Deb: Get off my truck.
Winston: Please, it is Christmas Eve... Eve.
Deb: That's right. That's my night. So go home, and wait for your package.
Winston: All right, fine. [chuckles] Okay, whatever.
Schmidt: You know what, Deb, that's where you're wrong. There was a time when we didn't need people like you. There was a time where a man could go into a place, buy a thing and leave with that thing. And you weren't involved at all.
Winston: You lost me, Schmidt. What are you talking about?
Schmidt: Stores, Winston!
Winston: Oh, stores! I remember those.
Deb: Stores? What are you gonna do? Pay sales tax? Park? [laughing]
Schmidt: [knocks over parcels] Stores! Brick and mortar, baby!