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Man: Did you see my email? Dilbert; Did you mean your two-page document that has about twelve questions for me sprinkled throughout? Man: Yes, that's the one. Why haven't you responded? Dilbert: It's hard to answer that question while being polite. Man: You can be honest. Dilbert: Your email was such a disorganized mess that I assumed everything you do is doomed to fail. I didn't want to waste half a day deciphering it just so I could be on the losing side. With you. Man: Next time, just say you were busy. Dilbert: And I was busy.
Boss: Ted, you have not performed up to my expectations, so I thought I would spend more time coaching you. I'll be with you every minute of the day. Ted: I quit! Catbert: I told you that would work. Boss: I didn't want to believe it.
Never go to a robotic hair transplant center on the same day they upgrade the software. Is that the surgery where they take hair from the back of your head and fill in the bald spot? That's how the old software worked. The new one didn't respect boundaries.
Alice: Does it bother you to work on the old legacy system when the rest of us are doing exciting new things? Wally: I leave work at 4 p.m. every day. Wally: How about you? Alice: Squatters keep moving into my house.
Woman: Can you take a look at the prototype? It keeps crashing. Dilbert: I was just leaving for the day. Woman: It will only take ten minutes. Dilbert: I came to work early so I could leave early and beat the traffic. Woman: No problem. It will only take ten minutes. Dilbert: It's never ten minutes! People always say it will be ten minutes, but it's never ten minutes! I give up! Where is it? Woman: Find it in the lab. I need to leave early to beat the traffic.
Woman: Can you do that by end of day? Wally: It would be smarter to wait until we have the final specs. Woman: I can't tell if you're lazy or wise. Wally: It's all the same thing. Woman: This is a weird gray area. Wally: I'm going to take a quick nap to boost my productivity.
Boss: How's work? Dilbert: Well, since you asked... it's like being trapped in a garbage compactor and no one can hear me scream. All my hopes and dreams have died, along with my immune system and my dignity. The only thing keeping me alive is that food tastes good. I tried to escape into my imagination, but I learned I don't have one. My life has no meaning. Each second is a slow-motion ordeal. Why do I get the feeling you weren't listening to any of that? Boss:My day was good too.