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Mr. Pitman.....Darrell Hammond Steve Bellows.....Brad Garrett Delivery Boy.....Jimmy Fallon Mr. Pitman: Well, Mr. Bellows, your resume is flawless, and your 20 years' sales experience speaks for itself. I think you're the man for the job. Steve Bellows: [ smiling ] Well, this is great! When do I start? Mr. Pitman: I'll arrange to have your office set up over the weekend, so we'll see you first thing Monday morning. Steve Bellows: Great! Thank you, sir! [ shakes Pitman's hand ] [ as Bellows gets up to leave, he loosens his tie ] Mr. Pitman: What are you doing? Steve Bellows: Loosening my tie. Mr. Pitman: For what reason? Steve Bellows: Because I'm finally able to relax. I was so nervous before this interview, and now I'm feeling a little relief. Mr. Pitman: So you loosened your tie? Right here in my office? Steve Bellows: Well.. I got the job, didn't I? Mr. Pitman: I'm not sure. I'm starting to have second thoughts, Mr. Bellows. I'm not sure you're the right man for the job. Steve Bellows: [ surprised ] What? Mr. Pitman: You're weak. Steve Bellows: I'm weak? Mr. Pitman: What kind of salesman are you going to be, who loosens his tie at the end of a meeting. That's a sign of weakness. Steve Bellows: It was a sign of relief, accomplishment! Mr. Pitman: You'll probably be one of those employees that keeps his eye on the clock all day and leaves exactly at five o'clock. Steve Bellows: Doesn't the building close at five o'clock? Mr. Pitman: So that means your work has to suffer for it? Why are you afraid to put in a little overtime? Steve Bellows: Correct me if I'm wrong, but this is a salary position, not hourly wage, right? Mr. Pitman: So you're only willing to put in extra time at work if it's at the company's expense? Steve Bellows: I din't say that, I.. Mr. Pitman: You're a weak man, Mr. Bellows. Am I glad I found this out now, before the CEO had a chance to find out. He'd hand me my head on a platter if he found out I hired a weak-minded man like you. Steve Bellows: I'm not weak, I'm just relaxed. Don't you ever kick off your shoes at the end of the day? Mr. Pitman: Mr. Bellows, I keep my shoes on at all times, even in the shower and in bed. But we're not discussing me, we're discussing you. Steve Bellows: [ struggles to pull his tie back into place ] Here, I'll fix my tie back to the way it was. Is that better? Mr. Pitman: It's too late, Mr. Bellows. You've already exposed your weakness, you can't turn back the clock now. Steve Bellows: But I'm not weak! I can lift 100 pounds over my head and break a board with my bare hands! Mr. Pitman: Oh, your body may be strong like an ox, but your spirit is weak like a little girl! Steve Bellows: [ frowning ] But you said my resume was flawless. Mr. Pitman: It is. You're not. Now, get out! Steve Bellows: [ starts to leave, slowly turns around ] Is this is a test? You know, to see how aggressive I am, whether or not I'm going to fight for the sale? Mr. Pitman: This company has no room for weaklings, Mr. Bellows! Not now, not ever! Now, get out! [ Bellows exits the office ] Intercom: Mr. Bellows, your lunch has arrived. Mr. Pitman: Good. Send the kid in with it. Delivery Boy: [ enters office ] Here's your lunch, Mr. Bellows. Where should I set it up? Mr. Pitman: Right there on the desk is good, kid. How much I owe you? Delivery Boy: [ places boxes on the desk ] Uh, that comes to exactly $7.25. Mr. Pitman: Fine. Allow me a moment to withdraw the money from my personal safe inside my wall. Just make yourself comfortable while I get it. Delivery Boy: Sure thing. [ sits down in chair and props his feet on top of Mr. Pitman's desk ] Mr. Pitman: [ withdraws the money from his safe, turns around to notice Delivery Boy's feet on his desk ] What the hell do you think you're doing? Delivery Boy: [ confusing ] Excuse me? Mr. Pitman: With your feet on my desk? Delivery Boy: Didn't you say to make myself comfortable? Mr. Pitman: I didn't say put to your crummy feet all over my desk, you slob! You're weak! Get out of here! Delivery Boy: [ stands ] The $7.25.. Mr. Pitman: Forget your $7.25, I want you out of my office, you bum! Delivery Boy: But, the money.. [ exits office quickly ] Mr. Pitman: [ sits down behind his desk and digs into his food, pauses to reflect ] What do you want to bet this stuff's been cooked by people sitting on their asses? [ fade ] Rate or review this sketch. |
