Paul: Hey.
Producer: Paul! My favorite assistant! What's up, man?
Paul: You guys owe me $1,000 in back pay.
Paul: I sent you three e-mails about it, and mentioned it to you twice over instant messenger. You said you'd look into it. Also, you still haven't paid me back for the stamps I bought you last week.
Producer: La la la la la . . .
Paul: Are you even listening to me?
Producer: (singing) Oh Mandy, you came and you gave without taking . . .
Paul: That's two full weeks of 12-hour days. You have to pay me!
Producer: (singing). . . you kissed me and stopped me from shaking . . .
Paul: My rent is due next week. I can't pay it without that money.
Producer: Did you watch the Lakers game last night? Great game.
Paul: Are you going to pay me?
Producer: Geez, it's just a one-track mind with you, isn't it? No conversation, just business, business, business. Talk to the payroll person.
Paul: You are the payroll person.
Producer: I am, aren't I. Say, could you fetch me a coffee? Thanks a million, big shooter!
Paul: You're never going to pay me, are you?
Producer: I can't write checks without my morning coffee.
Producer: Thanks, bitch.
Paul: Now about the money you owe me . . .
Producer: I owe you money?
Paul: You owe me $1,000.
Producer: For what?
Paul: For being the personal office whore. For taking care of everyone's personal business, handling everyone's non-work-related errands, and doing a million other things that have absolutely nothing to do with this company. For giving up all aspects of my social life to sit here just in case you people need something at 8pm on a Friday night. And while we're on the subject of payment, you also owe me about $120 in mileage and, once again, $15 for the stamps I bought you last week.
Producer: You bought me stamps?
Paul: PAY UP, DEADBEAT!
Producer: Paul, this is Hollywood. Let me tell you how things work here. Hiring an actual payroll person is expensive, so production companies just pass those duties to some low-level producer like me who can't even balance his own checkbook. I'm incompetent. All producers are incompetent with payroll, because none of us have the slightest idea how to do it. So when it comes to keeping track of temporary workers like you, we usually screw up your paychecks and refuse to admit it. After a few weeks of whining, you give up and accept the fact that if you don't want to be blacklisted as a troublesome assistant and never hired again, you're going to occasionally get screwed out of a few thousand dollars.
Paul: I'm from Minneapolis. Let me tell you how things work with people from Minneapolis. When someone doesn't pay us, we punch them in the side of the fucking head. And then, ten seconds later, if they still haven't paid us, we punch them in the side of the fucking head again.
Paul: I know I can't sue you, because no one at this company would risk losing their job to testify that I worked the days I claim to have worked, but I can keep punching you in the side of the fucking head until you pay me.
Producer: You're not seriously going to keep . . .
Producer: I'll get my checkbook.
