The Plan (El plan)

Did you know that in the Middle Ages

they thought that the centre of intellectual operations

was in the heart?

Then, later on,

when they continued investigating,

they realised it wasn't.

But rather that the soft mass we have inside our heads,

the brain,

is the captain of the whole ship.

Today, we think we know it all.

But I don't think that's true.

There are many mysteries of the mind that are still hidden.

There are lots of things that haven't been studied yet.

You ask yourself questions, but there isn't always an answer.

THE PLAN

Yes...

Yes, damn it, I'm coming.

- It's me. - I know it's you.

Do you know what time it is? - Yes, Paco. It's 09:05.

Exactly, you're late.

Where are you going now? - To freshen up a bit.

Ramón, what are you doing? Has Andrade messaged?

I don't know, Paco. I haven't got my phone.

Yet another idiot who'll turn up late.

I had to take the kids to school.

Come on, I was only five minutes late.

So, you were late.

You don't know what it's like to have a bad taste in your mouth all day.

What do you want me to say?

- That having kids is hard work. - Having kids is hard work. Happy?

- Yes. - Good.

You still have the suit.

Yeah, if those bastards want it, they can come collect it.

- Call Andrade, Paco. - Bloody hell, Andrade.

If he's not here by 9:30, sod him.

I'm going to have to use some of my credit to get him here.

Andrade, where the hell are you?

What do you mean ten minutes? You're supposed to be here already.

What are you playing at?

Hey!

And he hangs up.

When is this photo from, Paco?

What are you doing?

Is that you?

- Ten minutes, he said, the scumbag. - Don't worry, Paco. Relax.

I can't relax, Ramón.

Have you ever asked yourself why we're unemployed?

What do you think?

I ask myself every day.

Well, it could be

because, in our subconscious,

we reject the concept of work.

It could be, pal,

that we like to be, or to feel like,

victims of the society we live in.

In our subconscious, of course.

Victimhood gives us an identity,

and we're not prepared to give that up.

And, in this case, our disease,

because it turns out that victimhood can be a disease,

like the mumps, measles, and all those.

In this case, our disease, in the form of a feeling of inferiority,

gives us an identity.

Get what I'm saying?

Where did you get that from?

From a psychology book.

It helps me, you know?

I read magazines and books.

You learn things.

Books are good for that, yeah.

I always wanted to be a psychologist.

You?

Look, in some way,

we're becoming comfortable

in our role as those mistreated by capitalism.

And, little by little, we're filling...

Shit, Paco, I've won a prize!

"Another packet of seeds."

"Claim it from your shop."

Psychology is doing you the world of good, Ramón.

We need to go deeper into the subconscious.

Yes, yes. That'll be it.

Do you know Freud?

Listen, I read that this man

searched in his patients' subconscious

or rather, in their heads, in order to... - Do you know Fran, from human resources?

I can almost see him now:

"Paco, between you and me,

they only way to avoid lay-offs is to lower salaries".

And me: "What are you saying? I'm not going to ask my colleagues...".

"Yes, mate, it's between us. Don't worry.

It's just temporary, we'll relaunch in no time.

We've come up with a plan so that you can keep your jobs.

It's just a small reduction."

"How much lower do you want me to go, son of a bitch?

When you only pay me a shitty 900 euros

to waste 12 hours of my day sat in a fucking hut.

What more do you want?".

But what did we do? What did we do?

We bent over and took it. Of course! Come on, for management!

Again and again and again... until they fired us.

All of us.

Psychology books...

Do you want to see what it's like to be bent over?

Do you want to see what it's like to be fucking bent over?

Paco!

Twenty euros.

They paid me twenty fucking euros to hand out flyers all morning.

The photo you saw was from the trial day.

I even had to do a goddamn trial to wear this!

The campaign lasted two days and, at the end, they asked

if I wanted the costume, as they were throwing it out.

Do you know what I did?

I said: "Give it here. I'll keep it".

I'll sell it on Wallapop or something.

Shit, Paco, mate. I just wanted to say...

We need to heal - Don't start talking about healing.

Do you know what I really need?

I need to win. That's what I need.

And today is the day.

And I won't let anyone ruin it or get in my way.

Whatever it costs or whoever I have to bump off,

even that moron Andrade, who I'm sure will cock things up.

So, please, give your psychology crap a rest!

Throw the suit away, Paco.

Fuck, man.

What's most shocking about the mysteries of the mind is that they're infinite.

I mean, the soft mass,

weighing only 2% of our body,

consumes 20% of our energy.

But, what's going on in there?

Neural connections, impulses, all that, yes.

But how does that translate into behaviour,

the being, the self?

That's still not clear.

- Where's the seed prize? - I won it, Paco.

- Weren't the seeds mine? Give it to me. - Fuck.

Mate!

I'm also at bursting point, eh?

I argued with Manoli this morning.

It's bad, huh?

In front of the kids. That's the worst bit.

She didn't think today was a good idea, you know?

I didn't want to hide it from her. I told her where I was going.

I could've said I had an interview or a meeting at the job centre.

I'm tired of hiding things from her.

Me too.

I've not said anything to Laura.

- I need to tell you something. - Of course.

- Shit! - Fuck!

Sorry, mate. There's not that many.

Do you know how hard this is to clean?

Paco, I need a beer.

You can't drink a beer now. It's nine in the morning.

It's twenty past, Paco.

- Andrade? - Open up, I'm coming up.

- No, we're coming down. - Paco!

Come on, Ramón. Let's move!

What are you doing?

- For the walk. - Let's go now!

- Aren't you going to answer? - No, he drives me mad.

Close the door when you leave.

Come on. Ramón!

Let's go! - Coming.

Fuck, man, your obsession for not using the lift!

It's a warm up.

Weren't you listening to me? My car's fucked.

- What? - I've called for recovery.

It started smoking and it wouldn't start.

- What colour was it? - What?

- The smoke. - White.

- That's the gasket. - What the hell?

White smoke out of the exhaust means water has mixed with oil.

The head gasket. - The head of my cock!

- Good morning. - Good morning!

- Fuck your mother and the plan! - Paco!

Do you mind, dear?

Something had to happen.

The head gasket's gone, how's that my fault?

- It's not. - Right.

- What do we do now? - I don't know.

You never know anything, do you?

Let's call Emilio. Perhaps he can delay things

and they can wait for us. - Let me think.

- Paco, what about your car? - It's in the garage. A service.

- Perhaps it's done. - It's miles away, damn it.

We'll take a taxi. - Do you know how much a taxi costs?

Let's take the bus. - We can't go on the bus, retard.

Why don't you call Emilio? Aren't you friends? He can pick us up.

I have to wait for the recovery truck. I can't leave it there.

For fuck's sake! I'm not going back up. I'm going on the metro.

Paco, call Emilio.

- Come on. Call Emilio, Paco. - Andrade can call him.

- I've got no credit. - Bloody hell!

- What? - You can't live like that.

It ran out when I called recovery. I'm waiting for them to call me.

"It ran out..." My patience is running out.

I can't do any more, Paco. You can do what you want.

Your breath smells.

- I had two coffees. - Well, keep quiet until we get there.