This is a transcript.
The following is dialog from the show New Employees. Please do not change the content of this page unless something is wrong.

Burnie enters room where Jack and Brandon sit.

Burnie: Oh. Hey. You guys are both here?

Jack: Your email said you wanted to... Speak to us?

Burnie: Yeah, but not at the same time. That's a minor detail, though, right? I mean, normally the kind of thing you'd pay attention to when your boss sends you an email, but not you guys, right?

Jack: Sorry, I guess we [motions to Brandon] misunderstood.

Burnie: So it seems you guys have both been with us for about, what, six months now?

Brandon: – Two years, actually.

Burnie: And it's standard policy that when you're here for six months we convert you over from independent contractors to salaried employees.

Jack: Oh, okay, awesome.

Burnie: Names. Which one of you guys is “Brandon?”

Brandon: [Raising hand] Um, me.

Burnie: Let me ask you a question. Do you think your name, "Brandie," sounds a lot like my name, Burnie?

Brandon: No, actually, I don't—

Burnie: Here's what we’re gonna do, Burndie. We’re just gonna write down your first name as “Milton.”

Brandon: No, no, I don't wanna be “Milton.”

Burnie: And you, [motions to Jack] you're given name is Jack, right?

Jack nods in confirmation.

Burnie: You know I have a son named Jack.

Jack: Oh yeah? Hope that isn't confusing.

Burnie: I don't see why that would get confusing, especially when we change your first name to “Farmsworth.”

Brandon laughs at Jack.

Jack: No!... Why? 

Burnie: Why? Because I have a son named Jack. Weren't you listening? I just said that. I'm not gonna name him something like Farmswoth. That's a stupid name. It's almost as bad as Milton.

Brandon: How about we just choose our own names?

Burnie: Probably should have mentioned that before I wrote it down, Milton. [Handing Brandon a nametag]

Brandon: You didn't write it down, you just put a big M, with a big line next to it!

Burnie: Yeah, it's... Permanent marker, so... We’re kind of locked in. Okay, health care. Now, [hands Brandon blood pressure measuring device] the medical questionnaire can be a little private and kind of personal, but I figure since you guys came into the conference room at the same time, you probably don't have any secrets to hide from one another, right? So. Let's just take her from the top. Does either of you have a sexually transmitted disease? Gross!

Jack: Absolutely not.

Brandon: I don't know if one of us should leave the room while we talk about this stuff...

Burnie: What do you have? Does it rhyme with “gurpies?”

Brandon: No, I—I don't—I don't have anything, I'm just saying we shouldn't have a big audience when we talk about the health care stuff.

Jack: Yeah, he's definitely got something.

Burnie: It's okay, brother. We'll keep it on the down low for you, just tell me: Does it rhyme with “gronic gyphillis?”

Brandon: I don't have an STD, okay? I'm just saying, we—Wait. What are you write—Don't write that down!

Burnie: Yeah, okay, I'll tell you what. This is not really getting us anywhere. Let's try this. Without naming any specific diseases that you have, or any gross body parts, can you tell me: have either one of you had post-nasal drip that didn't come out of your nasal, it came out of your post?

Brandon: No.

Jack: No.

Burnie: You don't seem so sure. I'm just gonna check “maybe.”

Jack: There's a maybe box?

Burnie: And I'm gonna cross out maybe and write down “probably.” Okay, then for Mr. Farmsworth over here I'm gonna put a big ol’ yes next to excessive sweatiness, what is up with that?

Jack checks for sweat.

Jack: Wait, what?

Burnie: Okay. And, guys? I really wouldn't worry about what the health care premiums are going to do to your paychecks, don't even give it a second thought.

Brandon: You guys are gonna pay for the health care?

Burnie scoffs.

Burnie: Pay for it?! What are you, crazy?! That would cost the company a fortune! I was saying don't worry about it because there's nothing to do about it! Especially with your sexually transmitted... Whateverness.

Jack motions to Brandon.

Jack: “The glap.”

Burnie: What does that rhyme with? Don't help me.

Brandon: Look, dude, will you just get away? You're sweating all over me.

Burnie: I'll tell you what. Why don't we make you guys superstars. You can start sharing a chair! I mean, you'll have to start working at the lap rotation, with, you know, somebody on top and somebody on bottom, which might be kind of difficult, what with your sexually transmitted nastiness and your excessive sweatiness, which seems to be getting worse by the second. Alright, sound good? You? You? Good? Happy? Happy? I'm happy. Alright, well, welcome aboard, guys.

Brandon goes to shake Burnie's hand.

Burnie: No, no, I need the chair. Thank you. Alright, now, Friday is the day we like to clean out the refrigerator from all the old foods, so, on Friday afternoon I'm gonna watch you guys run a little taste test, see what's rancid and what's not, okay? Maybe on that day, light lunch. Alright, keep up the good work, guys!

Burnie exits conference room.

Jack and Brandon mumble in background.

Gus: Hey.

Burnie: Hey.

Gus: So did you man up and fire those guys, or what?

Burnie: Uh, not exactly.

Gus: You know, we can't afford to keep paying them.

Jack and Brandon begin to fight over chair in background.

Burnie: Yeah, I know, I know, I know. Uh, I have a feeling that everything is gonna work out just fine. [Looking at Gus' mug] Hey, is that empty?

Gus: Yeah.

Burnie: Lemme see that. [Trades Gus chair for mug, takes out video camera, crosses to background with Jack and Brandon] Uh, hey, fellas, one more thing I forgot. I'm gonna need a urine sample, from the both of you, for drug testing, but I only have one cup, so you're gonna have to share, okay? And also I have to video tape it for insurance purposes, but don't worry, I'm pretty sure it won't end up on the internet.

Jack throws Brandon off chair.

Cut to logo.

Cut to Jack at computer.

Jack: How do I import this?

Brandon peeks out from under Jack's lap.

Brandon: Uh, control shift Q C?

Jack: Shut up, Milton.

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