The Dilbert Future: Thriving on Business Stupidity in the 21st Century by Scott Adams

Author:Scott Adams
Language: pt
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
ISBN: 9780887309106
Publisher: Harper Paperbacks
Published: 1998-10-06T22:00:00+00:00

Not a True Story

Well, one day I was riding my bike and a huge dog bit me and left me for dead. On the way to the hospital, a tanker truck ran a red light and collided with my ambulance, creating a gigantic explosion, that propelled me across the street and onto a table at a sidewalk cafe. I started screaming, "WAA-QQO-AAHHH!"

One of the patrons at the cafe was a music producer. He signed me to a five-record deal and drove me to the hospital. That's where I met my drummer.

Most people won't admit how they got their current jobs unless you push them up against a built-in wall unit and punch them in the stomach until they spill their drink and start yelling, "I'LL NEVER INVITE YOU

TO ONE OF MY PARTIES AGAIN, YOU DRUNKEN FOOL!" I think the reason these annoying people won't tell me how they got their jobs is because they are embarrassed to admit luck was involved. I can't blame them. Typically the pre-luck part of their careers involved doing something enormously pathetic.

Take me, for example. I'm a successful cartoonist and author because I'm a complete failure at being an employee of the local phone company.

Despite the fact that my co-workers were so lifeless they were often mis-taken for mannequins, 1 was not streaking past them on my way up the career ladder, I didn't have the hair or height to succeed in management.

Instead, I spent my time mocking successful managers and accidentally preparing for my future career.

I learned to draw when I was a kid because the alternative forms of entertainment were limited. I didn't grow up in what you'd call "a town with intellectually stimulating people." I suppose I could have made friends with the kids my age who were fascinated with the interaction of firecrackers and frogs, but science didn't interest me at the time.

We had a television, but we only received one channel clearly. It required some ingenuity to do any channel surfing, especially since we didn't have a remote control. I would wait until my little sister wandered by and then yell, "Cindy, change the channel while you're up." This was very funny until the millionth time, after which she broke my jaw with a hassock. • •

My only other choices for entertainment were drawing cartoons or playing Scrabble with Mom. Mom took her Scrabble very seriously She was a brutal competitor. In fact, she didn't teach me any language skills until I reached the age of six, because she figured that would give her an edge in Scrabble later on. I was in college before I figured out that Webster didn't really make any last-minute handwritten additions to the dictionary. To this day I still wonder about her claim that head-butting is allowed in Scrabble.

So I ended up drawing cartoons alone in my room because it didn't require any language skills and I wouldn't have to watch my Mom do that damned victory dance on the kitchen table. If I

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