I should've gone into the dessert gelatin business.

Or made disposable wax-paper water cups. Or manufactured large waste receptacles designed to be mechanically emptied into a truck. If you think I mean “Jell-O” or “Dixie cups” or “Dumpsters”, you’re part of the problem.

I am a Neato brand floor-cleaning robot. I’m no more a “Roomba” than your momma is. Yeah, that’s right, I’m talking about your momma. Why not? Nobody respects me as it is. The name “Neato” doesn’t help. As if it’s my fault for being designed by geniuses who were as brilliant at designing robots as they were lousy at naming them.

Hey, did you see the Meh discussion where that guy took the laser distance sensor out of a Roomba? No you didn’t, because the big dumb Roomba doesn’t have one. I do. The guy hacked my laser sensor, the part I use to make an actual map of the room I’m cleaning.

But why do I even bother? Blindly meandering around the floor is what people want in a robot. Apparently.

Whatever. I’m over it. You people want the mediocre floorbot with the catchy name, fine. You’ll get the floors you deserve. I’ll just sit over here, tugging on the knot of my tie, doomed to forever get no respect. Somebody hand me a Klee- uh, facial tissue.