Wanted

(SINGING)

Happy birthday,

dear Janice

Happy birthday to you!

It's my

anorexic boss' birthday.

This means there's

a certain amount

of inter-office pressure

to stand around

the conference table

eating crappy food

and pretending

to worship her.

That's so good.

Acting for five minutes

like Janice doesn't make

all our lives miserable

is the hardest work

I'll do all day.

My job title

is account manager.

I used to be called

an account service

representative,

but a consultant told us

we needed to manage

our clients

and not service them.

I have a girlfriend whom

I neither manage nor service.

That's my best friend, Barry,

fucking her on an IKEA

kitchen table

I picked up

for a really good price.

I'm finding it

hard to care about

anything these days.

In fact, the only thing I do

care about is the fact that

I can't care about anything.

Seriously. It worries me.

My name is Wesley Gibson.

My dad walked out on my mom

when I was seven days old.

Sometimes I wonder if he ever

looked into my baby blues eyes

and asked himself,

"Did I just father

the most insignificant asshole

of the 21st century?"

Well, if you could get me

the consignment to me

by the 28th... Yeah.

Do you have the numbers

in front of you?

Relax.

If your name had come up,

you'd be dead already.

We've had some

unexpected losses recently.

We'd like to know

where our competitor

is getting his munition.

It's clean.

Meaning?

Meaning it's untraceable.

Your competitor's very smart.

Get down!

Fuck it.

No one leaves

the Fraternity, Cross.

I have a new perspective

on the Fraternity.

Careful.

You don't destroy something

that's been around

for a thousand years.

It's already destroyed.

He broke the code.

I have to stop this.

Really?

You know this.

So why don't you

face me yourself?

Never send sheep

to kill a wolf.

They were just

the decoys.

Goodbye, Mr. X.

Never send sheep

to kill a wolf.

They were just

the decoys.

Wesley!

What is it?

What do you mean,

"What is it"? Listen.

Well, how am I

suppose to sleep with

all that fucking racket?

When are we gonna move

so we don't have to

wake up to that shit?

I kind of like it.

It helps to drown out

the sound of your annoying,

fucking voice.

Now, please, let me sleep.

Have you even thought

about our talk?

Yes.

Which one?

Perfect. That's perfect.

Feed Annabelle.

Sorry.

Oh, my fucking God.

I hope that's not

my billing report

sitting on your desk.

Holy shit on an altar, it is.

I want that report

on my desk in one hour.

Okay, everybody,

we're all gonna stay

an extra hour...

Want to hear

something sad?

I need an ergonomic keyboard

to keep my repetitive stress

injury in check.

Just the fact that I repeat

something enough

that it causes me

stress is fucking sad.

Nice job, dude.

You seen Barry?

He had to go

to the dentist.

Again.

Yes!

Barry!

You think they have that

morning-after pill here?

That thing works.

Crush it up,

put it in her omelet,

"Hey, baby, breakfast

in bed." You can never

be too safe.

Oh, God.

I lost my wallet

somewhere.

All this together?

No, no.

Yes.

He is the man.

How much is it?

Oh. Plus this.

$20.42.

Watermelon.

Chicks dig it.

Thanks.

See you next time.

Have a good night.

I love these

energy drinks, man.

I'm almost, like, kind of on

an energy drink cleanse,

where I do one for breakfast

and then, like, two

or three for lunch.

I'm the man?

Yeah, right,

Barry, I'm the man.

In fact, I'm so much the man,

I have a standing prescription

for medication to control

my anxiety attacks.

God, I wish I had

something else

to relieve my stress.

Hello, Wesley.

You know,

there are people,

beautiful people,

you just wish they could see

you in a different setting,

a different place,

instead of where you are,