TIRED-LOOKING GUY: If you have half a brain, the job’s easy. Unbearably, soul-crushingly dull. But easy. The night shift is fucking awful. It’s a fucking stake through your brain. But after one a.m., it pay’s double-time. Why else would I do it? Okay… (sorting some papers) Fuck… It’s amazing how many of these fucking Ivy League grads can’t write a single coherent sentence. I read this stuff – – it’s like what a lunatic might write on an asylum wall with his turd. You sure you want this job? Okay. Fuck it. Let’s get started.