-I'm sorry, Mr. Decker,
I think -- I think I'm lo--
I think I'm losing you. Hello? Hello? Yeah. Hold on one sec--
I don't know. Hold on one second. Do you really have to do that
right now? -Yes. I do. I should've done this
weeks ago, actually. -Mr. Decker.
I'm sorry about that. What were you-- Can you hold on
one second? Yeah, just one second. [ Shredder powers down ] Hello? That's it. Perfect. So, what I was saying -- Hello? -Thanks, Dwight. -Whoa! And he just goes, "Boom!"
Goal! -That's Pele.
-You know your soccer, man. -I prefer Maradona. Uh...Diego Maradona. -Oh yeah?
-From Argentina. -I didn't know we had so many
soccer fans in the office. -I mean, to be fair,
I was the first one to talk about it, but... -What about you, Jim?
You a fan of the game? -Oh, no. Nope.
Not really. -It's not for everybody,
I suppose. -[ Laughs] -It's 'cause I'm
more of a player. -Yeah?
-You bet. -Really, Jim? I had no idea
you played soccer, 'cause you never,
ever talk about it. -Well, I do.
-Wow.
-I play. -You can be
so modest sometimes. -Well, maybe you should
get back to work. -Maybe you and Charles should
kick the soccer ball around. -Maybe we will someday. -Maybe you will tonight
after work. What do you say? -That's a great idea, Dwight. -Great ideas are just part
of what I bring to the table. I don't try and be
anything that I'm not. -What do you say, Jim? Huh?
Want to play some soccer? -Jim, what do you say?
-I'm in it to win. -Game on!
-Okay. See you on the field,
there, bro. -See you. -I can't wait! -Get him, Jim!
Come on, tough D, Jim. -Oh, my God!
Oh, wow. -Jim, what the...? -Phyllis, are you okay?
Are you okay? -No. I swallowed a crown. -Why'd you duck, Jim?
-What? -Yeah, Jim. Why would an
experienced soccer player like yourself duck
at the very last moment? -Okay, I'm just gonna go
get some ice. -Does that make you
feel better? Huh? -I'm sorry, Phyllis. -Oh, yeah. Jim's sorry. -Hey, Jimmy, what's up? -Not much.
-Cool. Very cool. I bet if you tried,
you could grow the best beard of anyone in this office.
-[ Laughs ] Thanks, Dwight. -That laugh
is so infectious. -You're creeping me out.
I'm gonna go. -I didn't mean any of those
things I just said -- and you can expect the same
from everyone in this office if you don't nip this whole
Employee of the Month situation in the bud. Make it about the work. -Let me guess, you think
you should get it. -This encompasses
all available data -- hours, tardiness, unconfirmed
sick days, participation. Everyone has been assigned
a random number for total fairness
and transparency. -I'm gonna run this
by Toby and Accounting, and have them
assemble the data. -That's okay.
I'll do it. -And the winner is... employee number nine. And that is? -Number nine. Number nine... Jim Halpert.
-What? -Huh?
-What? -Are you kidding me?
-Oh, no! -Okay, wait, I was not...
I did not... -I...I...I did not...
That was not...How come not? -Guys, listen.
This was anonymous, alright? There is no way I could've
given it to myself, because I didn't even know
who was on here. I just gave it to the employee
with the highest overall score. -To my tally, you just won back
your own parking spot, a vacation day, and a nice tidy
quarter of $1,000 from all of us. [ Indistinct shouting ] -[Whispering] Hey.
-It's a miracle. She loves him. -I don't know about "love." -She loves me. -Outside, my car,
two minutes. -Well, something's come up.
I have to go. -No, no, no, no, no.
She'll wake up. -I have something to do.
-I know what you have to do. Please stay with Cece. -I will require beer and pizza
to think this over. -Absolutely.
-From Jim. -I don't think that's gonna --
-Do it. -What kind of pizza
would you like? -Surprise me. No. Pepperoni. -Insert it in my mouth. -That's not gonna make
your pizza-eating experience any better. Trust me.
-Oh, try me. -Jim, just don't
think of it as degrading. Think of it as
you happen to be moving the pizza 6 inches his way,
and he happens to be biting it. -I'd prefer for him to
think of it as degrading. Crust first. Okay. Now, the beer. Beer me, Jim. -Gentle. -That's perfect. -If we can get him
to drive to Connecticut, and put peroxide in his hair...
-What the hell is this? What are you, trying to cop a
feel or something, Halpert? -Dude, no.
-Hey! Hey! -Listen. Whoa.
-Come on. -God, I don't even -- I don't
even know how to explain this. Um, uh, Dwight, asked me to
be in an alliance. And then, um...um...we were... we've just been
messing with him, uh, because of
the whole alliance thing. -It's just office pranks.
-It's stupid. It's just office pranks.
-An alliance? What the hell is he
talking about? -I have absolutely
no idea. -Come on. -Do I feel bad
about betraying Jim? Not at all. That's the game -- convince him we're in
an alliance, get some information,
throw him to the wolves. That's politics, baby -- get what you can out of someone,
then crush them. I think Jim might have learned
a very valuable lesson. -Hey, Dwight. [ Everybody "oh"s, laughs ] -Damn it, Jim, you cannot
throw snowballs in here! -Well, it's not a snowball, 'cause it's only a dusting,
right? -You apologize to me
right now. -You've have something
on your nose. -You apologize right now. -No.
-Very well. Then, I challenge you
to a snowball fight on the first real snow
of winter. -You got it. [ Phone dialing ] [ Phone ringing ] <i> -You've reached the voicemail
of Dwight Kurt Schrute.
Please leave --</i> [ Phone beeps ] -[ Shouts ] [ Continues shouting ] -Stop! Stop! -[ Grunts ] I have no feeling
in my fingers or penis, but I think
it was worth it. [ Yells ] -Um, I was laying on the ground,
defenseless, and, uh, he just kept throwing
them until he exhausted himself. And, uh... [ Cellphone chimes ] "How about icing it?
lol. Dwight." -What's going on?
-Nothing. Nothing is going on. Oh, the wires need insulation. It's a wire people. I'm not buying it
a fur coat. "Statistical correlations
exist between EMF radiation and various health hazards, But mainstream studies
are inconclusive." -You better fix this.
I already ditched my uterus, and I ain't losing
any more good parts. -You people don't realize
what you're asking. I'd have to rip open
the walls. We'd have to shut this place
down for a week. -Week off.
That'd be great. -Ah. There's my popcorn.
Can you just grab that for me? -Keep your snacks
on your side, Jim. Idiot. What the...?
-What? Some of these kernels
have crowned. -That's impossible,
'cause that's a brand-new bag... Oh, my God. -Andy! -Ladies and gentlemen,
I have heard your complaints, and we reached
a settlement. -So, we will be leaving
the office for one whole week. -Nice job. -In my contract,
it is stipulated that I provide
a temporary work space. It will arrive
in one hour. -What? -What's this? -Bring it in. Roll into the future
with Work Bus. If you've got a parking lot, a work space is just
a phone call away. In this age of belt-tightening
and less-empowered workers, a work bus is how tomorrow
gets things done. -I need to get to
the paper, please. -Oh, God!
Oh! Oh, my God! -I'll get you a napkin.
Can someone get napkins, please? -You know what?
It's fine. It's fine. Let me just...
It's fine. -Pam, I'm really sorry. I'm really sorry about...
all that. Really? Smirking? -What can I say?
I love justice. You forced me to spend money
on needless repairs, and, uh, now, you're locked
in a prison bus, and your woman
drips with beverage. -Alright. I'm gonna speak in a language
you both understand -- mo-nay. -What was it?
-What is it? -It's money. You both have sizable Christmas
bonuses coming your way. If I catch either of you
messing with the other, I will give both bonuses
to the other person. -Can't do that.
-No. Absolutely not. -You need consequences, okay? I want you both
walking on eggshells. -Uh, yeah. I just got
my replacement credit card. You want the number?
Oh, it's, uh, 479300323313. The security code is 927. Okay, great.
Thank you very much. Bye. -So, Dwight did
take the bait. He used my
credit-card numbers to send a $200
bouquet of flowers... to my wife... from me. -[ Laughs ]
