Emily: What happened to all the competent people? That's what I'd like to know. Was there some giant hole they all fell into or a virus that struck them all down, leaving the morons of the world to sit behind the desks?
Lorelai: Mom, wouldn't you like to sit down, have a nice cup of tea?
Emily: I don't want a cup of tea. What I want is the most perfunctory level of competence from the people with whom I interact. And that apparently is far too much to ask for.
Rory: Grandma, we have snacks.
Lorelai: Yes, Mom, snacks. We have salty snacks and sweet snacks and sweet/salty hybrid snacks.
Emily: I mean, even at the club, I'm telling you, the young men and women that work there must have a combined I.Q. of a grapefruit. You ask them for a towel, and they look at you with the most vacant eyes. I'm telling you, I thought the girl at reception was blind the entire first month she worked there. Blind, but very enthusiastic about the application of eyeliner.
Lorelai: Sounds pretty.
Emily: My husband has a heart attack, and how long does it take them to find me? 40 minutes. The nitwit probably got lost between the front desk and the tennis courts.