Bob: All right, Johnny, uh, I guess just let me know when you've finished cleaning up, and, uh, I'll find something else for you to do.
Johnny: Bob, I don't work for you, I'm just setting up an office.
Bob: No, I know, it's your space. And, uh, just so you know, garage opens at eight, but if you're here a few minutes before that, even better.

Bob: I got a great spot for a chair right there. Uh, you just have to move these tires. Um, filing those papers'll give you some extra space.
Johnny: Yeah, Bob, I'm not working for you, I'm not filing papers.
Bob: No, I'm just saying, if you need to get a chair in here, you know, you might have to move some things. Maybe, you know, sell some old car parts.
Johnny: Yeah, I didn't come here looking for a job. Okay? I wanted a space to work, and frankly I don't think this is it.
Bob: Okay, well uh, I'm not saying you have to make a decision right now. Just maybe clean it up, and give it a think.
Johnny: How about I give it a think without cleaning it up!
Bob: Suit yourself. As long as it gets cleaned up at some point.

Moira: You know, when I was a young girl, my sister and I baked bread from scratch, in a kitchen half this size.
David: Do I wanna hear this story?
Moira: I could make a bed, I could fix a wobbly table, or start a car without a key. Then I met your father, and suddenly I had people to do everything for me. And I assumed that I would maintain my proficiencies, should I ever, God forbid, need them. But no, I have lost all my skills. And now I know how it feels to be utterly helpless, like you, and your sister.
David: I don't know if I'd call us "helpless."
Moira: No need to make me feel better.