Carlton: Well, I've spent the whole morning back in the stockroom. What a mess. Do you believe someone papered the ceiling with hundreds of Jet beauties?
Will: That's fly, ain't it? I like to think of it as my own Sistine Chapel.
Carlton: Yeah, well, Phillipe's been in there worshiping for two hours.
Will: Hey, hey, relax little fellow. You'll get your turn.

Will: Hey, hey, hey. What up, dog?
Carlton: Dog? Will, this is a place of business, not a kennel. Therefore, you will greet each customer as follows: "Hello, I'm..." Your name here. "Welcome to The Peacock, where our motto is: Whatever you want, we've got it."
Will: I'll give that a shot, Carlton. Hey, hey, hey. My name's Will. Welcome to The Peacock, where our motto is: Girl, whatever you got, I want it.
Carlton: Will, you're getting it all wrong.
Will: Hey, look, man, as long as I'm getting it.

Carlton: Look, Will, personal relationships aside I'm your boss, and you have to listen to me.
Will: Oh, I'm sorry, Carlton, you say something?
Carlton: May I remind you, I'm the one issuing your paycheck?
Will: Yes, sir, General Shortcoff.
Carlton: That's the spirit, soldier.

Carlton: Excuse me, ladies. I'm Carlton Banks, Peacock manager. And I'm afraid these tables are for eating not loitering.
Woman: We did eat.
Carlton: Yes, you did. Seven minutes ago.
Woman: Are you saying we have to leave?
Carlton: No, no, no. You can stay if you order something else. Look, I particularly recommend the shrimpy cocktail.

Will: What do you think you're gonna do with that, mister?
Carlton: Marking up the prices, Will.
Will: Can't let you do that, Carlton. These people are students. They're good people. Decent people. They can't afford to pay any more.
Carlton: Save it for someone who cares.
Will: Freeze, man!
Carlton: Do what you got to do, cowboy.

Carlton: Hey, give me back my gun. Listen, as your boss I'm not gonna tolerate that kind of insubordination.
Will: You're not my boss. You're just some butt-kissing, apple-a-day suck up that got lucky.
Carlton: Oh, that's it. That little outburst is going to cost you a reduction in hours.
Will: Well, I'll do you one better. How about zero hours? I quit!
Carlton: Oh, yeah? Well... Well... Don't ask me for any recommendation.

Carlton: I know Will's mad, but this is ridiculous. I mean, he hasn't talked to me in two days. What do you think I should do?
Geoffrey: Count your blessings.

Carlton: Jazz, you better get those freaks out of here immediately.
Jazz: You're the boss. [to a respectable family at a table] All right, you weirdos, beat it.

Carlton: Will, I know you only left The Peacock because of your foolish pride.
Will: No, I left because of my foolish cousin.
Carlton: Will, you can't be happy here. This is a franchise. The kind of place where they treat employees like faceless, anonymous nobodies.
Manager: [blows whistle] Will Smith, come on up here. I know you've only been here four days but the staff has voted you employee of the week! Let's have a hand for Will Smith, huh? And by the way for winning this honor, you get the weekend off with pay.
Will: Hey, hey, hey. All right. Oh, Carlton, save me from this hellhole.

Will: Oh, Carlton, hold up, man. Look, you're not a bad manager. You just stink when it comes to people.
Carlton: And you stink when it comes to business. So, what does that tell you?
Will: That we both stink.
Carlton: Yes, individually. But together we'd smell like success. What do you say, Will?
Will: No, man. I got a good thing here.
Carlton: Come on, Will. I'll make it worth your while. I'll give you priority shifts, and you can wear your own clothes and you've got unlimited use of the stockroom.
Will: No, man.
Carlton: Well, what do you want, Will?
Will: You know, I kind of want you to beg me.
Carlton: Beg? I don't know how to beg. I'm rich.