One thing you should know about dear old Roz… She’s the eyes, ears, nose, and throat of Mr. Hart. Anything she hears, he hears.
I wouldn’t exactly say that, I’d just say that if you want to gossip in the ladies’ room, I’d check under the stalls, first, for her shoes.
In the trunk! Look, all we have to do is get some cement blocks, chain them to his feet and pitch him off the end of the pier, and no one will ever know.
Okay, I’m gonna leave, but let me tell you one thing before I go: don’t you ever refer to me as “your girl” again.
I’ll tell you what I’m talking about: I’m no girl; I’m a woman, do you hear me? I’m not your wife – thank God – or your mother…
I am your *employee* and, as such, I expect to be treated equally, with a little dignity and a little respect!
Doralee, just come off it, for God’s sake. The whole office knows you two are having an affair.
I have to go shopping. We’re running out of everything: cat food, fish food, ant spray, rat poison.
Judy, a vacation is only two weeks. We’ve got to keep her away longer then that.
You know, that idea’s not half-bad. We could write it up that it’s… top secret. Consolidated is looking to open overseas offices in Europe and they need executives who can… speak French or something. We could enroll Roz at one of those schools in Paris and send her there for a six-week learning course to take.
Hey, I just got some bad news. It’s a telex from the head office in New York. They received our request, but due to a new computer system download and overhaul at their office… they won’t be able to send us the invoices from Ajax Warehouse for another month – four to six weeks.
Yeah, Roz. Not that it doesn’t add up; she’s even less popular than he is… So what are we going to do about her?
Oh, now I get it. I lose a promotion because of some idiotic, biased survey. The Boys in the Club are all threatened and intimidated by any woman who doesn’t ride at the back of the proverbial bus.
How could you understand, when you’ve never been passed over for being the wrong gender?
But Norman, she has never worked a day in her life before.
I am sympathetic, Norman, but please, why do I have to train her? Let her go work in somebody else’s section.
So, and I’m a widow with 4 kids; Jerry should have never died, I could – I’d have been better off, I could have divorced him. Is that her?
We’re gonna need a special locker for the hat.
I don’t think I could ever shoot a gun, I don’t care… I can’t understand guys like Hart, who go out and shoot things, like Bambi and Thumper… and that cute little skunk?
