Review

Life... it's literally all we have.

But is it any good?

I'm a reviewer, but I don't review

food, books, or movies.

I review life itself.

Viva the revolution!

- - Agh!

Welcome to Review. I'm Forrest MacNeil.

With me as always is A.J. Gibbs.

- Hi, A.J. - Hi, Forrest.

Okay, what's my next review?

- Okay. -

This comes from Clark at Topco Industries.

I've worked at my job for nine years, but I hate my new boss.

I just want to quit in his big, fat, stupid face.

What would that feel like?

Also, blur this if you use my question.

Aha. Clark, you'd like to know

what it feels like to quit a job in a blaze of glory,

and that is just what I will do. Here I go.

I began my experience by writing the most epic

take-this-job-and-shove-it speech I could imagine.

This is so hard.

What do you say to a boss that you hate, you know?

You're the biggest jag-off I've ever worked for,

you nickel-and-dime chicken ,

and I hope this place burns to the ground with you in it.

That's great.

I was now ready to deliver

my bitter farewell.

You realize that if you quit your job at Review,

that means you'll no longer be able to issue

a review for quitting your job.

Right. Grant was right.

With a bit of help from our H.R. department,

I went to a local business and took a customer-service job

- in order to quit it. - All right.

Hey, Forrest.

Just a little gift to say welcome aboard.

How's your first day going?

You know, Ron, when I started here,

I believed in what we were doing.

But now I'm not so sure.

But there is one thing I know.

You're the biggest jag-off I've ever worked for,

and I hope this place burns to the ground with you in it

because that's exactly what you deserve,

you nickel-and-dime chicken mother !

You call yourself a manager?

You couldn't manage a ham sandwich!

I am walking out that door...

And I won't come back,

not even if you beg me.

Who's with me?

Well, I had a job, and I quit it with a fantastic speech,

but something wasn't taking hold for this review.

It wasn't my real job.

At no point did I even understand

what work was expected of me.

So I took the next job I found...

serving coffee in the lobby of an office building,

the kind of job anyone could master and despise in no time.

Morning.

My boss was an incredibly old man named Willy,

with a struggling business and a long list of infirmities.

I wasn't really looking to hire someone.

Not even sure I could afford to, honestly.

I just can't take standing all day.

And my co-worker was Wendell, who was dedicated,

meticulously organized, and, incidentally, autistic.

He likes to make sure the spoons are all facing the same way.

Oh, yeah, he's good on inventory.

- Yeah. - There's 47 napkins, 58 cups.

There were 59, but Pam from the third floor had decaf.

Working alongside Willy and Wendell began to make me

feel like I was part of a family again.

They inspired me to make this business

as successful as it could be.

You know, Willy, there's no reason this couldn't be

a lot more profitable.

What do you mean?

One, two, three.

Open your eyes!

Welcome to Lobby Java.

I had taken the liberty of bringing Willy's coffee cart

into the modern age,

complete with fair-trade, organic coffee

and gourmet pastries,

as well as the exorbitant price markups

that go along with them.

- Wendell, you seem overwhelmed. - It's fine.

But there's something I need you to focus on right now.

I need to know how many pastries are in this case.

- Can you do that for me? - Sure.

In no time at all, Willy's was transformed into a sensation.

The buzz spread quicker than the smile across my face

when I arrived to work each morning.

How many cappuccinos can I get for you?

- Just the one, please. - Okay.

$3.50. Thank you.

There were no two ways about it... I loved my job,

to the point where I began to forget

that it wasn't my real job.

- - Excuse me.

Oh, we're not open yet, sir... oh, Grant.

- Hi. - Hey.

Do you have a second to talk?

- Uh... - Just for a sec?

- Yes. - Yeah.

- How's the show going? - Well...

What do you mean by that?

'Cause we're waiting for you to quit this job.

Oh, yeah.

Quit this job?

That's why you took this job in the first place.

I was thinking of... maybe I would cut down my hours

once I get things up to speed,

'cause I have a number of different...

well, you're reviewing quitting.

- Viewers need this. - Yeah.

America needs this, and the world needs this.

Six minutes until the pastries arrive, Mr. Forrest.

Do we understand each other or what?

Forrest, get out here. I want to show you something.

Take a look at this. "Lobby Java by Forrest."

Uh, Willy...

I'm really sorry. Uh...

You know, when I first started here,

I believed in what we were doing.

Now I'm not so sure.

What?

But there is, uh, one thing I know.

You're the biggest jag-off I've ever worked for.

- Forrest... - And I hope this place...

ugh...

burns to the ground with you in it,

because that is exactly what you deserve,

you nickel-and-dime chicken mother .

Oh, boy.

You call yourself a manager?

You couldn't manage a ham sandwich!

Okay, I am leaving here,

and I am never coming back,

not if you beg me!

Who's with me?

- I am! - Oh.

If Mr. Forrest goes, I go!

Oh, God.

You couldn't manage a ham sandwich!

Since we spend so much time at our jobs,

our co-workers can become like a second family,

and our workplace like a second home.

As exhilarating a rush as it is

to tell off an authority figure,

when you quit your job,

you're leaving behind much more than just a paycheck.

Quitting your job... two stars.

All right, A.J., what life experience shall I review next?

- Okay. -

An email from Gloria in Nashville, Tennessee.

She says...

Wow.

That's a great one and a profound one.

I know what I would do if it was my last day on earth.

- Yeah? - I would adopt a baby.

Yeah, well, you...

you might want to give that a little more thought.

But I don't know what I would do at all

on my last day.

I guess I'm going to find out.

To live this day as if it were my last

required a sense of reckless abandon.

Oh, !

Oh, mother ! Oh, God!

I decided to have "carpe diem,"

Latin for "seize the day," tattooed on my body.

This! What is the matter with you?

Well, I still got to charge you

for the letters I put on you.

I would not get the full carpe diem,

but I would get...

Ca.

Ca, yeah.

Ca!

I'm really living!

Hey, bring us some more nachos, okay?

With extra cheese. Oh, hell, it's my last day.

Just bring us a bowl of cheese!

Hey, let me ask you something.

If this were your last day on earth,

I mean, if there were no repercussions beyond today,

you could just go for it, what would you do?

- Well, I-I-I guess I... - No, no, no, you know what?

Don't tell me.

Just do it.

Okay.

Excuse me.

Does anybody want to leave,

go back to my place, and right now?

No.