Elaine, did you make this hummus?
It’s really good.
Okay, but I didn’t make it.
David, did you make this hummus?
Well, who did?
I don’t know.
I just want to compliment the person who made the hummus, but no one will tell me who made it.
I wish I could tell you who made it so you’d shut up about it.
I’ll shut up about it when I get some answers.
Hey, Eric, did you make this hummus? It’s delicious.
No, I didn’t make it either, and why do you have to compliment the person who made it? Can’t you just eat it and move on?
Because last year when I came to this office party, I made a spinach artichoke dip and no one said shit to me about it. Someone should have said something. Do you remember that dip I made?
No, it was a long time ago. I’ve probably eaten thirty or forty dips since then, so I don’t remember your stupid dip.
Exactly. People forget dips and the people who made them. We need to talk about the elephant in the room while there’s still time.
Well, like I said, I didn’t make it. I don’t even know what hummus is.
It’s chickpeas and tahini and garlic and lemon and olive oil.
Are you sure you didn’t make it because you sound like you know a real shitload about hummus? And you’re using “elephant in the room” wrong.
No, I didn’t make it. That’s why I’m trying to figure out who did. If I made it, I would have just nodded into the mirror over there to let myself know that I did a good job, and I would have been discreet about it like there wasn’t some big elephant in the room.
Well, I didn’t make it. I despise you.
Tanya, did you make this hummus or not?
You heard me, unless you’ve got hummus in your ears.
I didn’t make the hummus. Please stop looking in my ears.
I’m checking for hummus.
I don’t care what you’re checking for, just stop.
Fine, I stopped.
Ask Gerald if he made it. He loves to cook. I hate your guts.
Hey Gerald, did you make this hummus? If so, I’m about to compliment you about it.
No, I didn’t, but I could still use a compliment. I’m feeling kind of down.
I can’t switch gears to other types of compliments right now. I’ve got this big hummus one in the chamber, and once I fire that off, I’ll come back around and compliment you about something else, like your shirt or something.
You like my shirt?
I told you I’m not ready. But no, not really.
I think you’ve asked everyone at this office party except Jen. She’s in the bathroom.
Can you get this note to Jen?
I don’t feel comfortable doing that, but if it gets you to shut up, then I’ll do it. I don’t like you as a person.
I got the note you had delivered to me in the bathroom, the one about the hummus.
Well Jen, let’s cut to the chase. Did you make it?
No, I didn’t make it, and I don’t like having notes delivered to me while I’m going to the bathroom.
I wasn’t the one who decided to disappear right in the middle of this whole hummus thing.
I didn’t make it. I wish you’d die already.
Wish all you want, but I’m as healthy as a horse.
I made it, okay? Just stop. I made it.
Who said that?
Me. I’m Lauren. I work in public relations on seven.
If it’s true that you made the hummus, Lauren, then why are you just saying something now? Did you see what I’ve been going through?
Yeah, I saw it. I saw everything.
I’m sorry, but every fiber of my being is telling me you didn’t make this hummus.
I made it. I just didn’t want to say anything.
Because it’s not hummus, it’s baba ghanoush. It’s a completely different dip with similar Middle Eastern roots.
This is baba ghanoush?
I think so. And the more you kept saying hummus, the less I wanted to admit I made it, because I made it wrong.
See, now I ruined the whole party.
You didn’t ruin it.
But I made it wrong.
I don’t care. I think it’s delicious.
You’re a decent man.
So decent that I need to tell you something.
I lied about making it.
I’m so mad right now.
I bought it at Stop & Shop, and I was embarrassed because I didn’t read the label. It probably said “baba ghanoush,” but I didn’t read it, because I can’t read. Then I put it in a bowl from my house. Everyone else made something homemade. I felt like shit.
You lie so much.
I know. It’s bad.
Do you even work in PR?
Yes, but not on seven. I’m on six.
You lied about the floor?
Is your name even Lauren?
I’m firing both of you, and I can totally do that, because I’m your boss.
You’re firing me and the woman who calls herself “Lauren”?
That’s right. You’re fired because we all hate your guts. Lauren’s fired because she just admitted she can’t read, which is bad for working.
Well, that’s just fine with me and Lauren, because we’re heading to Stop & Shop anyway to find out who made this baba ghanoush. Now we’ll just stay there until they give us jobs. Right, Lauren?
I wouldn’t say it’s fine, but I do like the idea of getting a new job so quickly.
Great, let’s high-five to show everyone how fine it is.
Okay, give me a second to get my hand ready, I don’t do a lot of these.