Up in the Air

This is what I get in return

for 30 years of service for my company?

And they send some yo-yo like you in here

to try to tell me that I'm out of a job?

They should be telling you you're out of a job.

You have a lot of gall coming in here

and firing your number one producer.

And then you're going to go home tomorrow

and make more money

than you've ever made in your life,

and I'm going to go home without a pay check. Fuck you.

I-- I just-- I guess you leave me dumbfounded.

I don't-- I don't know where this is coming from.

How am I supposed to go back as a man

and explain this to my wife that I lost my job?

On a stress level,

I've heard that losing your job is like a death in the family.

But personally, I feel more like...

the people I worked with were my family and I died.

I can't afford to be unemployed.

I have a house payment. I have children.

Uh. Eh. I don't know how you can live with yourself,

but I'm sure that you'll find a way

while the rest of us are suffering.

Who the fuck are you, man?

Excellent question. Who the fuck am I?

Poor Steve has worked here for seven years.

He's never had a meeting with me before,

or passed me in the hall...

...or told me a story in the break room.

And that's because I don't work here.

I work for another company that lends me out

to pussies like Steve's boss

who don't have the balls to sack their own employees,

and in some cases, for good reason.

Because people do crazy shit when they get fired.

Uh. Did... did... did I do something wrong?

I mean, is there something I can do differently here?

This is not an assessment of your productivity.

You gotta try not to take this personally.

"Don't take it personally."

Steven, I want you to review this packet.

Take it seriously. I think you're gonna find

a lot of good answers in here.

I'm sure this is gonna be very helpful, a packet.

Thank you. A packet.

Well, anybody who ever built an empire or changed the world

sat where you are right now.

And it's because they sat there, they were able to do it.

That's the truth.

I'm gonna need your keycard.

Great. Okay. Now, I want you to take the day,

go get together your personal things,

and then tomorrow, you get yourself some exercise.

You go out for a jog, you give yourself some routines,

and pretty soon you find your legs.

How do I get in touch with you?

Don't worry, we'll be in touch with you soon.

This is just the beginning.

I'll never see Steve again.

Thank you.

To know me is to fly with me.

This is where I live.

When I run my card, the system automatically

prompts the desk clerk

to greet me with this exact statement.

Pleasure to see you again, Mr. Bingham.

It's these kinds of systemized,

friendly touches that keep my world in orbit.

All the things you probably hate

about traveling,

the recycled air, the artificial lighting,

the digital juice dispensers, the cheap sushi,

are warm reminders that I'm home.

Do you want the cancer?

The what? Do you want the cancer?

The cancer?

The can, sir?

Oh. No. I'm fine, thank you.

How much does your life weigh?

Imagine for a second that you're carrying a backpack.

I want you to feel the straps on your shoulders. Feel them?

Now, I want you to pack it

with all the stuff that you have in your life.

You start with the little things,

the things on shelves and in drawers,

the knickknacks, the collectibles.

Feel the weight as that adds up.

Then you start adding larger stuff,

clothes, tabletop appliances, lamps, linens, your TV.

The backpack should be getting pretty heavy now.

And you go bigger.

Your couch, bed, your kitchen table.

Stuff it all in there. Your car, get it in there.

Your home, whether it's a studio apartment

or a two-bedroom house,

I want you to stuff it all into that backpack.

Now, try to walk.

It's kind of hard, isn't it?

This is what we do to ourselves on a daily basis.

We weigh ourselves down until we can't even move.

And make no mistake, moving is living.

Now, I'm gonna set that backpack on fire.

What do you want to take out of it? Photos?

Photos are for people who can't remember.

Drink some ginkgo and let the photos burn.

In fact, let everything burn

and imagine waking up tomorrow with nothing.

It's kind of exhilarating, isn't it?

Welcome back, Mr. Bingham.

Ryan Bingham's office.

You put me in a Dodge Stratus in Kansas City.

They were completely out of all full-size sedans.

Did you try-- Yes.

I reminded them of your remarkable

No.1 Gold Club status and years in the program.

They are literally moving mountains

to see you in a Sebring.

Fair enough. Any other messages?

Uh. Your sister Kara called.

Needs to speak urgently about your sister's wedding.

I told her you were mid-air

and not even I knew your final destination.

Well done.

And you got an invitation to speak at Goalquest in Vegas.

Goalquest 20?

Every once in a while, I do speaking engagements,

motivational kind of stuff.

But Goalquest?

We're talking major Tony Robbins shit.

It's got a hologram on it. They're calling it Dos Equis.

All right, I'll check in.

Hold on. I've got Craig Gregory for you.

Wait-- No. Uh. Ah, fuck.

How is my little road warrior?

Hey, 20 minutes from boarding into a world of bliss.

Real good numbers out of Phoenix, Ry guy.

Hey, you know that, uh, Big Auto is about to cut

another 10K before the end of the month?

No kidding. Yeah. Christmas came early.

I wish I could have you in five places at once,

but I need you back in Omaha by the end of the week.

I thought you needed me everywhere.

Well, you know, we got something real big here,

a real game changer.

What are we talking about here? You'll see.

Today I took my first crap in two weeks, hallelujah.

That's me hanging up on you. Great, love that sound.

Are you satisfied with Maestro?

Yeah, I am.

A little stingy with their miles. I like Hertz.

No, Hertz keeps its vehicles too long.

If a car has over 20,000 miles, I won't drive it.

Maestro doesn't instant checkout.

I like to park and go.

Hertz doesn't guarantee navigation.

It's funny. You don't seem like a girl who needs directions.

I hate asking for directions. That's why I get a nav.

That new outfit, Colonial, isn't bad.

Is that a joke? Yes.

Because their kiosk placement blows.

Yeah, they never have available upgrades.

Basically, it's a fleet of shit-boxes.

I-- I don't know how they're still in business.

I'm Ryan.

I'm Alex.

All right.

Oh. Maplewood card.

How dare you bring that into this palace?

Hilton offers equal value and better food,

but the Maplewood gives out warm cookies at check-in.

Oh, they got you with the cookies, did they?

Yeah. I'm a sucker for simulated hospitality.

There's an industry term for that.

It's a mixture of, uh, "faux" and "homey." "Faumey."

Hmm. Oh, my God.

I wasn't sure this actually existed.

This is the, uh... the American Airlines, uh--

It's a Concierge Key, yeah.

Oh, what is that, carbon fiber? Graphite.

Oh, God, I love the weight.

I was pretty excited the day that bad boy came in.

Yeah. I'll say.

I put up pretty pedestrian numbers.

Uh. Sixty thou a year, domestic.

That's not bad. Don't patronize me.

What's your total? It's a personal question.

Oh, please. And we hardly know each other.