Okay, so I’m gonna preface this story by saying that I was not the smartest kid growing up.

And no more
is that, uhh, exemplified than in this story - this is the story of how I blew up my childhood microwave.

Uhh, so it all started when my dad and I, ironically, are watching Iron Chef. My dad’s just kinda sitting
there, beer in hand, and he goes “Wh-wh-why’don’t’cha go uhh, uhh, microwave me a pizza?” and I go
“How long do I put it in for?” and he goes “I dunno. Twenty seconds?”

So I go to the fridge, I take out a slice of pizza, put it on a plate, open up the microwave, put it on the
tray, close the microwave, and HERE’S where the disconnect happened: in my little seven or eight year
old brain I thought “Twenty seconds? Twenty minutes!”

So I punch in twenty minutes, hit start, go back and sit down. Maybe like three or four minutes pass by,
we start smelling the smoke coming from the kitchen. So we go in there, sure enough, whole thing’s on
fire.

Like, there’s no salvaging this microwave at all. Umm, and my dad starts yelling at me and I start crying
and…

the thing that gave me the most comfort when I was younger is, uhh, are you guys familiar with Dilbert?
The comic? It’s a comic written about boring office workers FOR boring office workers?

For some reason that was, like, my… my, uhh, solace in the day: is to go under my bed and read Dilbert
so, sure enough, went under my bed and started reading Dilbert.

And I think the title of the book was, like… uhh, oh th-th-the title of the book was a joke. It was “What
do you call a sociopath in a cubicle? A coworker.”

I didn’t know what all of those words meant, so… That’s the story of how I blew up my microwave and
then read Dilbert.