Donald Zajac: Mrs. LeBec, do you own this bar?
Carla: Get out of here. Do I look like I own this bar?
Donald Zajac: Frankly, no. But someone with an income of $1.3 million obviously isn't a cocktail waitress.
Norm: Don, is that you?
Donald Zajac: Hey, Peterson, how are you doing?
Norm: All right, buddy. Whoa. Hey, you think Carla owns this place? That's some kind of major snafu, pal. What have you got, one of those American-made computers?
Donald Zajac: I guess you're right, Norman. If she made that kind of money, why would she dress like this?
Carla: [laughs] These are my good clothes. [all laugh] I even got my hair done.
Norm: Oh, the thought that Carla could ever pull down a million bucks is absolutely nuts. All the tips she's ever made in her life wouldn't amount to that, even if she did report it, you know what I mean? [laughs] Well, carry on.
Donald Zajac: Uh, I think you'd better come with me, Mrs. LeBec, and get your receipts. And they all better be genuine.
Carla: I'm going to get you, Norm. I don't care if they put me in solitary confinement with nothing but bread and water. I'll survive, because I got a mission... Get Norm Peterson! You remember, I got friends on the outside!
Norm: By the way, Carla, no charge.