Schrute Bucks (Inflation)

Lyrics

Yeah.
Scranton, Pennsylvania.
Under the fluorescent hum.
That smell of the copier, always warm.
February fifteenth, two-thousand-seven.
A new denomination is born.

There's Dwight's face, staring back at you.
Or a beet, if you got the other series.
Printed on cheap green paper.
Says one thousand Schrute Bucks.
Gets you one extra hour of not being here.
An hour of freedom.
Paid for in paper he made by the water cooler.
A motivational tool, he said.
A new economy for the sales floor.

And ain't that the thing.
Schrute Buck inflation.
The joke becomes the asset.
What was worthless is now a line item.
That fictional scrip, that office gag...
Is trading on the open market.
Yeah. Schrute Buck inflation.
Who's laughing now?

Stanley Hudson, stone-faced, not even looking up.
Said 'I'll give you a thousand if you never talk to me again.'
That was its real value.
Not an hour of PTO.
Just a moment of peace.
Jim Halpert probably had a wallet full of 'em.
Just for the bit.
Inside those walls, it was a punchline.
A prop in a long-running play.

And that's the thing, see.
Schrute Buck inflation.
The joke becomes the asset.
What was worthless is now a line item.
That fictional scrip, that office gag...
Is trading on the open market.
Yeah. Schrute Buck inflation.
Who's laughing now?

The lights go out in Scranton.
The cameras are all packed away.
But the printer ink is permanent.
And the story got out.
Now some kid on Etsy, some collector on eBay
Is bidding real American dollars.
For a piece of paper with a beet on it.
For a promise that was never real.
Until we all agreed it was.

Yeah.
Dwight K. Schrute.
Man's a market maker.
Somewhere, he's getting the last laugh.
That beet farm finally turned a real profit.