Sam: Stand up here. Get him a beer there, Diane.
Carla: So how did it go, Norm? Damn company! [Norm sobs]
Sam: Carla.
Norm: That damn company. What do they know about the pride in a young wife's eye? The unborn child and a boy's love of a calculator?
Diane: Norman, stop torturing yourself.
Carla: And us.
Norm: I guess Billy Richter's not going to be the only one without a job. I'm not cut out to be a corporate killer.
Diane: Well, thank goodness for that.