Dick: And it's worse for Mary. Her research means everything to her and and to nobody else. If only there was some way I could help her. Oh, but faculty is labor, and labor is powerless.
Sally: You know, that actually doesn't seem fair. I mean, labor does all the work.
Harry: Yeah. If the workers didn't show, they'd have nothin'.
Dick: Harry, what you've just said, it's given me a brilliant idea. This is crazy, but bear with me. What if the workers didn't show up for work one day?
Harry: Yes. Maybe on a Sunday.
Dick: No, not on a Sunday. On a regular workday. What if these workers said they wouldn't come back until their - let's call them "demands" - were met.
Harry: You'd have them over a barrel.
Sally: The bosses would cave.

Dick: It's too late for fonts. What we need is action. We can't be afraid. Suter? You're afraid you'll lose your new office. Strudwick, you're afraid you'll lose your precious perks. Judith, you're afraid you'll die a lonely spinster surrounded by cats.
Strudwick: We're being cautious.
Dick: You're being sheep, but at least the noble sheep gives us warm sweaters. All your hides would provide are coward pants.
Judith: And you have a better idea?
Dick: We hit the chancellor where he lives. We threaten to resign en masse if we don't get what we want.
Strudwick: You mean a strike?
Dick: What? No. No, I'm calling it "The Mighty Professor Tornado of the 21st Century."
Strudwick: A strike.
Dick: Fine. We'll call it a strike.

Dick: And look at this. The chancellor has even cut off the free long distance. So much for my international ideas exchange.
Sally: That's just you dialing random numbers and talking to whoever answers.
Dick: Yes. Just yesterday, I had a brief but fruitful conversation with a Dutch lady about it being the middle of the night over there.