Rolando: Dunder Mifflin, this is Rolando. Oh yes, she's been expecting your call.
Rolando: Karen? He's on line one.
Karen: Thanks Ro. Hey, we finally connected. How's Scranton?
Karen: I am the regional manager of Dunder-Mifflin Utica branch. Turns out it's a pretty easy gig when your boss isn't an idiot and your boyfriend's not in love with somebody else.
Karen: Look, All I'm saying is it would be a great opportunity, and we'd love to have you come aboard. So think about it, okay? Okay, bye.
Karen: Look, for the record, a certain Scranton salesman approached me, okay?
Michael: This is perfect.
Dwight: He looks like your twin.
Michael: This is a dummy, a la Ferris Bueller's Day Off. We have tied a string to the wrist, which goes to the door. When somebody opens the door, the hand goes down, hits the remote, turns on the tape recorder, which is me snoring. Now nobody knows whether I am here, or whether I am gone.
Dwight: I will know.
Michael: But, you will not tell anyone.
Dwight: I won't need to because we'll be together playing hooky. Yeah.
Michael: Well, sometimes. Most of the time I will be with Ryan, or Darryl. Yes? Oh good, good Stanley! First victim, this is what I want you to do. Go out, come back in. We're going to hide. I want you to tell me if this looks like me, okay?
Stanley: I don't understand why sleeping at your desk is better than you not being here.
Michael: Just go out, and come back in.
Stanley: I got an offer from Utica for more money, and I'm going to take it.
Michael: Hey everyone, can I have your attention please? I just thought you all should know that Stanley Hudson is planning on leaving us, because our old friend Karen from Utica is going to give him more money to work there.
Michael: No, no, no, no, no-no, no no. You completely misinterpreted my tone, this is a horrible thing. Clearly, Karen is trying to get back at us because Jim dumped her.
Jim: Oh, I don't think that is what's happening.
Michael: Okay, smarty pants, then why? Why is she trying to take Stanley from us?
Stanley: I think it's because of my sales record.
Michael: That could not possibly be it.
Michael: You cannot take the hilarious black guy from the office. Stanley is part of what makes this branch so extraordinary. The bluesy wisdom, the sassy remarks, the crossword puzzles, the smile, those big watery red eyes. I don't know how George Bush did it when Colin Powell left, and if Utica thinks that they are going to poach Stanley, they have another thing coming.
Michael: How can I get you to stay?
Michael: Yeah we all want money. But there is none in the budget, so... Tell me why you're really leaving.
Michael: Mo money mo problems, Stanley. You of all people should know that. Let me ask you this, if I were-
Michael: Pssh, kay.
Pam: Oscar, did you bring it?
Oscar: To be Edwardian. His best work.
Pam: Okay, well I have the tablecloth, don't forget the flatware.
Oscar: Sure thing Pam, can't wait.
Pam: Oscar, Toby, and I are founding members of the Finer Things Club. We meet once a month to discuss books and art, celebrate culture in a very civilized way. Sometimes the debate can get heated, but we're always respectful. There is no paper, no plastic, and no work talk allowed. It's very exclusive.
Oscar: Besides having sex with men, I would say that the Finer Things Club is the gayest thing about me.
Jim: So tell me again why I can't be part of your club?
Pam: Because some people think you monopolize the conversation by trying to be funny.
Pam: Some people.
Michael: Fillipellers, how's it hanging?
Michael: To the left?
Karen: Listen, I-
Michael: To the right?
Michael: Okay, enough small talk, go ahead.
Karen: You called me.
Michael: Yes, listen, um... You cannot tear Stanley from his family like this.
Karen: I'm pretty sure his family's coming with him.
Michael: No, his work family. Look, this is very hard for me, but I'm going to give you my best man. You may have Toby.
Karen: Toby's not a salesperson.
Michael: You can train him. He's very very smart, and funny, and charming... You know, I can't do it, Toby is the worst. That- that was a bluff, um... Listen, if you are going to poach one of my guys, I'm going to poach one of yours.
Karen: Oooh. Good-bye Michael.
Michael: Okay, good-bye. Wait! Wait! Karen, could you transfer me to one of your salespeople please? Your best one?
Pam: I have Ben Nugent on the line, he is the top salesman in Utica.
Michael: Hi Ben, Michael Scott.
Ben: Hi Michael.
Michael: I'm going to cut right to the chase here. Do you like magic? Because I'm a genie in a bottle, and I'm going to grant you three wishes. To move to Scranton, to have a great job, and to be my best friend.
Ben: Aren't you the guy that hit the woman with your car?
Michael: Get out. Uh, yeah. I also saved her life, but I guess that's not as grabby.
Ben: Everyone says Scranton branch is worse than Camden. Didn't everyone from Stanford quit, like immediately?
Michael: No, I fired them, and your next. ... So what do you say?
Michael: What is that guy talking about? Scranton is not lame. Scranton is the cool, fun branch. We're like Animal House.
Dwight: Found him!
Michael: Jim, we're getting crapped on. Word is that our branch sucks, and we have to do something about it.
Jim: So what are you going to do?
Michael: What are we going to do? We are going to make a monster sale, that's what we're going to do. Corcroan dropped Staples.
Jim: Did they?
Michael: Yes they did, oh yes they did, and we are going to murder it. You, me, Dwight are going to jump into my PT Cruiser, and we're going to crush this sale. We're going to prove, what the hell is that music?
Pam: It's Vivaldi, for Finer Things.
Michael: That's the problem, that's the problem. We need rock n' roll Pam, rock n' roll. Alright? Oh... My... God, that's why people are leaving. I- I have no words.
Jim: We just passed the exit for Corcroan.
Michael: What? What? We did?
Dwight and Michael: Surprise! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.
Michael: Look at his face! Look at his face!
Jim: What are we doing?
Dwight: Egg dripping, blah, blah, blah.
Michael: What are we doing, Dwight, what we are doing?
Dwight: Well, gee, Jim, I don't know, I guess there's no sales call today.
Michael: We are going on a panty raid to Utica, is what we're doing.
Jim: We're going to Utica?
Jim: I'm not going to Utica right now.
Michael: Yes you are. Oh, buckle up Jim.
Michael: We are going to make Karen wish that she had never been dumped by you.
Michael and Dwight: Utica! Utica! Utica!
Michael and Dwight: Utica! Utica!
Michael: In your face
Jim: I can't believe you guys. I'm not going to go further piss off my ex-girlfriend.
Michael: Are you calling Karen?
Jim: No, I'm not calling Karen.
Dwight: He's lying.
Michael: Yep, get it.
Jim: What are you doing? Stop it, Dwight!
Jim: Are you kidding me?
Dwight: No communication with the outside world Jim.
Michael: It had to be done, it had to be done.
Jim: Well, that kind of sucks, because it had all the photos of my brother's new baby on it, so...
Dwight: Oh no, that is too bad. Shoot.
Michael: Hey Dwight, he found it.
Jim: You know what? I'm just going to call a cab from here.
Michael: Alright, you're going to miss the best prank ever.
Jim: Alright. Wait, what are you planning on doing?
Michael: Do you really wanna know?
Jim: Oh, God.
Michael: Follow me, come here. Here's what we brought, we brought uniforms from the warehouse. I brought silly string, Dwight brought gasoline and chunks of rubber to make stink bombs.
Dwight: Or real bombs.
Michael: No, no, not real bombs.
Dwight: Yeah, come on, it will be so badass.
Michael: Uh, maybe, maybe, I don't know.
Michael: It could be badass. Yeah, it will.
Jim: No, no absolutely we are not doing this.
Dwight: Come on, I already filled the bottles with the gas, it's going to be so badass.
Jim: Are you kidding me? We've been driving around with this stuff in the trunk the whole time?
Michael: Teach her to offer Stanley more money.
Jim: So the deal was, Dwight doesn't blow anything up, and I wear a costume. And a moustache.
Michael: So, why did you and Karen break up? Was it the sex?
Michael: I can't imagine the sex being bad, I mean her body is...
Jim: Okay, you know what?
Jim: Why don't we play that alphabet game that you were talking about?
Michael: Okay, I will start. Um, "A." "A" my name is Alan, and my wife's name is Alice, we live in Alaska, and we sell... Damn it! What do we sell? Um...
Jim: It doesn't matter.
Michael: I'm trying to think of what we could sell.
Jim: Doesn't matter.
Michael: Ah, la, la, la. What is that? That sound... The air-conditioning leaking or something?
Jim: That doesn't make sense, couldn't be.
Michael: What is that? Dwight, are you peeing?
Dwight: I'm peeing in this empty can.
Jim: Oh my God!
Michael: Come on man, that is disgusting Dwight!
Dwight: Well you said that we couldn't make anymore stops, and I really had to go.
Jim: Michael, watch the road!
Dwight: Hey, you're making me spray!
Michael: I'll kill you man!
Jim: Michael! Michael, pull over!
Michael: That is just so disgusting!
Jim: Pull over, pull over!
Dwight: I think I cut my penis on the lid!
Oscar: Can you imagine a life where all you have to do is summer in the Italian countryside?
Toby: I know right? I just want to go, and look at art, and swim in the Adriatic.
Pam: And spend time with George Emerson. That's what I would do. I mean it's the best male protagonist we've read, right?
Andy: Totally, I mean, come on, such a free spirit.
Oscar: What are you doing?
Andy: Just came to discuss my favorite E.M. Forester novel. Pam, these finger sandwiches look finger-lickin' delicious Pam.
Pam: Uh, I'm sorry Andy, but this is a closed club.
Andy: The Finer Things Club is the most exclusive club in this office. Naturally, it's where I need to be. The party planning committee is my back up, and Kevin's band is my safety.
Andy: Fine. I'll just sit here, in the common area, and read my book. Which just happens to be the very same book you're reading.
Toby: Alright, just know that you're not in the Finer Things Club.
Andy: Why can't I be in the club?
Jim: I can't believe we're here, I can't believe this is happening.
Dwight: Believe it.
Michael: Afro wig, do you want the afro wig?
Jim: No, Michael. I'm not leaving the car.
Michael: Yeah, Dwight, here's how it's going to go down. You and I-
Jim: Guy's going by. Shh.
Michael: You and I are going to sneak inside and pretend that we are warehouse workers. And then we will silly string the beejeezus out of the place.
Dwight: And if we have to defend ourselves, I will stab the security guy in the eye with the jumbo chalk.
Jim: No, no, you won't do that. Nope.
Dwight: Then I'll grind up the jumbo chalk and blow it in his eyes.
Jim: Dwight, nothing with the eyes, please?
Dwight: Okay, Jim.
Jim: Oh my God, that's her! That's her, go, go, go.
Dwight: Let's move! Move, move, move, move!
Jim: Shut up, you, shut up! This is the dumbest thing we've ever done.
Pam: I think it's interesting how Forster uses Italy to represent sexuality and passion. And that also brought up themes of, uh, you know, fate and coincidence. And Lucy's torn between these two things. She's torn between passion and convention.
Kevin: Damn it!
Pam: It just- To be making a case for passion in Edwardian times, I thought was, uh...
Kevin: Damn it!
Pam: Maybe sort of ahead of his time as a writer.
Oscar: Very brave.
Pam: Very brave choice also, I thought.
Oscar: And George, his- his youthfulness. His, um, freedom. Evokes, um, um, feeling, um, to the, um... What are you microwaving!?
Pam: Why don't you use the microwave in the kitchen, Phyllis?
Phyllis: Someone needs to clean it. It smells like popcorn.
Andy: So, Stanley, are you really outta here?
Stanley: Yep, looks that way.
Andy: I'm gonna miss you man, you've been like an uncle to me. Like a kind old uncle Remus. I wanna stay in touch.
Michael: We are in a stairwell.
Dwight: We are climbing some stairs.
Dwight: I'm breathing heavily.
Jim: Okay, you know what? You don't need to be updating me as much as you're updating me.
Michael: There's a guy, there's a guy.
Dwight: There's a security guard coming by. Hello, we're warehouse workers. Would you like more proof?
Michael: Oh my God, oh my God, that was very close.
Dwight: I can see the security guard's eyes.
Jim: No, no, don't do anything to them.
Dwight: I have to do something to his eyes.
Dwight: The eyes are the groin of the head.
Jim: Alright, Great Scott, if you found that choking hazard poster, just head on home.
Michael: We found something far better, their crown jewel. Their industrial copier.
Jim: Isn't that thing huge?
Michael: It's enormous, but it's got wheels. We're wheeling it down the hall, into the stairwell. Get the car ready, keep the engine running.
Jim: No, that is a terrible idea, don't do this.
Dwight: My hip bone!
Michael: We're wedged between the copier and the railing. Ah! Ow! Ow, my leg! Jim leave us.
Dwight: Don't leave us!
Michael: Save yourself!
Dwight: Don't leave us, help us, we need help Jim!
Jim: Okay! First of all, stop using my name. And second of all-
Michael: Dwight, you gotta move!
Jim: Damn it guys!
Michael: Dwight, could you move over a little bit.
Dwight: I'm losing control of my bladder.
Jim: Oh my God, oh my God, Karen is back!
Dwight: Did you say Karen?
Michael: Take her to a motel, make love to her Jim.
Jim: No, I'm not doing that.
Michael: Just say you wanna get back together.
Jim: No, I'm not doing that!
Michael: It doesn't have to mean anything. Just, do it for Stanley. Come on Jim, just climb on top of her and think about Stanley. Ah, Jim, if this is it for me, promise me something, host the Dundies.
Jim: Hey Karen.
Karen: Uh, what are you doing here?
Jim: First of all, hi.
Karen: What are you doing here?
Jim: You good? I'm just checking on the other branches. Michael wants me to do that from time to time, so...
Dwight: Do not tell Karen about the industrial copier.
Jim: Copy that.
Karen: I cried for weeks over that guy, so yeah, seeing him climb out of a PT Cruiser in a ladies warehouse uniform, felt pretty good.
Karen: Let me ask you, did you accomplish what you wanted?
Dwight: Listen lady, you can expect these kind of repercussions as long as you keep trying to poach our people.
Karen: I'm taking Stanley.
Dwight: Then we will burn Utica to the ground.
Michael: Dwight. Granted, maybe this was not the best idea, but at least we care enough about our employees that we are willing to fight for them. And if you so much as harm a hair on Stanley's head, we will burn Utica to the ground.
Karen: Jim, hang on a second?
Karen: So you're still doing this kind of stuff, huh?
Jim: Yeah, trying to quit though.
Karen: If you wanted to see me, you could have just called me like an adult.
Jim: Oh no, I didn't want to see you. Not that I'm not happy seeing you, right now, I'm just saying ultimately I was here for the copier. Equal, I'd say it was equal. So, good to see you...
Jim: I mean, it's just that- You know, Pam and I are still dating, so, and, I just mean that things are going really well, so I didn't want to see... you...
Karen: Oh, things are going really well? Are they? They are? That's great, that's so great. I wanna hear more about how happy you are with Pam. Can you tell me more about that? Thank you so much for coming to Utica, and breaking my copier, and telling me how well things are going in your relationship, really, thank you.
Jim: Alright, you are welcome. I'm going to go because of, um, traffic.
Karen: Traffic, yeah. Oh, def- go, go because of traffic, definitely, beat-beat the traffic, mm-hmm.
Jim: I... will...
Michael: We tried and we failed. Stanley, you may go. Here is a box, for your things, but I doubt that that box will be able to contain all the memories that you have of this place. Fly away sweet little bird, fly away and be free. Pam, I'm gonna need some help writing a want ad.
Michael: Um, wanted: middle aged black man with sass. Big butt, bigger heart. I can't do this.
Stanley: Michael? A word?
Michael: Of course.
Stanley: I changed my mind, I wanna keep this job.
Stanley: I wasn't really planning on leaving, all I wanted was a raise. How on Earth did Michael call my bluff? Is he some sort of secret genius? Sometimes I say crazy things.
Pam: I'm so sorry, Rolando told me everything. How humiliating. Would it help you to return to another age? A time of refinement, and civility.
Jim: Are you inviting me to the Finer Things Club?
Andy: Oh-oh, come on!
Jim: Angela's Ashes, top o' the morning to us. Frankie's prose is funnier than a pot of gold, say I.
Oscar: Okay, did you get it out of your system.
Jim: Yep. No, I mean I really liked it. I thought was uh, a fun read.
Toby: What was fun about it for you? Was it the death of the twins?
Jim: No, that wasn't fun.
Toby: Did you even read it?
Jim: Of course I read it.
Oscar: How does it end?
Toby: Who was the main character?
Jim: Angela. Nope. The ashes.
Andy: And let me just add, that as a member of The Finer Things Club, I would bring a strong financial contribution to any discretionary funds that we may have. Finally, here is a recommendation from former U.S. Senator Rick Santorum.
Oscar: Okay, that's enough, uh. Thanks, Andy.
Toby: He's gonna ruin everything.
Pam: Oh, my God. His letter of recommendation from Rick Santorum is three fifty-dollar bills.
Oscar: Wow. Now we can afford hard-cover books.
Toby: I like it just us three. I don't want it to change.
Toby: I love The Finer Things Club. My ex-wife used to have a book club, and I would read their book and sometimes listen from the kitchen.
Angela: The Finer Things Club was not sanctioned by the Party Planning Committee. Renegade clubs are dangerous. I squashed the Weight Loss Buddy Support Group. They didn't need to gather. It was just gross.
Meredith: I don't know why I'm not in The Finer Arts Club. It's bullcrap. You clean it up.
Andy: Dear Andrew Bernard, after carefully examining your application to The Finer Things Club, we are unable to offer you a position at this place and time. We would, however, like to place you on a list in case an opportunity arises when your inclusion can be tolerated. Your position as an ongoing financial patron, however, is yours to cherish. Sincerely, The Finer Things Club. Yeees! I got waitlisted.
Andy: I got into Cornell off the Wait List. A lot of people were like, "Oh, you just got into Cornell because your dad donated a building." No. Okay. I got into Cornell because I'm smart. I'm smart enough to have a dad who donates buildings to things.
Michael: Utica is snoozeville, um, Albany are the prepsters, Nashua, no parking, um, Akron is haunted, Camden... is in a basement, Yonkers has the two hot girls, and here in Scranton, we are the cool guys.
Michael: Woo! Shotgun!
Jim: Well, you're driving, right?
Michael: Yes, I am, but I want shotgun for you.
Jim: Mmm... I'd prefer to sit in back.
Dwight: Wait! I wanted to sit next to you.
Michael: No, Dwight! Dwight, Jim is sitting next to me. You're gonna sit in the back left where I don't have to see your ugly moongob.
Dwight: Okay, that is so mean! You know what, I'm not going.
Michael: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Dwight, you're handsome. You're a very handsome man, get in the car.
Pam: So, there was no sales call.
Jim: Nnnno. Uh, turns out, it was just a really bad idea involving fire. But I think I fixed it.
Pam: Wait, you're going along with this now?
Jim: I have to. Pam, if I'm not there, someone's going to go to jail. Or die.
Pam: Right. And, you wouldn't be able to talk to Karen.
Jim: Well, I promise you that has nothing to do with it.
Pam: A little bit.
Jim: Well, yeah I don't want to see her get physically harmed, that's for sure.
Pam: Because you love her? Because you love her very much?
Jim: All right, I'm gonna go now.
Pam: Okay. Have fun with your girlfriend!
Jim: Okay, I will.
Pam: I'm kidding around. We joke about that stuff all the time. I'm not really the jealous type, so, I don't care if Jim sees Karen. I care a little.
Security guard: They sprayed me in the eye.
Dwight: Scranton rules!
Michael: Dwight! Stop it! Can you help me please, I'm being crushed.
Michael: Would it have killed you to spend the afternoon making love to her in a motel room? Like I begged you to? Pam would have understood. Heck, Pam would have done it.
Dwight: Pam is down for anything.
Jim: You embarrassed me.
Michael: You embarrassed us.
Dwight: Yeah. We shoulda brought Andy. I cut a chunk out of my penis for nothing.