Schrute Bucks (Per Lunch)

Lyrics

Fluorescent hum.
Smell of stale coffee and ambition.
November Sixteenth. Oh-six.
A new god is born in Scranton.

Assistant TO the Regional Manager.
Got that fire in his eyes. Mustard yellow shirt.
Pounds the desk. Unfurls the plan.
Says he's gonna fix our motivation problem.
Gonna make us work for something real.
And he holds up this... this piece of paper.
His face on it. Looks like play money from a board game about beet farming.

It’s the Schrute Buck, baby.
Don't you spend it all in one place.
A thousand of 'em gets you five more minutes
to eat your sad little sandwich.
Yeah, the Schrute Buck, honey.
Feel that economic grace.
He prints the money, he makes the rules.
Welcome to Dwight's little nation-state.

Stanley doesn't even look up from his crossword.
Just sighs. A man who's seen it all.
Seen a dozen Michaels. A hundred Dwights.
He says, "What's the ratio...
of Stanley Nickels to Schrute Bucks?"
And Dwight, he doesn't miss a beat.
Perfect smile. Dead serious.
"The same ratio," he says, "of unicorns to leprechauns."

It’s the Schrute Buck, baby.
Don't you spend it all in one place.
A thousand of 'em gets you five more minutes
to stare out the damn window.
Yeah, the Schrute Buck, honey.
Feel that economic grace.
He prints the money, he makes the rules.
Welcome to his sad little paper chase.

And you laugh, right?
You think it's just a joke on a TV show.
But what about your company scrip?
Your "fun bucks" for the holiday party?
Your loyalty points? Your gold stars on a chart?
It's all unicorns.
It's all leprechauns.
Just some guy in a mustard shirt telling you what your time is worth.
And we nod. And we collect it.

Unicorns to leprechauns.
A thousand gets you five.
Unicorns... to leprechauns.
What's in *your* wallet?