So I'm gonna need everyone to work a little bit harder
since our overall sales are slightly down,
which is ironic since our sales of overalls are slightly up.
- I have something to say. - Sean, gather the staff.
Staff.
Nice work, Sean.
Workers, we have a problem.
One of you is a traitor.
- A traitor? - Yes, we have a mole.
Someone has been leaking inside information to our main competitor.
Behold, exhibit "A".
Next week we are launching this line of whimsical cow slippers,
but our competitor, KnightsBuryLane.Com,
beat us to the punch with this equally adorable product.
They even stole our tag-line; "They're 'udderly' comfortable".
Max, hang on, maybe it's a coincidence, huh?
Or should I say cow-incidence?
Cowincidence, you say?
Well, then explain this; Exhibit "B".
They also stole our line of alphabet candles.
Now KnightsBuryLane.Com is owned by the very man who used to own
this company and for whom you all used to work...
Andrew Sumner, philanthropist, entrepreneur, diabetic.
I read the article. It's very inspiring.
You really think someone here is spying for Andrew?
Oh, no, no, no, Hunter, I just like introducing an argument
and then withdrawing it immediately.
Sean, you have to find the mole and fire them, and, if you don't,
I will replace the entire staff with machines and runaways.
Okay.
Okay, Max, calm down, all right?
I'm on it, and everyone here is on your side, because you're a dynamic leader,
you're dressed like a super cool undertaker, and you smell fantastic, huh?
Like a cedar chest filled with coconuts.
It's the tonic that my hairdresser uses.
Good nose. You'll need it to sniff out the traitor.
Now back to work.
Good luck, Sean.
My God, I'm gonna have to fire someone? That's crazy.
Yeah, you want to hear something even crazier?
It might be me.
Sync and Correction by matheusmachado7 for www.addic7ed.com
What's going on?
Okay, a couple weeks ago I went to a wedding at the Drake.
At the bar, I ran into Andrew afterwards.
He was attending that sales conference he goes to every year.
And you got drunk and told him about our products?
Why do you drink so much at weddings, you blabby-blabby drunk girl?
I wasn't drunk, and I didn't tell him anything.
But we did make a vine together.
Oh, my God, I can't believe you made a vine.
What's a vine?
It's this.
You are the best boss ever.
- Say caboose. - Oh, caboose.
Yeah, and my name's caboose.
That's Scottish for ass.
Anyway, Andrew posted this to his vine channel, and now everybody's re-posting it.
It's only a matter of time before someone sees
that we were together, and they tell Max, and then he'll think I'm the mole.
Ugh, this is worse than blabby-blabby drunk girl.
This is viney-viney fired girl.
All right, I just have to find the real mole fast before this gets out.
How are you gonna do that?
You're a lousy Detective.
It took you 26 years to figure out you were gay.
My God, you're right.
Trust me, there were clues.
Ugh, what a day.
Someone's giving away company secrets,
and I got to go through everyone's personnel files
and look for clues, so right now I just need
a little bit of quiet and a whole lot of turkey meatballs.
My poor baby.
I'll make you a nice hot cup of tea.
- Thanks, Mom. - You're welcome.
And, just so you know, your daughter's new friend is a whore.
All I'm saying is she's a terrible influence,
she's 18, she has an older boyfriend, and if her shorts were cut any higher,
they'd be earmuffs.
Need I go on?
I wish you wouldn't.
This boyfriend gives her gifts a girl doesn't get
by just holding hands in the movie.
Holding something else maybe.
Need I go on?
- No. - His penis.
Oh, look who's here, chick-a-boom, chick-a-boom.
Wow, I'm not even straight, and I feel like chasing her around a desk.
Hi, honey. Who's your grown woman friend?
Dad. This is Becky.
She's in my freshman Spanish class.
I'm a senior.
Mr. Rodriguez keeps holding me back.
I hope someone's holding Mr. Rodriguez back.
- Dad. - What? She's 29.
It's okay.
Everyone always thinks I'm older,
but I'm finally going to pass Spanish this year because Ellie is tutoring me.
And you and I are gonna have el luncho tomorrow.
Yeah, sounds good.
Oh, my God. Did you hear that?
I'm gonna have el luncho at the senior table.
Finally something's happening to me.
Boom!
Ow, that's my hair dryer arm.
Sorry. I'm just so happy.
And we're so happy for you, darling.
End it.
I will.
I just can't deal with it tonight.
But I agree with you.
Becky's not the best.
Yeah, she's one jazzy little mattress jockey, is what she is.
I'm on board, Mom. You don't have to keep making this argument.
I once had a school friend named Annie.
Lovely, lovely girl.
Fell into the wrong crowd, got into porn, drugs.
Wound up selling one of her hands for smack.
I may have that part wrong.
So, Jerry, don't be nervous.
Take a seat.
I'm interviewing everyone to find out how Andrew's getting our company secrets.
Please don't fire me, Sean.
I'm not the mole. I swear.
Just relax, Jerry.
Not that much.
Oh, okay.
So maybe it was just all a mistake, huh?
Maybe you are at a party and you accidentally said something?
Oh, I don't go to parties.
And, when I do, I don't talk to anyone.
Well, that's something to work on.
Maybe you mentioned our new products to a friend over lunch.
Oh, I don't go to lunch.
I cannot overstate the depths of my loneliness.
It just got a little sad in here.
Do I need a lawyer, Sean?
No, Mrs. Ling. We're just having a chat.
Now you want to chat. I've been an accountant here for seven years.
You've never once come by to say, "how's Connie doing?"
- Who's Connie? - I'm Connie, you idiot!
Well, that's a little hostile.
I don't like you.
Possible motive.
So I'm gonna ask you questions like I've been asking everyone else.
All aboard.
What?
It's time to railroad the black guy, right, Sean?
I'm not railroading you, Hunter.
I don't even think you're the mole. I just have to go through the motions.
How do I know you're not the mole?
Me? Why would I be spying for Andrew?
Well, you're only the Creative Director here because Andrew promoted you.
Maybe you're paying him back by being a spy.
You got me. I'm a secret sleeper cell selling slipper secrets.
Sean.
A word with you in public?
How goes the investigation?
So I've talked to about ten people, and this is what I know so far...
Everyone's paranoid and has come to hate me.
This should help. I've had my Detective compile this dossier on everyone here.
You have your own Detective?
I keep him on retainer.
If you had a Detective, you'd know that.
Underlings, gather!
Workers, you all have secrets you've been hiding.
Secrets that Andrew could be using to blackmail you into betraying
the very company that clothes you and pays for your off-brand sodas.
Which reminds me, we're out of diet Mr. Peeper.
Oh.
You've been investigating us?
That's outrageous.
Oh, and you object, Liz.
I wonder if that's because your resume says that,
when you lived in Tokyo, you worked in P.R.,
but you were actually there as a contestant
on the Japanese game show, business man spanking machine.
Hey, I made some very important business contacts.
And then I spanked them.
And what of you, Hunter?
Did Andrew threaten to tell your hipster friends about your little side job
ghost-tweeting for adult contemporary crooner Michael Buble?
I'm making some cash, and the man's music gets me bub-laid.
Hold up. I'm gonna tweet that.
Max, we don't have to, you know...
Oh, Sean, don't worry. You've got nothing to hide, just a few
five-year-old room service charges on the company credit card...
Bottle of champagne at midnight followed by two omelets the next morning.
Sounds like straight-ahead gay sex to me.
Who was the lucky guy?
Oh, it was, I don't know, five years ago.
Who remembers?
It was at the Drake hotel over Labor Day weekend if that jogs your memory.
The Drake hotel?
That's my phone.
Ha, my Detective, he must have big news,
because he just texted me with the emoticon...
Isn't the Drake hotel where Andrew goes to that sales conference every year?
I don't know. Does he?
Yeah. Every Labor Day weekend?
Oh, my God, Sean, did you sleep with our ex-boss?
What? Me?
Andrew? Is that the phone?
Mole.
Is that how you thanked him after he promoted you?
No, smarty pants, I slept with him before I got promoted.
Wait, that's not a good defense.
Whore.
I can't believe you slept with Andrew and you didn't tell me.
I'm sorry.
Take your briefcase and go.
You have dishonored the spanking machine.
Have a seat, Sean. I've got some questions for you.
All right. Fine.
Just tell me you didn't change my chair settings
because it took me weeks to finally get them right.
So when were you planning on telling us that you were only our boss
because Andrew gave you a horizontal performance review?
That's not how I got my promotion.
And why are you so upset about this anyway?
Because I wanted that job.
You? At the time you were a temp.
And you were filling in for a temp.
You were a temp temp.
Uh-huh.
Good luck with your chair, Sean.
I pressed all the buttons and cranked the knob, just like you did with Andrew.
Sean, I know you're not the mole, but why didn't
you tell me you and Andrew were sleeping together?
We hooked up one time. I brought some papers to his hotel.
Gorgeous room, mini bar, and no female to say, "won't this ruin the friendship?"
But you never keep secrets from me.
You always tell me everything.
I know, but I was afraid you'd think I'd only slept with him to get the promotion.
And then you'd have a lower opinion of me.
I wouldn't have thought that.
But, if you didn't tell me, maybe it's because a part of you thought that.
Maybe a part of you still does.
I think a part of you should leave a part of me alone.
Oh, hi, mole.
It's come to my attention that you and Andrew
enjoyed a "no girls allowed" romance.
That makes you suspect number one.
I'm not the mole!
And I earned this job.
And I'm sorry I didn't share my secret with you.
And I'm not a whore.
And I'll have a tuna on wheat.
- Hey, Mum. - So the whore is back.
How did you find out about that?
Wait, who are you talking about?
Ellie's friend Becky. Why, who are you talking about?
Ellie's friend Becky.
Well, I saw her and Ellie today.
Becky was driving them around in a new Mercedes, enjoying from the front seat
what I'm sure she earned in the back.
Let's not be so quick to judge.
We don't know how Becky got that car.
Maybe she was gonna get it anyway,
and the sex was just a lovely thing that happened.
Do you want your daughter to think she can get things
just by learning to drive a stick?
Ellie would never think that.
Oh, my God, Becky got the coolest car.
I would do anything for a car like that.
Eh? Eh? He-eh-he-eh-he-eh.
Sorry, I don't speak chimp.
Listen, sweetheart, about your friend Becky...
Sometimes people do things so they can get things.
Although sometimes it just looks like they've done things to get things, but the
thing they got just happened to be around the same time as the thing they did.
Is that their fault? I don't think so.
- Okay. Can I go get pizza with Becky? - Sure. Give her my best.
What the hell was that?
This is the wrong day for me to give the whore lecture.
Remember my old boss Andrew?
Sure. He has that successful company now.
I was just reading about him in online retailer.
You know, for a gay man, you have very boring magazines.
Well, Andrew...
I slept with him.
Right before he promoted me.
I try to tell myself those things weren't connected, but what if they were?
What if I'm just a big, old Becky?
- You slept with Andrew? - Uh huh.
And all you got was a promotion?
Excuse me?
- Why did you let him go? - He's worth millions now.
Wait, you're worried Ellie's going to turn into a Becky,
but you think that I wasn't a big enough Becky?
Ellie's young. We don't know where her life is going.
You're over 40.
Your biggest swings at the pinata are behind ya.
That's it. I'm gonna go see Andrew.
Now? What for?
To find out the real reason he promoted me.
And to ask him who the mole is.
And to end this conversation because you are a bummer.
Mr. Sumner will be with you in a moment.
Champagne?
This is so nice.
I didn't realize until right now how much I need a British Butler.
Sean!
I'm so glad you called.
Oh, look at you. You look amazing.
- Oh, thank you. - Please take a seat.
Listen, Andrew, I know someone at Pemberton is giving you information,
and I need to know who it is.
Well, you're gonna have to tickle it out of me.
I'm kidding. Unless you want to. What I'm saying is I won't fight.
Andrew, seriously, someone could lose their job over this.
Well, then I'll hire them. They can come and work for me.
I have a lot of money, Sean. I have a toilet made of crystal.
It's like peeing into a champagne glass.
Is this the only reason you called?
Actually no.
I've also been thinking about our night at the Drake.
Oh, I think about it too.
The wine, the view, the me not having to close
my eyes and pretend I was with a a man because finally I was with a man.
You were my first, you know.
Yes, I remember that from the poem you left in my in box.
- You rhymed first with... - Burst.
Yes. Anyhow, about that night, I need to ask,
did it have anything to do with why you promoted me?
Of course not.
You got that job totally on your own merits.
Great. That clears it up.
And how I've missed your merits.
And we're back to square one.
Oh, Sean, you would have got that job whether or not we had sex.
Thank you.
Although the sex didn't hurt.
- Well, briefly. - Okay.
Wait, wait, let's try this one more time.
Did I get the job just because we slept together?
- No. Come away with me, Sean. - What?
You're the only person I'm interested in being with Fly with me to Paris tomorrow.
Paris? I can't go to Paris. I have a daughter and a job.
If we were together, you wouldn't have to work,
and your daughter can come and live here.
Does she like animals, Sean?
We could get her a horse or a monkey or a genetically engineered monkey-horse.
I don't know what we'd even feed that.
Listen, Andrew, let's slow down a little bit, okay?
You like my Butler, don't you? You can have him.
Take him for the week. Roddy, you belong to Sean now.
Very good, Sir.
No, this is crazy. You're trying to buy me, and I cannot be bought.
I've upset you.
No. Wait.
That's a good thing. I can't be bought.
All these years I've been wondering, did I sleep with you to get my job?
And then I would bury those thoughts under a pile of turkey meatballs.
Turkey meatballs. I have those. Roddy!
No, no, no. I don't want them. I just needed to know I'm not the type of guy
who trades sex to get something.
Not even the name of the mole?
Really?
No. I can't be tempted.
Good-bye, Andrew.
You're a great catch, and I'm sure you'll meet the right guy some day.
- Thanks, Sean. - Yeah.
Wonderful to see you.
You too.
Oh, my God. I know who the mole is.
- You must have read my mind. - How great are we?
I'll but you a boat.
No, stop it.
A boat or a yacht? Stop it!
Gather round, people.
I have an announcement.
I have uncovered the identity of the Pemberton road mole.
Rest assured, mole, you'll be dealt with as a mole should be.
I will flatten your head with a shovel.
Oh, hang on, I see Rachel from her giving me that look again.
So who is the traitor in our midst?
Could it be Mrs. Ling in accounting
whose attacks on me were just a ruse to deflect suspicion?
And who, let's face it, is kind of a bitch.
Or is it Hunter...
Secretly filling his Michael Buble tweets with coded messages
- only Andrew understands? - That's crazy.
I know, but I needed it for the build.
And what of Liz?
Who had a rendezvous with Andrew at a hotel bar and begged me to tell no one?
Which I haven't.
Until now.
Because I can keep a secret.
Until now.
Or maybe it was me.
- Sorry, Jerry, it's not. - Oh.
So I went to see Andrew, who refused to tell me, but, as we hugged good-bye,
I noticed a unique scent wafting from his hair.
A scent I'd smelled before on Max.
Can't talk. I'm in a meeting.
It turns out Max and Andrew share the same hair stylist,
enrico, who uses the same hair tonic on both of them.
And Enrico is happy to sell Andrew the secrets
Max divulges while he's being blown dry.
I can use those words in this context, Rachel.
Enrico.
That turquoise-covered Judas.
So Max is the mole.
Yes. Game over.
Checkmate. Touche.
Ta-da. Pretty smart. Ha.
Actually pretty smart would have been to pull me aside and discreetly suggest
that I don't discuss business during my hair cuts.
Well, I had a couple of diet Mr. Peeper's and went for it.
Well done, Sean.
You deserved to get this job over me because you're good at it.
And I also would like to apologize for everything I said previously.
You need to leave early?
- Yeah, I got a thing. - Fine.
Thanks for saving my ass.
Promise you'll never keep secrets from me again?
- I promise. - Good.
Then why is there a Butler in your office?
Oh, God, Roddy, go home.
You're free.
Wait. First, fix my chair.
Very good, Sir.
Love that guy.
I might have made a mistake.