Office Uprising Page #3

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Boom! I just f***ed that clown in the ass.

What's up, Hofnagle? Let me

show you how I just did that.

USA! USA!

America! Woo!

- This is what winning feels like.

- (cheering)

Woman (automated): At Ammotech,

we make weapons of mass protection.

Desmond:
Five. When processing orders,

remember, you are the one in power.

Does it really take this long

to get an order processed by you, Desmond?

It's been over a month,

and I still don't have

that boron silicate hydroxide I want.

When did we, uh, get the robot?

Robots don't have people in them.

This is an XL-9 Patrol Suit.

One of six fully operational models.

First-ever green tech.

Runs solely on organic material.

So when people think

Ammotech, they'll think,

"Friend to the environment."

Oh, I don't care about the environment.

What I do care about is that

if we're up in the Afghan hills

and this thing runs out of gas,

I can just grab an armadillo,

throw it in the back, and continue

to rain hell down on the hajjis.

Actually, armadillos are only

found in Central and North America.

I did a paper on them in high school.

And did you know they can hold

their breath for up to six minutes?

I give zero fucks about

what you're saying right now.

I want those purchase orders double-timed.

Do you understand me?

They're vital to a product

that we are working on.

Got it?

Great. Thanks, bud.

Oh, um, I wouldn't stand

there if I were you.

Why?

(beeping, whirring)

(laughs)

Frohm:
Oh, sh*t.

What?

Desmond:
I didn't have

an official number for this,

but I just thought of it

and it's pretty important,

so let's call it 5B.

If someone's a dick, you have the option

of making their life hell

with your hidden accounting superpower:

Losing the paperwork.

- Man:
I said it's not ready.

- Frohm:
Look,

you're not in charge and it's not your job.

Do you understand?

(indistinct announcement on PA)

What are you looking at, fucknuts?

Get that order in.

Sure thing, Doc.

Desmond:
Six.

To minimize job stress,

practice your breathing techniques.

(soothing music playing)

(coughs, laughs)

(bong gurgling)

Anyway... they shot

a pig with the mech suit

and now I'm, like...

wearing some of it.

(both laughing)

I thought that was a

design on your shirt.

(coughing) I'm okay.

I'm okay.

(clears throat)

To being newly...

(laughing) ...unemployed.

- Yeah!

- (sniggers)

F*** this place, man.

My God, this guy.

(Lentworth coughing)

Desmond:
This bring

us to our final entry,

number seven.

Work on your own sh*t at work.

Every one of us could

get shitcanned tomorrow,

so spend a little time

working on your fallback plan.

William Faulkner wrote one of his books

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