Elaine: [answers phone] Hello, Mr. Peterman, how are you feeling?
J. Peterman: Elaine, I'll be blunt. I'm burnt out. I'm fried. My mind is as barren as the surface of the moon. I can run that catalog no longer.
Elaine: What? Well, who's gonna do it?
J. Peterman: What about you?
Elaine: Me? Why me?
J. Peterman: Why, indeed.
Elaine: Mr. Peterman, you can't leave.
J. Peterman: I've already left, Elaine. I'm in Burma.
Elaine: Burma?
J. Peterman: You most likely know it as Myanmar. But it will always be Burma to me. Bonne chance, Elaine. [to a passerby] You there on the motorbike! Sell me one of your melons!