Search Results for "good example"
Share July 07, 2017's comic on:
Boss: Can you attend a meeting for Kevin, our new immersive VR employee? Dilbert: Why can't Kevin do it? Boss: Alice needed him for something. Alice: Good. Now do it again, but without your shirt. Kevin: I'm not comfortable with this.
Share July 02, 2017's comic on:
Dilbert: My CPR instructor says I was one of his best students. Topper: That's nothing. I'm so good at CPR that my practice dummy came to life. He grew limbs and got married to a crash test dummy. They had three mannequins together and they live in the suburbs. But the marriage didn't last because the CPR dummy could not forget the taste of my lips. I blame myself for being irresistible. Why do all of my conversations end with me sitting alone?
Share July 01, 2017's comic on:
Dilbert: We're done moving the staff from the open office plan back to cubicles. Now they will be less distracted when they focus on the crushing futility of their assignments. Boss: Good job. Dilbert: If you need me, I'll be in my fabric-covered box.
Share June 08, 2017's comic on:
Ted: You charged expenses to my project code. Dilbert: I had to because I don't have a budget. Ted: This will make it seem as if I went over budget while you didn't spend a penny. Dilbert: Good point. Wally: How's your project coming along with no budget? Dilbert: Better than I'd hoped.
Share June 04, 2017's comic on:
Dilbert: As you know, every project in this company has one idiot on the team. Man: That can't be true. Boss: It is true. I assign one idiot per team to keep them from bunching together. Man: My project team doesn't have any idiots. Dilbert: There's a good explanation for why you think that. Man: I Don't see what that would be. If I had an idiot on my team I would know it. Unless...
Share June 02, 2017's comic on:
Boss: From now on, you must refer to your cubicle as a "modular workstation." The word "cubicle" is demeaning to the people who work in them. Dilbert: I feel so much better now. Boss: Good. I was hoping it would work quickly.
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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.