Dilmom: How is work Dilbert? Dilbert: Well, mom...I'm like a fly stuck in a thick tar of despair. Incompetence hangs in the air like the cold stench of death. I'm drowning, and monkeys dressed as lifeguards are throwing me anvils. My job has convinced me that life is a stale joke with no punch line. I long for the comfort of the grave. Dilmom: Next time just say 'it's fine. Dilbert: I enjoy our talks. Dilmom: It's fine.