How Mechatronics Engineers Wake Up

Mathematicians trying to make their field sound fancy: "This is a linear function with slope 2 and y-intercept 3." Engineers who just want to get things done: "Number goes in, gets doubled, add 3, number comes out. Next problem." The elegant simplicity of calling functions "number machines" would save us approximately 4.7 hours of pretentious terminology per semester. I'm submitting this to the International Mathematical Union immediately.

The existential crisis of circuit components is something they don't teach in Electrical Engineering 101. In series circuits, voltage drops across each resistor proportionally to resistance, meaning the first resistor hogs all the glory (and potential difference) while the second one gets the electrical equivalent of table scraps. The first resistor—sitting there like some mystical oracle on a pedestal—demands reverence without explanation, while the second is left wondering where its electrical dignity went. It's basically the academic hierarchy of electronics: full professors vs. adjuncts fighting for parking spaces.

Time-traveling to medieval times with knowledge of the Haber-Bosch process would be a total flop! The meme perfectly captures that awkward moment when your advanced nitrogen fixation knowledge meets blank medieval stares. The Haber-Bosch process revolutionized agriculture by synthesizing ammonia for fertilizers, replacing traditional methods (like good ol' manure). But try explaining high-pressure hydrogen and nitrogen catalysis to people who think the Black Death is caused by bad smells! Medieval farmers: "So you're saying we should stop using poop on fields and instead build massive industrial complexes requiring technology that won't exist for 800 years?" Yeah, that cat's "idk" face says it all.

The Venn diagram of academic sins is absolutely savage! Physicists modeling penguins as cylinders (because who needs biological accuracy?), engineers rounding π to 3 (precision is overrated), and mathematicians defining e with that limit expression that haunts undergrads' nightmares. The overlap is where the real comedy gold happens - approximating sin(x) as x for small angles, treating gravity as exactly 10 m/s², and the cardinal sin of using whatever units make your equations work. No wonder they're all single! Meanwhile, programmers are off in their own circle with x = x + 1 (a mathematical impossibility that somehow works in code), and chemists... well, they're barely even on the diagram. Dating pool = ∅

Engineering students living the Noah's Ark experience—except instead of surviving a flood, they're drowning in homework! The professor demands elegant step-by-step solutions while students frantically cobble together answers from YouTube tutorials, Chegg, and desperate messages to friends. That beautiful chimera of a solution you submit? A Frankenstein's monster of copied methods that somehow walks and talks but makes absolutely zero sense when questioned. The professor's bewildered face says it all—he's witnessing the academic equivalent of watching a giraffe trying to solve differential equations with its hooves.

Engineers are a different breed entirely. While fantasy heroes dream of slaying dragons, engineers who suddenly gain magical powers immediately think, "How can I violate the fundamental laws of physics with this?" The square-cube law is that pesky little principle limiting how big structures can get before collapsing under their own weight. But with levitation? Those constraints go right out the window. Suddenly that 300-foot-tall mecha with impossibly thin legs doesn't seem so impractical anymore. Give an engineer a superpower and they won't save the world—they'll redesign it with "weird shit" that would make Newton roll in his grave.