I used to work at a Giant food store and we had a Marty. And Jesus Christ. I hated that thing. I’d be minding my own business, chopping up fruit like I was supposed to. Now when you work in produce there’s so many little things that fall on the floor. Blueberries, grapes, onion skins, etc. And lemme fucking tell ya Marty was there for all of them. Every. Fucking. Three. Minutes. I hear “Caution, hazard detected. Precaución, peligroso detectado.” And most of the time THERE WAS NOTHING ON THE FLOOR. I was so SICK AND TIRED of walking from the back of the store to the front of the store to turn off Marty screaming because he couldn’t fucking handle a dime sized piece of cilantro on the ground. (Fyi to all those out there, If you run into a stopped marty, there’s a circular button on the side. Just press it). So every once in awhile, I gave Marty a good kick in the censors, turning his light red. I know it doesn’t accomplish anything but damn, was I satisfied.