Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Mr. Stone, I'm not the hostess.
Miss Howe, I'd like to see you in my office tomorrow morning at 9 a.m.
Columbus was just going on a little boat ride, huh?
Okay.
Ah, here's the maitre d'.
God, no!
Well, I always meant to.
Sweetheart, what happened?
Oh, God.
Woody, where's Sam?
You tell Rebecca that you loved being the manager, but you couldn't stand to see her being so miserable, so you got her her job back.
Listen, as long as you were gonna tell me anyway, why don't you just go ahead and tell me now?
Thank you.
Sam?
No kidding.
Excuse me, sir.
Yo!
Well, what the hell is that?
Okay, come on, let's go.
Well, I'm gonna tell her to take the stupid job back.
Is that your hand on my leg?
This is gonna be a lot easier than I thought.
Oh, God.
Well, I was going to compliment you on your blouse.
What a surprise!
You coming?
Ooh, he's got her saying yes already.
He died.
Honey, listen.
Either managing a bar is getting a lot more complicated, or I'm getting a lot dumber.
It's just that since Evan went away, my expectations are low.