Jim Halpert and his coworkers play a competitive game of Call of Duty at work.
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At the Stamford branch, they all play this World War II video game called Call of Duty. And they're all really into it. I'm told it started as a team building exercise. Unfortunately, I really suck at it. Oh. We didn't play many video games in Scranton. Instead, we do stuff like, um, Pam and I would sometimes hum the same high-pitched note and try to get Dwight to make an appointment with an ear doctor. And, uh, Pam called it Pretendanitis. Be a big help to your company. Okay, see you next week. Bye. Again? Scared? Call of Duty. Andy, Jim, can I see you in the conference room for a minute? Now? Yes, now. Put the game on hold everyone. This is not working, okay? We are getting slaughtered out there. It's the new guy. I'm- I'm sorry, I don't know what we're talking about. So, then? We just need a strategy, okay? We're going to set up a trap in the gun room. All right? Jim, are you using the MP40 or the 44? Um, sniper rifle. A snipe what? Jim, are you playing other teams? You don't snipe in Carrington, okay? It's Saboteur! Saboteur! It's not- I'm going to kill you for real. Okay, the game is over. I'm really going to shoot you. Call of Duty is. And he's trying to shoot with a smoke grenade. I'm sorry, what are you whispering? Nothing, I'm just concentrating on turning around. I'm trying. I just- Just tap S then D. Oh. Any last words? No? What? You killed Jim Halpert. Wow. It's like, oh, bad.
