Two two, three people, as company bureaucrat, I will today be conducting the annual performance review.
With a twist.
Oh, no.
The firing tie.
Correct.
I will be evaluating each of you, and the lowest-rated employee, possibly Zoidberg, will be fired at sundown.
Zoidberg.
Classic Hermes.
Let the interviews begin.
Good luck, everybody but Zoidberg.
My primary duties? Well, I assist the Professor in whatever important research he happens to be engaged in.
Uh, yes, sir, I will be sure to snore that science lamp right away.
Now, Leela, couldn't we just fire you and have Fry or Bender fly the ship? Not if you stand on their air hose much longer.
Noted.
My job? Toilets 'n' boilers, boilers 'n' toilets.
Plus that one boiling toilet.
Fire me iffen you dare.
Now, then, while many of you do half-ass jobs and the rest do jobs whose ass ratio ranges from 42% to a mere 11%, only the most pathetically useless employee will be fired today.
And that employee is Hermes Conrad.
What?! No way! Hermes, no! Yes.
My performance review proves the main drag on our profit is the time I waste on performance reviews.
But you can't fire yourself now.
We were just getting to know each other.
I've already notified the central bureaucracy.
They'll be here two seconds ago.
I suppose you're here to tell me to pack it in? Only if you buy me dinner first.
I'm being fired.
Meet mark 7-G, the machine who's replacing you.
I'm mark 7-G, the machine who's replacing you.
Will you be conducting an exit interview? Well, I wouldn't say no to a little friendly debriefing.
Bureaucrat Conrad, you are ordered to relieve yourself of duty.
Sounds like a party.
Good-bye.
Well, this is it.
But I want you to know working here has been the experience of a lifetime.
Off you go.
So, I hear you're a machine ow! Traitor! My friend's ample tuchus is barely out the door, and you're already schmoozing up to his replacement? Um, Zoidberg? I don't think Hermes really liked you.
In fact, he hated you more than anyone ever hated anyone.
What, you mean the remarks and the hits? That was just friend teasing.
Oy.
You don't understand.
He was the only one who cared enough to insult me.
I insult you, you fat sack.
Sure, when it's convenient.
But Hermes was always there for me.
And now he's gone, thanks to you, Mr.
bigshot 7-G.
I'll never see Hermes again.
On the bright side, I'll never see Zoidberg again.
Aw, there, there, husband.
I made your favorite, curried goat.
It better be spicy.
Well played.
Ows.
Ah.
Fire.
Aah! It burns! It burns! Hmm, not bad.
Needs a little hot sauce.
I just don't know how we'll get by.
Then I guess this wouldn't be a good time to tell you that I'm pregnant.
What?! And you're not the father.
No! I'm just joking, husband.
See now? Things don't seem so bad any more, do they? You're right.
Thank you, Labarbara.
Oh, also, I wrecked the car.
This here is a mugging! Hand over your skin.
My ebony splendor? Me don't think so.
I said hand it over.
I'm hungry! Ha-haw! Ha-haw! For God's sake, woman, just give him your skin! Can't you see he's crazy?! You calling me cra zy?! Ain't nothing crazy about me but my brain.
Right, brain? Right! No, not you, right brain.
Right, left brain? Right! Okay, then.
Ha-haw! Do something, Hermes.
I can't! When I fight machinery, machinery always wins! Freeze, bagwad.
You're under arrest for attempted epidermicide.
I'm coming for you, man.
Ain't no jail can hold me.
That's why you're going straight to the electromagnetic chair.
And then I'm-a stab it.
Ha-haw! S-s-stop! It's driving me sane! Hey, Bender, you should become an executioner.
You could kill humans and wear a cool hood.
Nah, I like my victims to know who did it.
Psst! Hermes! Boy, am I indifferent to see you.
We need to talk alone.
Okay, Hermes.
Sure.
Fry, could you come in here and help me rub on this new scented body oil? In a second.
I'm eavesdropping.
Please, Fry? Leela punishes me when I don't use enough.
I said not now! Sure, I know a guy.
Yuri here runs the most sanitary surgical implant parlor in Filthytown.
So, I hear you're an expert in the shadowy field of "body augmentation".
I am expert in shadowy field of many things.
I need something that'll make me less inferior to today's modern machinery.
Can you help me? No problem.
I prepare operating room.
Oh, honey, I'm home! Pops?! Is that a harpoon in your chest? Yes.
And I'm happy to see you.
Mmm And the best part is, the whole package fits neatly in the space where my giblets used to be.
I'm kind of a harpoon snob, and let me say, that thing is gorgeous.
But do you really need chest artillery? It's not just a weapon.
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