Wanted

Janice: Jesus H. Fuckin' Popsicle! I still don't have my billing reports, but you've got time to sit there and Google your ass off? Well, I know one thing: you've got your review coming up next week, and I can't wait to start checking me off some big *fucking* *boxes*!

[clicks her stapler for emphasis. Wesley cringes at every click]

Janice: Attitude: *poor*. Performance: *poor*. Management skills: *poor*. Works well with others? Ha! That's a fucking joke.

[looks at Wesley's computer]

Janice: What is this bullshit; who's this prick? Some loser gets his head blown off in the Metropolitan...

Wesley: SHUT THE FUCK UP!

[the office grows quiet]

Wesley: [to co-workers] She has ONE, SINGLE iota of tenuous power! She thinks she can push everyone around?

[grabs Janice's stapler]

Wesley: You don't need this.

[throws the stapler against the wall of his cubicle, smashing it]

Wesley: I understand. Junior High must've been kind of tough, but it doesn't give you the right to treat your workers like horseshit, Janice. I know we laugh at you, Janice. We all know you keep a stash of jelly donuts in the top drawer of your desk.

[crouches down]

Wesley: But I want you to know, if you weren't such a bitch, we'd feel sorry for you. I do feel sorry for you. But as it stands, the way you behave - I feel I can speak for the entire office when I tell you... go fuck yourself.