(Ari mistakes a mail boy for an assistant)
Ari: Well, what is it you’re supposed to know, do you think? What the fuck do we pay you for? To get your agency card laminated so you can go to Shelter and try to fuck Mischa Barton?
Mail boy: I didn’t… I didn’t think…
Ari: Let me tell you something. You don’t have to say anything, you know why? Cause you pick up all your stuff, because you’re mother-fucking fired!