Better Off Ted (2009–2010): Season 2, Episode 8 - The Impertence of Communicationizing - full transcript

Communication. It's important to
any successful relationship.

It's true between people,

and between a company
and its employess.

Debbie.

Relax.

Breath.

Turn.

Hello.

I wanted to communicate to
you an idea I had about

- the meals-ready-to-eat project.
- I'm sorry. It's my fault.

What's your fault?



I'm not prepared to
have a meeting right now.

Oh, no. We're not having
a meeting. We're just...

I'm not prepared, I wish I was.

Because when I'm not prepared,
I get nervous and repeat.

Repeat.

Why don't I just jot my
idea down and send it to you?

That would be fantastic.

Fantastic.

She gets a little nervous around me.

Luckily talking to Debbie isn't the only way

we communicate around here.

There's also the memo.

Memo 314... employees must not use

offensive or insulting
language in the workplace.



"Employees must now use
offensive or insulting language

in the workplace"? This
has to be a mistake.

Why would the company want
us to swear at each other?

Well, maybe they're trying
to make the people at work

seem more like a real
family, butt-munch.

Yeah, this is gonna be good.

Like everything the company does to us,

it's gotta be about saving money,

maybe when someone's called
a "lazy sack of crap,"

they work harder so they
can just be a "sack of crap."

Oh, this is gonna be a problem.

People here follow memos.

Especially since that memo came out
saying people have to follow memos.

This one is gonna
cause potty-mouth chaos.

Oop, Ted's gearing up for a burst of

middle-management leadership.

Out goes the chest, up goes the chin...

I am going to go get this fixed.

And away.

This whole memo thing

is bringing up this strange sensation.

It's like my feelings are itchy.

Oh. Sounds like
something human is trying

- to fight its way out of you.
- Yes, I think it's an emotion...

Like joy or spicy food.

Technically, spicy food isn't a...

So what is it about the
memo that brings all this up?

Well, it reminds me of
another memo five years ago,

when I was promoted to this job.

I was up against this man... Walter...

Who had the same last name as I do,

although we pronounce it differently.

There's another way
to pronounce "Palmer"?

In his family, the "p" is silent.

I think they're Dutch.

Sounds like their stupid
handiwork, with their cheeses

and their giant propeller buildings.

So Walter... "Almer"?

I know. Those people are unbelievable.

Anyway, they announced
the promotion in a memo,

congratulating V. Palmer

only then, it went on to wish him well.

I put through the paperwork,
but I've never known

whether that job was really
meant for me or Walter.

Maybe that itchy feeling
you have is guilt.

Guilt is a powerful emotion.
Every Thanksgiving, it makes me

take three planes just so I
can visit my racist aunt Cookie.

So this is guilt, huh?

In the past, I've always
just counteracted this feeling

with other emotions,
like sugar or drunk.

You should talk Walter. Maybe
find some way to help him.

Guilt it is a terrible
thing to carry around.

Well, I do hate this feeling.

- I hate it like I hate...
- Don't tell me. The Dutch?

I don't hate the
Dutch. I love the Dutch.

That's why I hold them
to a higher standard.

I don't know where
this memo came from...

But it's obviously a mistake,
so I was hoping human resources

- could put out a correction.
- We'll look into the matter.

Really?

No. The company doesn't make
mistakes like this, Mr. Crisp.

What about that memo
announcing "casual fribsday"?

The company said that wasn't a mistake.

They explained that the ancient
Mayans prophesized fribsday...

The first ever end day of week,

which will occur in 2024,

and the company believes
should be celebrated casually.

I'm going to wear a denim pantsuit.

And when they urged all
employees to "carpoop"?

That was not mandatory. Thank God.

Although, we did find
out what people will do

to park slightly closer to the building.

So you're not gonna help me with this?

Sorry. I like the memo.

All day long, I have to listen
to people like you complain.

Now I can finally tell 'em what I think,

- you white-toothed Ken doll.
- You know, having white teeth

and looking like a handsome
doll is not exactly...'

- turd-hat.
- Fair enough.

The company wasn't
going to retract the memo

telling employees to be rude
and abusive, and that meant

things were going to get very
confusing for Phil and Lem,

who unfortunately
never read their memos.

And so this new line

of meals-ready-to-eat gives
the soldier in the field

a portable meal with all
the home-cooked flavor of

something mom used to chemically
dehydrate and vacuum pack.

I was looking at the
ingredients and I was wondering

if there's enough
protein content, you boob.

Excuse me?

I was wondering about
the protein content.

- But then you said...
- You boob.

There it is.

I suppose we could add more
protein to the thing we call

"beige block three," or "stroganoff."

It's got plenty of protein,
you big-eyed stick insect.

The problem is the vegetables.

Okay, fellas, let's just try
to keep it under control here.

Don't listen to these
bucktoothed hillbillies.

Taste is the real problem.

It's a battlefield, not
a four-star restaurant,

back-alley crab muffin.

Okay, I gotta ask... what's going on?

Because this meeting is a lot
saucier than the one yesterday.

Looks like somebody didn't get the memo.

He asks a simple question

and you give him sarcasm from the eighties?

Here.

Oh, it's an actual memo.

They want us to insult
each other... sir?

That wasn't a good one.

But in my meetings,
that's not going to happen.

But the memo said we had to.

Well, we're not doing
it in here, Pudberger.

What? That's his last name.

So Veronica went down to the basement...

Hoping she'd feel better if
she talked to Walter Almer.

Hello, Walter.

I don't believe it. Veronica Almer.

I'm sorry, Palmer.

I never could get used to
the way you pronounce it.

Here, I brought you a cake

and a jar of herring.

Maybe you can wait until I leave

before you smear the cake with it.

I'm not Dutch.

Uh, and the Dutch don't smear herring

on half the things you say they do.

But thanks for the
cake. Is it my birthday?

I sort of lose track of time down here.

No, I just want to say
I've always felt bad

that we had to compete for the same job.

Please. I'm the one who feels
bad. I've always hated how I acted

in the bull pen after
losing that promotion.

It was not a good impression of you,

and I'm sorry I
stretched out your shoes.

Don't worry.

They were the cheap
footwear of my former life.

Can I buy you something
to cheer this place up?

Maybe a lava lamp or
a freezer of steaks.

I'm the one who feels guilty

about the way I handled your promotion.

Let me make it up to you...

Take you out for a drink or something.

Ew.

Are very thoughtful, but I can't.

Oh, I get it. You're still mad at me.

I'm such a jerk.

And I deserve to carry this guilt around

back and forth in this tiny basement.

Okay, I'll have a drink with you.

Any chance you have a bottle down here,

and we can just knock it out right now?

That meeting was chaos. I
hate all the name-calling.

And it's nott because my mama is fat

and does sit around the house.

I kind of like it. It
makes people freer...

Like they can say
whatever's on their mind.

Even Debbie spoke up today,
and she never talks in meetings.

Well, we're not doing
it in here, Pudberger.

What? That's his last name.

All right, let's just try to regroup.

Wait! You pretty-boy suit rack.

What this MRE needs is Ethiopian stew.

It's hearty, nutritious and simple,

like all of you bastards.

Debbie's never opened her mouth before,

- and it was a good suggestion.
- It was a good idea.

But then Mark called her
a Tory-loving royalist,

and everything fell apart again.

You ju don't like this

because you always
have to be in control.

You're a control freak...
that's what you are.

I don't always have to be in control...

Although, it is my
exact job description.

You're tall, you're handsome,

you got the power tie, the power suit.

People think you're intimidating, Ted,

and you like that because it means

- you get everything you want.
- Okay, first of all,

my appearance is not my
fault. God made me this way,

and then he told me
where to shop for suits.

Ted, a little chaos can be a good thing.

My grandpa met my grandma

when a tornado blew her into his barn.

He pulled the rake out of her
chest and proposed on the spot.

We really should have
been reading these memos.

Damn! We didn't have
to work on Thanksgiving?

And look! Like I suspected,

we were supposed to
be wearing lead aprons

when we were working on
that genital x-Ray project.

Here it is.

"Employees must now use
offensive or insulting language

in the workplace."

I can play this game.

I wrote that humorous column
in my college newspaper...

"Lem's snappy answers to
theoretical physics questions."

Pow! You've been Lem-basted.

I'm terrible at insults.

As a child, I was beaten up constantly.

The best comeback I
ever came up with was,

"you're right. I'll work on that."

I can help you, you
sad jar of hobo urine.

Pow! I've been Lem-basted.

Hey, who is that relaxed
and approachable guy?

Is that Ted? Why, yes, it is.

You look like you're on
your way to mix cocktails

at a swim-up bar.

Well, I... I was thinking
about what you said...

About how I might seem a little
controlling and intimidating.

So I tell you to take a look
at the way you approach life,

and you put different
clothes on? What a dill weed.

And that's not a
company-mandated insult.

That one came from the heart.

Well, come on.

The clothes are symbolic...
the first step in saying

that I'm willing to
try to make a change.

Actually, I was hoping
the clothes would cover it.

I had the worst night last night.

Didn't you get the memo?

Casual fribsday is not until 2024.

I'm trying to be less
intimidating. Apparently, my...

Wow. That's the fastest I've
ever lost interest in something.

I went out with Walter Almer
last night because of you.

Me? What did I do?

You started questioning memos,

which brought up all this itchy guilt,

so I agreed to have drinks with the guy.

He told me, after he lost
the promotion, his wife left.

I felt even more guilty, so I
let him take me out to dinner,

where I learned he also lost his house.

Then I find out he's living
in his parents' basement,

which is so damp, his dog got
arthritis, fell down the stairs

and now has to be carried
around like a suitcase.

- So I let him kiss me.
- Oh, my God!

But then I still felt guilty,
so I let him feel me up.

- Oh, my...
- Yeah.

I'm thinking I might need new breasts.

These are covered in sadness.

Wow. This is like the most
depressing "penthouse" letter ever.

I kept waiting for the guilt
to lift, but it never did.

What am I gonna do?

Maybe I'll buy him a boat.
Guys like boats, right?

Hey, Veronica.

I had a great time last night.

I was wondering if maybe I
could take you to dinner later

for a little Walter and Veronica,

version 2.0.

How would you like a boat?

Something you could
just get in and go...

Really shove off...
Just get out of here.

Well, I couldn't take a
gift like that from you.

I'd feel too guilty.

Yeah, guilt. What a horrible thing.

See you at 8:00.

Oh, and this time, please don't say,

"thank you for kissing with me."

Can you press "10" for
me, you rat-face nazi?

Your breasts should be on display

at the Swiss museum of miniatures.

You said 10, right?

Before we start, I realize
some people may think

I'm controlling and
a little intimidating.

But I want you to know,
all ideas are welcome.

Really. I want to hear from everyone.

Could you repeat that in
English? I don't speak wuss-ass.

We're not doing that in here, Phil.

I'm so very sorry. You won't
hear another word out of me.

So not being controlling
lasted for about one second?

I'm sorry. The naggity-nag-nag
bitchy-bitch is right.

Anything anyone wants
to say is fine by me.

You heard the corporate chimp.

Start making suggestions
for meals-ready-to-eat

before his head goes back up his butt.

I like fresh tomatoes,
right off the vine.

Oh, come on, Mark, use your head.

How are we gonna get fresh...

Open forum, chim chim.
Just let the ideas flow.

I'm sorry, Mark. I'm writing it down.

Sometimes when I'm lonely,
I like to watch myself eat.

Why don't we put a mirror in there?

You like to watch yourself eat?

I'm writing it down.

I like to have some wine with dinner.

They're soldiers!

Writing it down.

I need your help, slut.

What's the problem, tight-ass?

Easy, Linda. It's a
memo, not a magic shield.

I need to make a man run
screaming from my life.

I'm happy you came to me for advice,

but sad this is my area of expertise.

I went out again with
Walter. Now if I blow him off,

he'll think that I
hurt him five years ago,

then looked him up and got
him to fall in love with me

so I could hurt him again.

Plus, I backed over his
foot when I was leaving,

which, according to
our relationship math,

means tonight's the night.

Well, in my experience, scaring
a man away is pretty easy.

Basically, you're gonna
want to put three words

into heavy rotation...
future, babies, commitment.

Back off! I need my space.

Wow, those words are powerful.

What are you ciphering there, jethro?

I've really enjoyed
repeating the put-downs

you've been feeding me, but
I want to do it on my own.

Give a man an insult, he
can hurt people for a day.

Teach a man to insult,
he can hurt people

who tease him because
he never learned to fish.

Anyway, I've devised a formula.

Look at that.

You had a problem in your life
and who stepped up to help you?

Math. She has always been
there for you, hasn't she, Phil?

If she ever took physical form,
I'd leave my wife and marry her.

Stand in line, my friend.

Anyway, it's really quite simple.

You take a person's most
marked physical feature,

compare it to genitalia...
male, female or animal...

And end with the suffix
"-bag," "-wipe" or "-muncher."

You could also add an
optional reference to excretion

from any of the glorious openings

offered by the human body.

Should we take her for a spin?

Excuse me, Roger?

Your head looks like lizard
butt flap, you snot wipe.

Walter.

Hey... it looks like somebody
can't get enough of me.

You're right. I can't. In
fact, we need to talk about us

and the future of our babies
and how they'll be committed.

Wow, that's a lot to take in. Okay.

I need this relationship
to have a future

because I need babies. That's right...

Big, screaming babies
shooting out of my uterus,

just stacking up like cordwood.

Really?

Yes, sir. That's all
I ever think about...

The future, babies and commitment.

Future, babies, commitment.
Future, babies, commitment.

Commitment, commitment,
commitment, commitment...

Whoa, slow down! This is
happening a little fast.

Okay! I'll do it!

- Babies, babies, babies, babies...
- Yes!

As many as you want!

My parents always say
that since my wife left,

I've been too cautious about
relationships, but damn it!

This is the one. I know it is.

Let's light this candle and blast off

into a calm, settled,
monogamous relationship.

Oh, my. Look at me.

I'm so happy, I can't feel my legs.

So I took everyone's ideas for
the meals-ready-to-eat project,

and here it is.

The specs called for a soldier to carry

three of these in his backpack.

Now we have to design
a 14-foot soldier.

Good news, Ted.

I cured Walter of his
fear of commitment.

He wants to get portraits
painted of the two of us

with his suitcase dog,
all wearing turtlenecks.

I've got a box lunch the
size of a handball court.

Now I gotta go find Phil and Lem

and straighten out this MRE disaster.

Don't "boo-hoo" me.

Did that MRE touch your boobies, Ted?

Then shut the hell up.

What I didn't know was Phil
and Lem weren't in the lab.

They were having an entirely
different adventure...

Test-driving their new
insult-generating formula.

Your eyes look like
two beady rabbit pellets

on the face of a
monkey-licking pus-bomb.

- You've just been
Phil-abusted. - Nice!

That's it... fill up your
canker-blossomed hole,

you ale-soused
apple-John.

That was the Elizabethan model.

Ye have been served.

Nice man-boobs,

for a panty-snatching steroid muncher.

What's the matter?
Didn't you get the memo?

No, Phil, he didn't.

He delivers the water.
He doesn't work here.

Thank God that finally broke.

Hey, Ted.

I may go home early
today and never come back.

You can't go home. I need you guys.

And that's it... the insulting
language stuff has got to end,

you douche-nozzles.

Sorry. That was one for the road.

We just got Ted-ucated.

Look, Janet, it's crazy out there.

Two of my guys just
got beaten with water.

I'm sorry. There's nothing
I can do, Mr. Crisp.

I don't like that memo anymore either.

Way too many people are
having fun with my name.

I'm surprised it took this memo

to get that train out of the station.

Look, I've had several complaints,

but the company is not going
to admit it made a mistake.

What if it didn't have to
admit it made a mistake?

What if it could just say that
it... it's making a... a new policy,

based on a groundswell
of employee opinion?

Look at that pretty little
head of yours, working up ideas.

I'm a fan.

Well, I like you, too, Janet.

So we gonna do this?

What are we talking about, exactly?

End this policy.

Oh, that.

Well, if we call it a groundswell,

I think the company would go for it.

That way, it gets to
pat itself on the back

for listening and being
a great communicationer.

You mean "communicator."

That's not what it says in the handbook.

Hey, I just got this memo.

We don't get to swear
at each other anymore.

It was due to a "groundsmell."

Well, the good news is, this company

does not squander its best
and brightest typing memos.

So is this all going in the MRE?

Yeah. It now stands for
"meal really enormous."

This is what happens when you
take everyone's suggestions.

Well, why did you do that?

Because someone I care about
thought I was controlling.

You care that much
what I think about you?

You are talking about me, right?

Yes.

So is any of this stuff usable?

Yeah. Debbie's Ethiopian
stew is pretty good.

And... and when it hardens,

it forms an unbreakable
arch support in your foot.

Oh, well, see? There you go.

All you needed was one good idea.

And you got that because
you listened to everyone,

which you did because
you listened to me.

In case you missed it, the
lesson here is listen to me.

What's this I'm hearing
about Ethiopian stew shoes?

It's all they're talking about upstairs.

Well, speaking of
exciting developments...

When I was in HR,

I dug up this old memo
about your promotion.

All the executives
had to sign off on it.

Really?

"I know we agreed not to let
women into upper management,

but Veronica Palmer is man-smart.

And, hello, as she breaks
through the glass ceiling,

we can all look up her skirt."

Oh, my God. That promotion was mine.

I didn't ruin Walter's life.

What is wrong with
those old farts upstairs?

Seriously, they wrote that in 2005.

I am off to scrape Walter off my shoe.

You may want to be more gentle...

I have a hickey on my belly.

And so Veronica went
down to the basement

and broke up with Walter.

But then she made it up to him

by giving him a new aboveground office.

Wow.

Thank you.

Phil and Lem retired
their insult formula

and made amends with the water guy.

And I realized communication
isn't just about talking.

It's about listening.

Debbie, I just wanted to say

I appreciated your work on the MRE,

and when it comes to any
other toughts you may have,

I'm listening.

I think we should go out, Ted.

You can do whatever you want to me.

And just because I listen

doesn't mean I have to
take every suggestion.