Scene: A boardroom. A man sits alone at the head, a stack of papers in front of him. The door bursts open and a smaller man runs in. He’s holding a t-shirt wrapped in its original plastic in one hand.
Dani Alves: Let’s get this done. Quick!
Sandro Rosell: What?
Alves: My contract. I’ve got to get to practice.
Rosell: Oh. 5 million euros a year.
Alves: Right. [picks up a pen and pulls a paper from the top of Rosell’s stack]
Alves: I accept.
Rosell: Wait a moment.
Rosell: We’re supposed to haggle.
Alves: No, no, I’ve got to …
Rosell: What do you mean, no?
Alves: I haven’t time, I’ve got to get …
Rosell: Give it back then. (reaches for paper)
Alves: No, no, I agreed.
(Andoni Zubizarreta appears. He is very big.)
Rosell: This Catalan won’t haggle.
Zubi: Won’t haggle?
Alves: Oh, all right … I mean do we have to …
Rosell: Now I’m offering you 5 a year.
Alves: I accepted.
Rosell: Now are you telling me you’re worth more than 5?
Alves: Oh … I demand 5 and a quarter then.
Rosell: No, no. Do it properly.
Rosell: Haggle properly. You’re worth more than 5 and a quarter.
Alves: You just said I was only worth 5.
Alves: I’ll take 10.
Rosell: That’s more like it.
[becoming outraged] Ten!? Are you trying to insult me? Me? With a poor dying grandmother…Ten!?!
Rosell: Now you’re getting it. Nine!? Did I hear you right? Nine? Your transfer cost me 35. You want to ruin me?
Alves: 5 and a half?
Rosell: No, no, no. You go to 8 and a half now.
Alves: 8 and a half.
Rosell: 8 and a half, are you joking?
Alves: That’s what you told me to say.
Rosell: [registers total despair.]
Alves: Tell me what to say. Please.
Rosell: Offer me 8 and a half.
Alves: I’ll take 8 and a half.
Rosell: (to no one) He’s offering me 8 and a half. For this!
Rosell: 7. My last word. I won’t pay a penny more, or strike me dead.
Alves: 7 and a half.
Rosell: Done. (He grasps Alves’ hand and shakes it.) Nice to do business with you. Tell you what, I’ll take this off your hands well. (He takes the Qatar Foundation shirt from Alves’ hand.) How much? €4?
Alves: I don’t want it, so thank you.
Zubi: (reappearing rapidly) Yes?
Alves: All right! All right! Thank you.
Rosell: That’s four I owe you then. (starts looking for change)
Alves: It’s all right, it doesn’t matter.
Rosell: Hang on.
(Pause as Rosell can’t find change. Alves sees a pair of coaches in the hallway outside the door.)
Alves: It’s all right, that’s four for taking the shirt off my hands– that’s fine!
Rosell: Four for the shirt. Four! Look at it, that’s worth ten if it’s worth a shekel.
Alves: You just offered me 4.
Rosell: Yes, but it’s *worth* ten.
Alves: All right, all right.
Rosell: No, no, no. It’s not worth ten. You’re supposed to argue. “What? Ten for that, you must be mad!”
Alves: (Runs off without the t-shirt)
Rosell: Ah, well there’s one born every minute.
So this is a bit backasswards in terms of the original (which is here), but whatever, you get the point.