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.