- Good evening.
Tonight, I'd like to interrupt my homework
with this medical warning.
Signs point to an outbreak of the dreaded affliction
experts call E.P.S.,
better known to the layman as "Empty Pockets Syndrome".
It's more deadly than a case of the Venezuelan flu.
Empty Pockets Syndrome strikes innocent teenagers
without warning like a pop quiz from hell.
And there's only one dire symptom,
no money.
What are the vital warning signs of E.P.S.?
Let's take a look at a few case studies.
Take the case of Lawrence T.,
who lived it up and paid the price
at the Spyro Gyros family restaurant.
Last seen, scraping the gum off
every table in the place,
not a pretty picture.
Then there's the case of Suzanne K.,
bought her whole wardrobe on credit.
Fell victim to terminal E.P.S.
and now she's gotta squeegee her way out of debt.
And the big question remains,
what can we do to prevent another case
of E.P.S before it really hits home?
There is the usual route,
allowance, but my dad still calculates money
in dollars.
No bank would give me a loan
and forget about borrowing money from Fergatroyd,
his interest rates are brutal.
No, there's only one sure-fire cure for E.P.S.
I know it sounds terrible,
but if I really want some money,
it's time for me to go out there and...
get a job.
[lively percussive music]
- ♪ Na na na na na
♪ Na na na na na
♪ All right, all right ♪
♪ Na na na na na
♪ Na na na na na na
♪ Way cool
♪ Na na na na na
♪ Na na na na na
♪ All right, all right
♪ Na na na na na
♪ Na na na na na na
♪ Way cool
♪ Na na na na na
♪ Na na na na na
♪ Na na na na na na
♪ Just do it
- No.
No.
Maybe.
Definitely not.
I think it was either Albert Einstein
or Michael Milken who first discovered
that time equals money.
And since I've gotta invest some time in making some money,
I figure the first step in getting a job
is looking for a job.
But these help wanted ads are all written in code.
Like do I really wanna be,
an "acct?"
I don't know if that's an accounting position
or a new rap group.
Then there's, "ft".
Which either means they want me to work full-time
or else change a flat tire.
It's tough to read between the lines
when you don't know what the lines mean.
Hi, Sam.
[twangy guitar chords]
- Hi, Clarissa.
How's the job hunt going?
- Not bad.
Sam, how are you with hieroglyphs?
- Probably rusty, why?
- What's an "assistump auto pup purvoo."
- Let me see that.
Wow.
Either that's written in some kind of weird abbreviation
or it's a help wanted ad for spies.
- Oh, forget it, I'll never get anywhere this way.
- But I know lots of kids with after-school jobs.
Why is it so hard finding one?
- Sam, I'm not just looking for anyjob.
I'm looking forthejob,
the perfect job.
Something that will fulfill all my financial, logistical
and spiritual needs...
on a part-time basis, of course.
- Hmm, I'm surprised you haven't kissed
a lot of frogs yet. [frog croaking]
- What?
- Kissed a lot of frogs. [frog croaking]
- Sam, I'm not about to get some job
in a weird amphibian dating service.
- No, kissing a lot of frogs is my dad's approach
to getting a job.
- But your dad already has a job,
he's a big deal sports writer.
Totally cured of E.P.S.
- Yeah, but he wasn't always that way.
First he got a job as a door-to-door
bungee cord salesman.
Then he got a job at the Highwire Acrobatics Company.
That led to announcing "American Gladiator" matches,
which got him the job on "The Chronicle."
And now, sports writing is the only job for him.
- I get it, try a bunch,
keep the one you like.
Sam, I think it's time for a radical new approach.
Time for operation "kiss a lot of frogs."
[frog croaking]
Let's just hope I don't get a case of wart lips.
[rousing music]
- Ah, there she is, the young, almost-working woman
of the 's.
- Eat a toad, flea-brain.
- Well, your attitude could use a little work.
Still... there is potential.
And where I see potential, I see money.
- Excuse me, Fergwad, but this is a human being's-only zone.
- At least I have a job.
- Yeah, too bad being the most annoying person
on the planet isn't a paying position.
- Nonsense, my job brings in money,
cold hard cash.
Take a look atthis presidential portrait.
- Oh, please, that's a five dollar bill Aunt Dornie
sent you two years ago.
Why don't you spend it already?
- It's a display model.
And there's plenty more where that came from
now that I'm a certified, qualified
job placement analyst.
I could be convinced to help you.
- You wish.
- Simply fill out this questionnaire
and I guarantee job placement within the week.
- And if I don't get the job?
- Then you get to keep the questionnaire.
- Get lost, Fergwad.
- You'll come back.
They all come crawling back.
- Uh, you better run that by me again, Hon.
- Well, I can't say for sure but it looks like our bill
keeps going up when our food consumption stays the same.
Let me see that receipt? - Hmm, here.
Hey, sport, how's the job hunting going?
- I tried to offer my services,
Dad, but she's got what
executives call "attitude."
- Oh. - Hmm, uh, Clarissa?
Look, I bought some more of that ham you like so much.
- Thanks, Dad, but I don't eat ham.
- Well, sure you do. The stuff keeps disappearing.
- Don't look at me, Dad.
You know how I shun all between meal snacks.
- Janet?
- I've haven't been eating any, Marshall.
- Well, if nobody in this family is eating this stuff,
how come we keep buying it and it keeps disappearing?
I mean, I'm not eating it.
- Hey, Clarissa.
[rock music]
♪
- That kid.
- Marshall, I believe his name is Clifford.
- You know, that kid is eating our food.
Now, why-- why does that make me crazy?
- It's your genetic code.
You're a hunter-gatherer, Marshall.
- No, I think it's the food bill, Hon.
- No, Marshall, he just has a very active metabolism.
I remember, once, Joey Russo ate my family's Christmas dinner
and then went out for a slice of pizza.
Don't worry, Clifford will grow out of it.
- Terrific. In the meantime,
I'm on the Clifford Spleenhurfer diet,
"Buy everything you want, don't eat a thing."
Please save me a bagel. - Oh.
I've got the last one right here.
- Oh, I can't keep doing this.
- What's that, Clarissa?
- There's too many factors in finding a job,
even if I do kiss a lot of frogs.
[frog croaking] - Frogs?
- Just metaphoric ones, Mom.
I'm heading down to the library.
Mrs. McDervish said she'd help me get organized.
- Who's Mrs. McDervish? - The librarian.
- Oh. - She's pretty cool.
I never met an -year-old who could wail
on the bass guitar before.
Anyway, she said she'd give me a hand.
I'll be back soon.
- Clarissa, take the human eating machine with you,
will you? - Okay.
Come on, Clifford!
- Okay.
- Are you still hungry, Clifford?
- Nah.
I'll just have a bagel.
- Uh, come on, we'd better go.
- That kid.
- His name is Clifford.
- Uh-huh.
- If you need me, Janet, I'll be in the front yard
gathering nuts and berries for the long winter ahead.
- This is harder than I thought.
Still, I'm majorly organized thanks to Mrs. McDervish.
She even gave me a ride home in her red Corvette convertible.
We went over every employment possibility
from cataloging comic books and blow drying poodles
to filing white fish heads and slapping together
a decent hot dog.
I got out there, I handed out resumes,
I sold myself!
How can I be so bushed when I haven't even started
working yet?
Hi, Sam.
- Hey, Clarissa, guess what?
"Casablanca"'s playing this week
at that cool, old movie theater downtown.
Let's check it out.
- You know, I love the classics, Sam,
but I'm right in the middle of this frog kissing thing.
[frog croaking] - Yeah, so how'd it go?
- I've got one hot prospect.
- What is it? - The b*at and Bongo.
- That new CD store. That would be awesome.
- Yeah, great perks.
Free CDs, two cute guys already work there,
and they pay real money.
- What more could you ask?
- The only downside is, every time I interview there,
I buy a new CD, so so far the job is costing me money.
- Bad strategy.
- Yeah, but I'm not worried.
After all, The b*at and Bongo ranked number one
on the Clarissa index.
- Do you mean, you've got your own index?
- Sort of.
See, working four hours a day, three days a week
at The b*at and Bongo would equal two movies
and a small mall splurge every Saturday.
- Cool, looks like you've got the stuff pretty covered.
- Yeah, but it's still all hypothetical.
I mean, I haven't gotten the job yet.
- You will.
- I hope, they practically promised it to me.
- Well, I've gotta get going.
If you wanna see "Casablanca,"
let me know before it leaves town.
- No problem. - Okay, see you later.
- Bye.
Now all I've gotta do is wait for the phone to ring.
That shouldn't be too hard, should it?
[antsy music]
Stupid phone.
♪
Ring.
Ring, ring!
[phone ringing]
Hello?
Yes?
What?
No, this is not the Kiwanis Club.
This is t*rture!
- Hello, sis.
Mind if I dust a few cobwebs off the family phone unit?
- Back off, Fergwad, I'm using the phone.
- Do you live in a parallel universe
where you use the phone by not talking on it?
- Back off, I'm waiting for The b*at and Bongo to call.
- I advise you pack a couple of magazines
and a sandwich for that wait.
They're not going to call.
- How would you know, slug-face?
- I happened to pass by The b*at and Bongo
on my way home from school.
- It's a half a mile out of the way.
- I took the scenic route for your sake.
And you'll never believe what I saw.
Roman Stancotti behind the counter.
- "Stinky" Roman Stancotti,
the owner's nephew?
- Looks like he's their new cashier.
- Everyone in town was after that job.
- And everyone in town bought a couple of CDs
while filling out an application.
Stunning marketing technique if I do say so myself.
Just remember, sis, my services are still available
so act know while you're still marketable.
- One bit of advice, Fergatroyd.
You better run now while you're still capable!
Could it be I'm totally unemployable?
[phone ringing]
Hello?
Bert's Bait Bucket?
Yes, this is Clarissa Darling.
You what, you will?
Assistant slop attendant?
Okay.
I did it, I got a job.
Okay, so it's cleaning bait but at least it will cure E.P.S.
[doorbell chiming]
Uh, hello?
- Uh, are you Clarissa Darling? - Yeah.
- Well, put 'er there little doggie.
The boss from What A Weenie hot dog shack wants to hire you.
Doreen had a wipeout on a mustard slick, splat!
Should've seen it. So you want the job?
- Uh, but I just told Bert's Bait Bucket--
- Come on, come on, the hot dog business needs you, frankly.
[chuckling] Get it? Frankly...
- Okay, okay, I'll take the job.
- Great, all right, now get your buns down there.
Get it, buns?
[chuckling]
I k*ll me.
Gotta go.
- I don't believe it.
I've gottwojobs.
- Hey, sport, guess what?
Mrs. Budestupon, down at the Precious Poodle Playpen
is looking for some part-time help
and she wants to hire you.
- I've got three jobs.
- Hey, Clarissa, great news.
I heard these two comic book geeks talking
about Planet Fantastic .
They hired you, you got a job.
- Oh, no.
- But I thought you wanted a job.
- Sam, I don't have a job.
I have too many jobs.
How am I ever gonna do them all?
- ♪ Na, na, na-na-na
♪ Na, na-na, na-na
♪ Na, na-na, na-na
- ♪ Na, na, na, na-na
♪
♪ Na-na na-na na-na
- Okay, now that I've made the transition
from completely unemployed to totally over employed,
it's job juggling time.
I mean, it's only been a week but so far, so good.
So far.
Monday means work at Bert's Bait Bucket.
I'm executive assistant in charge of fish heads.
If I play my cards right, I could be promoted to cod.
Tuesday I'm at Planet Fantastic .
And I now actually know the difference
between Squid Man's utility belt
and the Doctor X repulsor ray.
If it's the Precious Poodle Playpen,
it must be Wednesday.
The poodles eat better than I do.
Who says it's a dog's life?
And on Thursday, it's time for me
to strap on the rollerblades and head out
to What A Weenie drive-through hot dog shack.
So that's my week.
Looks great on paper.
I took every job on a trial basis to start out.
And the one that works out, I'll keep.
Plus, on Friday, I get to kick back and relax.
Should be a piece of cake, right?
- Hey, there, sport. - What's up, Dad?
- Oh, I'm just gonna have myself a little snack
of creamy, delicious...
...nothing?
It's gone.
That kid.
- Dad, his name is Clifford?
- Oh, this is like a horror movie, nothing is safe.
You gotta talk to this guy.
- Dad, what do you want me to say?
- I don't know, I mean, it's not that I'm cheap or anything,
you know, it's just that when I'm trying--
It's gone, my toasted almond ice cream pop
that I put in the back.
It's gone.
I mean, what does this kid got, has he got sonar or something?
You have got to stop him before he eats again.
- Okay, okay, I'll try.
- And sport... - Yeah, Dad?
- Make sure you keep your hands and your feet away
from his mouth. - Got it, Dad.
- Oh, time for work.
- Oh, uh, say, sport, listen.
Um... your mother and I, we're very proud
of all these jobs you've been going after.
You know, your work ethic and everything.
- Thanks, Dad. - Yeah.
But just make sure you don't, uh, overdo it, you know,
because there is such a thing as executive burnout.
- Don't worry, Dad.
I don't think I'm executive enough to burnout.
- Yeah, right, well, I was just checking.
Now listen...
I got a candy bar in my sock drawer upstairs,
and I'm gonna go up there right now
and if it's missing, this kid is inbigtrouble.
- Okay, Dad.
Executive burnout?
No way.
Just remember the little engine that could.
I think I can, I think I can,
I think... I'm late!
♪
Where am I supposed to be?
Oh, I forget.
Well, I guess the only way to remember where you're going
is to remember where you've been.
And this week, I've been all over the place.
[sailor music]
- Clarissa, honey, you're late for dinner.
- Work was a little harder than I thought, Mom.
- Oh. - I'm not that hungry.
By the way, do I smell like halibut to you?
[sniffing]
- [sniffing]
Clarissa, honey, you're late for dinner.
- Too tired to eat, Mom.
We put a new batch of "Microman" up for sale today.
Boy, those comic book geeks are vicious.
- Clarissa, honey, dinner?
- What time is it?
What day is it?
Oh, sorry, Mom.
I've seen one too many bacon biscuit treats
to eat right now.
And how do I get all this dog hair off me?
[screaming]
[crashing]
Okay.
According to my schedule, I can sleep now for approximately...
[ladder clangs]
Hi, Sam.
- Hey, bud, catch you at a bad time?
- No, this is fine.
I was just catching up on my sleep deprivation experiment.
- Well, it's Friday, you're free, right?
- Free?
- "Casablanca," remember?
- Sure, sure, I remember.
Sam, what do I remember?
- You said by Friday you could kick back and relax.
- Oh, sure, right.
Just let me get my shoes on and we'll party all night.
- Clarissa, I thought you said that you got all these jobs
to improve your lifestyle.
Now you haven't got a life.
Maybe you better slow down.
- Normally, I would, Sam, but I can't.
See, I've just been offered double shifts.
- Double shifts, on which job?
- Does the phrase "all of them" mean anything to you?
- Clarissa, you're already b*rned out.
- Sam, if I can take the heat for just one more month,
look at what I can get.
[drum roll]
- Whoa, a car!
- Clarissa index says one more month of hard labor,
and I've earned the first down payment.
- You know, you might even be able to afford
a top of the line straitjacket when all this work
drives you crazy.
Catch you later.
- See you, Sam.
All right.
Now all I have to do is get back to work.
Again and again...
[upbeat covert music]
♪
- Hm.
Wait a minute, now everything is here.
- Of course everything's there, Dad.
I took care of your little problem by k*lling two birds
with one stone.
- Oh, yeah, have you-- You mean that kid.
- Dad, his name is Clifford.
I enrolled him in the Ferguson Darling
job placement program.
I matched his talents with his abilities and interests,
skimmed a little off the top and presto,
Clifford Spleenhurfer is now gainfully employed
delivering groceries far, far from your kitchen.
- Hey, that's great, Ferguson.
- Dad, here's my bill.
- What's this for?
- Well, Dad, I believe you have a vested interest
in Clifford's employment.
Besides, you can't expect him to pay me
before his first paycheck arrives.
- Oh, Ferguson, yeah.
I'm not paying this.
- Great, Dad.
Way to teach me a lesson in personal ethics.
- Has anyone seen Clarissa?
She was supposed to be at Bert's Bait Bucket at :.
- Well, that's strange, I just saw her down at
the Precious Poodle Playpen.
- Impossible, I was just heckling--I mean,
supporting her at the What A Weenie drive-through.
- Well, then where is she?
- Okay, so
I got a little confused. - Oh.
- Sport, what happened?
- Hard to say.
Last thing I remember
I was trimming Mrs. Corntrotter's Yorkie.
- The pooch has a mohawk now.
- Well, she needed a new look.
- Well, it's not the end of the world, sweetheart.
- It's not the end of the story, either.
See, these three poodles went nuts after feasting
on a leftover bag of fish heads from Bert's Bait Bucket.
- That's gross.
- It's not as gross as the wads of dog hair that fouled up
the cash register at Planet Fantastic .
Plus, they just back ordered issues of "My Little Pony"
instead of "The Pulverizer."
- No one will notice.
- Clarissa, are you all right?
- Yeah, sure, Mom, I'm fine.
There's just one little thing.
- Um-hmm?
- I got fired. - Oh, from which job?
- Does the phrase "all of them"
mean anything to you?
- Oh, Clarissa.
- I don't believe it. - Ah, yeah, this is
what happens when you get over extended--
- No, no, no, I mean, I don't believe
I didn't think of it sooner.
The Ferguson Darling Unemployment Counseling Center.
Thanks, sis, and thanks for being a loser.
I gotta get to work.
- Clarissa, I'm gonna draw you a nice, hot bath, okay?
- Yeah, you stay right there, sport.
I'm gonna go get that, that heat pad thing that I use
and it's guaranteed to take all your aches away, okay?
- Thanks, Dad. - All right.
- But now for the really good part.
Not even getting canned can take the thrill
out of payday, payday, payday, payday.
- Oh, Clarissa, I hate to tell you,
but Mrs. Budestupon from the Precious Poodle Playpen
told me to give you this.
- It's a bill.
I'm being charged with dog hair cleanup,
dietary readjustment fees and emotional stress?
Yikes!
- And here's a bill from Bert's Bait Bucket
for a gross of flounder heads? - Great.
- And here's a bill from Planet Fantastic
for dog hair removal fees,
plus customer relations damage costs.
- Terrific.
- And here's a bill from What A Weenie--
- Oh, Sam, don't even bother.
I get the picture.
So long first pay check.
We hardly got to spend ye.
- Clarissa, you owe the same amount you got paid.
- Not quite, there's still five dollars left.
- Which reminds me.
- Your five dollar loan for the rollerblades, right?
Great, now I'm back where I started...
terminal victim of E.P.S.
[phone ringing]
Hello?
Yes?
Oh, hi, Mrs. McDervish.
You know, I don't think I'll be needing your job consulting
anymore, I'm--
What?
What?!
Could you turn the reggae down just a bit?
Oh, that's better.
You heard?
You what?
That's great!
Okay, okay.
Okay, I'll see you there.
- Did something good just happen
or are you experience another psychotic mood shift?
- I've got a job.
- Not again. - It's okay, Sam.
Mrs. McDervish just hired me as her research assistant
at the public library.
It may not make me fabulously wealthy, but hey, it's a job.
Now, let's see.
If I work three hours a day,
four days a week, I can still--
- Clarissa.
- Don't worry, Sam, it's the library.
How much trouble can I get into?
- So how was the first day on the job, Clarissa?
- Not bad.
It's amazing how calm, peaceful and quiet a library can be.
- I tried to help out the working man
and what does he do? s*ab you in the back.
- I can't believe anyone would s*ab you in the back
when they could just hit you over the head
with a frying pan.
- Clifford Spleenhurfer is planning to sue me
just because he got himself fired.
- Fired?
You mean that kid's on the lose again?
Oh, that means no sandwich is safe.
- You didn't tell me that I could get canned
just for eating the groceries
instead of delivering them.
I want justice!
- Um, uh, how about some egg salad instead?
- Okay.
- Oh, not again, Clarissa.
- Sorry, Dad, I'd like to help you but it's just not my job.
- ♪ Na, na, na-na
♪ Na-na-na, na-na
♪ Na, na, na-na-na
♪ Na-na-na, na-na
♪ Na, na, na-na
♪ Na, na, na-na-na
♪ Na-na-na, na-na
03x05 - Punch The Clocks
Watch/Buy Amazon Merchandise
Clarissa Darling is a teenager who addresses the audience directly to explain the things that are happening in her life, dealing with typical adolescent concerns such as school, boys, pimples, wearing her first training bra, and an annoying younger brother.
Clarissa Darling is a teenager who addresses the audience directly to explain the things that are happening in her life, dealing with typical adolescent concerns such as school, boys, pimples, wearing her first training bra, and an annoying younger brother.