“Jenkins!”

“Sir?”

“I had an idea.”

“I’ll get your lawyer on the phone.”

“No, no, not that kind of idea. A business idea!”

“Oh, good. The company needs a boost after Cheeseshark.”

“I still believe that people want sharks made out of cheese delivered to their homes.”

“I’m still confused as to whether it was a cheese in the shape of a shark, or a living shark somehow made out of cheese.”

“Let’s chalk it up to experience. We learned something.”

“But what?”

“Couches, Jenkins. Couches are the future. Teach them well and let them lead the way.”

“You’re talking about the children, sir.”

“Show them all the beauty they possess inside.”

“Still singing Whitney Houston.”

“O.J. killed her, you know.”

“O.J. did not kill Whitney Houston. Couches, sir. Concentrate.”

“Couches!”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re going to sell couches.”

“Sir, we’re a tech start-up.”

“Fine, we’ll disrupt couches. Whatever.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Jenkins, how many couches did you buy this week?”

“One, sir.”

“Ah, wonderful. Simple amortization shows that you therefore buy 52 couches a year.”

“That’s not what amortizing is, sir. And it’s just a coincidence I bought a couch this week. It is literally the only couch I have ever purchased.”

“What were you sitting on before?”

“I had a couch. I got it from my mother.”

“I gave it to your mother.”

“Well done, sir.”

“Start the little tech weirdos on an app.”

“For what?”

“Delivery. We’re going to be the Pizza Hut of couches.”

“But people buy multiple pizzas. You only need one couch.”

“No, you’ll need a new one when it breaks.”

“Our couches are going to break?”

“Quickly.”

“So why would people order another one from us?”

“Convenience!”

“I don’t understand.”

Jenkins, you aren’t even listening to me: we’re going to have an app. One-click shopping. Ooh, I have an idea.”

“No-click shopping is not an idea, sir.”

“Why not? The instant you open the app, we ship you out a couch and charge your credit card. Very convenient.”

“That is the opposite of convenient, sir. What if you open the app by mistake and now you have a couch you didn’t want?”

“Jenkins, do you know the story of De Beers?”

“The diamond merchants.”

“Not the Jews, Jenkins. The Dutch. And Cecil Rhodes. And the Rothschilds. So, yes, I suppose the Jews. You know, Jenkins: I often wonder whether the Jews discovered neuroses or invented neuroticism.”

“Let’s get back to your theories on the Jews later, sir.”

“Diamonds!”

“Diamonds.”

“Huge find in Africa. Massive. The biggest stones you’ve ever seen, Jenkins. Can you imagine how they shined once you washed the natives’ blood off them?”

“I cannot.”

“So they have these diamonds and no one to buy them. What do they do? They create their own market and invent an ancient tradition. The engagement ring, Jenkins. A fiction created by the merchant selling them. And you know what I think?”

“Never. I never have any damned idea what you’re thinking.”

“I say we beat them at their own game!”

“See? I had no idea you were going to say that.”

“What if instead of spending two-months salary on a ring, you spent it on a couch?”

“An engagement couch, sir?”

“It’s perfect, Jenkins. That’s what marriage is! Two people sitting on a couch.”

“And the love.”

“That’s what the sitting represents! To share a seat is to share love.”

“That’s almost sweet, sir.”

“You going fruit on me, Jenkins?”

“Sir, if you hate sitting through the sensitivity training so much, why do you insist on saying things like that?”

“The lawyer who gives the lecture has luscious melons.”

“Sir.”

“Big back porch.”

“Sir.”

“Wanna sit on her ass and whittle.”

“Couches.”

“Couches!”

“Are you sure you don’t want to think about expanding? How about furniture?”

“Nope. Couch.”

“Settee.”

“Nah.”

“Divan.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Love seat.”

“Unholy and libricious! Licentious and unharrowed!”

“Half of those words aren’t words.”

“I reject you, love seat! Neither hot nor cold: love seat, I expel you from my mouth. Are you a chair? Are you a sofa? No, you try to be both and are therefore neither. Love seat? No such thing: I name it Chimera.”

“You feel very strongly about that.”

“I’m a man of principle. Jenkins, what about the Chinese market?”

“It will be remarkably tough to gain any foothold in the Chinese market, sir. Regulations and their internet rules would make it almost impossible.”

“No, I meant for lunch. The Chinese market.”

“I could go for dumplings.”

“Excellent. Be sure to remind me about my brilliant couch idea after we eat.”

“I’ll do the right thing, sir.”