Cut to a nondescript office interior somewhere between Arizona and the long-abandoned set department of Working. In walks a gentleman of as-yet-indeterminate age, wearing a dapper black suit and holding a similarly dapper, similarly black briefcase filled with dashed hopes, forgotten ambitions, and, probably, gum. The man -- his hair evoking the pompadour-ish quality of one who walked into the Tempe Supercuts and insisted, "I'll have the 'Keepin' The Faith' video, if you don't mind" -- bids his secretary good morning and always remembers to keep the faith. His Gal Thursday (with a special inaugural Gal Tuesday quality about her this week, for some reason), Grace, smiles and responds, "Good morning, Mr. Prufrock." Grace is played by Melora Walters! Wearing a smart business suit and pearls and funky glasses that don't look entirely unlike mine! I'm sad that she's relegated to the role of hired help here, but any actress who has ever stared down from a movie screen and sung Aimee Mann to me is eternally okay in my book. He asks her how she's doing as she walks in front of a clock that stands at 7:31 AM, and the only appropriate response one should give in an IRS office at such a time is, "Quiet, Mr. Prufrock the money is still sleeeeeping." Agent NotCooper asks if there are any messages (did the money call? No, no, that's right. It's still sleeeeeping), and Grace informs him, "Just one. Your ex-wife. On the voicemail." She plays it for him.
A crowd noise sound effects tape borrowed from the "Hey, J.J.!" section of "C'est La Vie" kicks up in the background, and a slurred voice beamed to earth from Planet Whore purrs, "Hi, James. Listen, honey, I didn't get this month's check, so I was hoping you could send a little bit right now. Maybe, two hundred, three hundred dollars." She continues on that she's at the "Twin Palms Motel" in "Winslow, Arizona," before becoming interrupted by another voice in the phone (J.J. himself, perhaps?). His Gal Not Monica, Phoebe, Or Rachel turns off the voicemail, barely registering her disgust that her super-cool boss's ex-wife is starring in the books-on-tape version of the "College Girls Gone Wild" series. Grace tells him, "You know, I sent the check ten days ago UPS. She signed for it herself." NotCooper half-smiles and repeats, "Winslow, Arizona," half-surprised that one of the towns referenced on this show would be so gauche as to actually exist in the real world. Since my career determined for me that I would be a commuter from New York to Los Angeles three dozen times in the past year, I've driven through Winslow many, many times, each time doing my valuable public service duty of lightening their collective store of Red Vines and Diet Coke. Next time I'll know to stop in and give my regards to J.J. People, it's still 7:31 AM.