jesus, connie, don't you have some faxes to get to? the receptionist hurries away, making a face as she does.
laziest skirt i ever hired. but nice fun bags, i'll give her that.
jim, right?
listen, jim, i don't want to get started off on the wrong foot here, but we.have numbers to make and if we don't make those numbers, it's my ass on the line. and if my ass gets chewed out by regional, i can guarantee.that your ass is gonna be purina doggy chow. now i'm not sure how they ran things.  wesley stares at that mouth zeroing in further and-- further, until the words become gibberish, just like they did with janice. wesley catches himself and snaps out of it, just in time to hear.
so do we understand each other?
good boy. with that, he hurries away, his pants riding so high up his ass that they look like they may burst at any second. wesley stares up at the clock on his monitor: it reads 11:15. he stands up, stretches, and makes his way to the receptionist's desk. she looks up, bites her lower lip.