Cliff: Good gravy, look at here. Says that one out of every three of our leisure dollars is spent in some kind of an amusement park. Mickey Mouse is a billion-dollar industry. For crying out... You know, if you've got to have theme parks, you know, why not give the kids some real heroes to look up to? You know what I mean? Like generals, astronauts, postal workers, uh, pioneers.
Frasier: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up there, Cliff. Postal workers?
Cliff: Sure. Yeah, why not? Hey, why not indeed. Get this. "Postal World". Huh? No, hey, hey, that's that's not half bad.
Norm: No. It's all bad.
Cliff: No, no, no. No. No, no, no. Just imagine this. You know, a whole amusement complex devoted to the postal experience. I mean, all of America could thrill to the glory and-and the pageantry and the passion that is the US Postal Service.
Frasier: And you seriously think that'll work?
Cliff: Oh, you bet I do. You know... You know, if I can peddle this idea, I might be able to make some real money and get out of this dead-end job.

Woody: Oh, hi, Miss Howe. Uh, you got a message. Mr. Stone got fired, and the new Executive Vice President wants to see you in his office at 4:30 p.m. sharp.
Rebecca: Let me see that. This is a blank piece of paper, Woody.
Woody: Well, I know. I just carried it to remind me to give you the message.

Norm: Well, this gets you off the hook a little bit, doesn't it?
Rebecca: Don't be so sure. Things don't change. It's just another executive who will take an instant dislike to me, and then make my life hell. Unless he's been reading my reports and sees that I've been treated unfairly and decides to champion me in the firm. Come off it! I'm sure he's already heard the stories, and he's just gonna bring me in there and laugh at me. [opens office door] I need to calm down. I'm beginning to hear buzzing sounds. [enters office then comes back out] What the hell is in this box?
Woody: Those are my bees, Miss Howe.
Rebecca: Enough said.
Woody: Hey, can I keep them in there till then end of the day?
Rebecca: Sure. Anything you want. In my mood, I'll agree to anything.
Sam: Sounds like my cue.

Sam: Good Afternoon, Miss Howe. I believe you've met my associate, Mr. Peterson.
Norm: How do you do?
Rebecca: What is this?
Sam: Well, since you admire the people in the business world so much, I thought that I would try speaking to you in a language that you might understand. First graph, please.
Rebecca: Norm, how much did he pay you to do this?
Norm: Oh, come now. Mr. Malone and I go way back. We're dear old friends. $80. Not yet.
Sam: Okay. Now, this first graph represents your dating history.
Rebecca: There's nothing on it.
Sam: Exactly.
Rebecca: Next graph, please. Now, this line represents the sexual drive of a woman about your age throughout her entire life. All right. Now, this line here represents the sexual drive of a man about my age. You'll notice that these two lines intersect at approximately 4:27 this afternoon right here.
Rebecca: What's that?
Sam: My place. Thank you, Mr. Peterson. That'll be all.

Sam: Stone's out? My main man at HQ? Boy. I mean, there go all my corporate hopes. Wait a minute. I don't have any corporate hopes.

Martin Teal: You work here at headquarters?
Rebecca: No, I'm out in the field in a managerial position. I'm here for a meeting with the new Executive Vice President, Mr. Teal.
Martin Teal: Ooh. He's tough. You nervous?
Rebecca: Hardly. I've seen so many suits come and go, that now I just take them in stride.
Martin Teal: I admire that. Of course, I admire anything with those dark smoldering eyes. [elevator bell dings]
Rebecca: Excuse me.
Martin Teal: If you would like- It's getting a little crowded in here. Maybe we could continue this conversation over dinner tonight.
Rebecca: [laughs] You're asking me to dinner?
Martin Teal: Dinner and who knows?
Rebecca: Oh. Well, that sounds fine. Should we take my car, or will your mommy be driving us?
Martin Teal: What?
Rebecca: Oh, and I have one other strict rule. I like all my guys to eat all their nice vegetables and not spill anything on their bibbums.
[Rebecca gets out of the elevator, knocks on an office door and enters:]
Rebecca: Mr. Teal, your secretary must have stepped out for a moment. I'm Rebecca Howe. What an honor to meet you, sir.
Dennis: No, no, no, I'm not Martin Teal.
Martin Teal: I am. [Rebecca screams]

Delivery Guy: Uh, we got a delivery here for Woody Boyd.
Woody: Already? Oh, boy! [jumps over the bar] Great.
Delivery Guy: Sign right there.
Woody: Hey, uh, Sam, you think Miss Howe will mind if I put this in her office till the end of my shift?
Sam: That depends. What's in it?
Woody: 4,000 bees.
Sam: Then, by all means.

Norm: Woody, I didn't know you kept bees.
Woody: Oh, are you kidding? Hey, when I was a kid, you couldn't keep me away from my Uncle Fergy's hives. In fact, you'll never guess what they used to call me.
Carla: The kid rolling around on the ground in agony covered with painful welts?
Woody: No. Uh, Woody, the beekeeper.
Carla: Oh.
Woody: But you couldn't have known that.

Woody: Yeah, Uncle Fergy always told me that when he retired, he'd send me a batch of his best buck fast bees. Huh? This is gonna be great.
Cliff: Woody, are you sure it's safe to keep those things in here?
Woody: Oh, Mr. Clavin, a bee won't hurt you unless you scare him. Like my Uncle Fergy always told me, move slowly and methodically, and a bee can be your best friend. [buzzing]
Carla: Go for it, Cliff. It's the best offer you ever had.

Rebecca: You know, Norm, I would have expected this of Sam, but I can't believe you were part of it.
Norm: Well, it was either this, or, uh, listening to Cliff sing the "Ave Maria." [opens door]
Cliff: [o.s.] Ave Maria
Norm: Please, five more minutes. Could I please?