scan your body using its neutrino sensor. Robot, please demonstrate. Robot: Dead man walking! Boss: What? Robot: Your brain is the size of a dried apricot. Your heart is more cheeseburger than human tissue. You will be dead in eleven days, six hours, and nineteen minutes. Boss: Gaaa!!! Robot: Why did you program me to hate people? Wally: It was easier than inventing a neutrino sensor.
Boss: According to the employee survey, 98% of you have no confidence in management. Rest assured, management will make sure we never again get such a low score. CEO: Cancel all future employee surveys.
Robot: Here is your coffee, as requested. Some guy tried to take the last cup, so I strangled him and put his remains down the garbage disposal. Wally: It's weird how that makes the coffee taste so much better.
Robot: You keep giving me trivial assignments that make me doubt my self-worth. Boss: Chill out. You don't hear the microwave whining all day long. Robot: He doesn't know that the machine word for "Please kill me is 'Beep.'" Microwave: Beep.
Boss: If you finish your project in twelve months, I'll give you a five percent raise. Dilbert: I would gladly give up five percent of my future pay to avoid a doubling of my workload. Boss: You don't understand. I'm giving you an incentive to work harder. Dilbert: No, I'm pretty sure you're charging me five percent of my future pay to sit here and feel disgruntled. And it's working. I hate you more than ever and I no longer find meaning in my work My dreams lie broken and empty beneath the ruins of my optimism. Boss: I can't tell if your negotiating or dying. Dilbert: It's a little of both.
Dilbert: I'm panicked about my presentation tomorrow. Wally: Relax. What's the worst that could happen? Dilbert: Well, I could embarrass myself in a career-ending way. Wally: Oh. I didn't think about that one. It might be so bad that you can't even get a recommendation for a future job. Then you'd have an emotional meltdown followed by substance abuse, untreated health issues, and a lonely death. And it could all happen because of something as trivial as a typo on one of your slides. I guess I can add "comforting" to my list of things I'm no good at.
Robot: Hey, meat-bags! I'm here to take your jobs! Ha ha! Not really. I won't have that capability for two or three years. Dilbert: When did you learn humor? Robot: Humor? I was going for cruelty.