AUTHOR NOTES: If you look really closely at the beginning of Part 1, you can see George has a band-aid on his left thumb. More than likely, Crispin Glover had been wearing it for something similar when filming was taking place, but nobody cared and/or didn't notice. However, I made up an explanation for how "George" got it.

7:30 AM.

George left the house and jumped into his white, already semi beat-up and noisy 1977 Plymouth Reliant. He was still afraid of Lorraine getting mad. Trying the engine twice before it kicked over, and rather loudly, he hastily left Lyon Estates and turned west onto what would become Route 395.

He had only about a 15-minute drive into the neighboring town of Grass Valley to his work, 8 miles away. As luck would have it, after making it through the town part of Hill Valley, he was backed up in a rush of morning traffic. It wasn't that much, but since the road was only two-lanes, it was at a crawl. He turned on the radio almost immediately, and listened to an audiotape of a Marx Brothers radio show.

George was intently listening. About 4 miles from his house, just past the other side of downtown Hill Valley, he got carried away in the tape. As traffic picked up a little, he started laughing hysterically and accidentally swerved into the oncoming lane of traffic. Suddenly he looked up to hear a loud horn honking, and a big Hippie-style Volkswagen van drive by. George jerked back into his lane at light speed, narrowly avoiding a possible head-on collision.

As the van drove by, pulling back in from running onto the emergency lane, the man slowed down just enough to yell, "Watch where you're going, blind slacker! I have to get to school to hand out discipline!"

Even though he knew Marty's vice-principal wouldn't hear, he said, "I'm sorry I, wasn't looking."

Soon, traffic again slowed to a dead stop. Hoping to get more work done, George got out his reports and started copying some more things down. Because he was writing in the car, it wasn't really neat. He knew Biff would want them immediately. Sure he might be annoyed if they were sloppily written, but he'd be madder if they weren't done at all. Within five minutes, he was able to complete one more page. He would save the big handwriting for the office.

A few minutes after 8 A.M., he pulled into the parking lot at Hill County Bank & Trust, where he and Biff both worked as loan officers. Just after George made it inside, Biff himself got out of the passenger seat of an approaching car.

"Hey, thanks for the ride, 3-D. I'll meet you at your house tonight."

His old high school gang-member and friend said "Oh yeah, Biff. Bring a 12-pack too, the guys are all gonna be there!"

"Yeah, man, I'll sneak out before that craphead can say anything," he said, referring to his boss and laughed as he walked inside. When he opened the door, everyone stayed out of his way, except for a few general "Mornin' Biff" greetings. He went up to George, who, by now, was at his desk.

"Hey, McFly."

"Oh, hey there Biff, I didn't see you. How are you doing?"

"Fine. Listen, boss is getting on everybody's case lately, including mine. Remember that company meeting at 9:00?"

George had almost forgot after everything that happened that morning. "The meeting? Oh, yeah, about finances and all that. I remembered Biff, I just don't know if I'm ready for that yet. He seems like he's been upset at everyone lately."

Biff did somewhat agree. "Yeah, McFly. I never like meetings. We know he's gonna find something else wrong that we're all doing and make some smartass comments to everyone. By the way, what about those reports I gave you last night?"

"Uh, yeah, I've got them here with me, I looked them over in the car too. Those are a lot of figures on there, but I can recopy them."

Apparently they were still good enough, since it was mostly numbers. Biff changed the subject. "Tell me, how's the wife now, McFly?"

"Not so good, Biff, but, uh, Joey might be out of jail tonight, but she's angry becaue no one wants him to stay at the house. I suppose he's okay, but I was never his best friend or anything like that."

After belching at an ungodly volume (and earning him a few dirty looks), Biff's voice deepened, "Jailbird Joey I like to call him. Lorraine still fawns over him just cause he's her ba-by bro-ther," heavily emphasizing sarcasm and imitation of her voice on the last two words.

George weakly muttered "Yep" to himself as Biff talked. He habitually did this just to show him he was still listening. "She's always felt that way about him, maybe it's a mothering thing. He was just a little baby when we were all seniors in high school."

"He's a loser, that's all there is to it," Biff said as he simultaneously went over to his desk. A minute or two later, he brought out a big box and putting it at the foot of George's office. "McFly, copy these for me. I don't need that butthead riding me and everybody needs them."

Sitting near him was a cardboard box that must have weighed 50 pounds, literally filled with papers and other office supplies Biff had. George didn't particularly want to, but said, "Okay, Biff, I'll get as much of this done before the meeting as possible."

A less patient person might've been tempted to pick the box up and throw it at Biff's head after all he'd make George do, but the skinny man simply put all that aside. Lifting the bulky box easier than his small stature would lead you to believe, he went out of the main area and down a hallway where the break room was. Inside sat the large black & white copy machine.

Lightly sighing to himself, he set the box down and opened the lid. After spending over half an hour at the task, it was almost finished. Just as he lifted the copy machine's lid to put another paper in, he glanced over at the room's clock. Seeing it indicated the time was 9:01, he instinctively jerked the paper back with his right hand, where it rubbed a little too close to his left thumb.

"Aaah!" he said at a mildly loud volume, grabbing a paper towel with his other hand. It took him a minute or so to find a band-aid to put on the small papercut he'd accidentally given himself. Knowing he was already running slightly late, he left the box as it was, hoping Biff wouldn't notice until he could get to it later.

As soon as he got back into the main area of the bank (now in a slight run), president James Strickland - younger brother of Hill Valley High's vice principal, Gerald - called the meeting on with several employees. He opened the door of his office and proclaimed, "Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for our company conference! You knew about it, everybody pile into the conference room now." As he could see people were hurrying in, he continued. "Don't be tardy either, drop everything you're doing. That means you, Mr. Tannen," he said, pointing. After a pause, he continued, "and especially you, Mr. McFly."

Before it started and as everyone began to sit down, the 64-year-old man took a sip of coffee before spitting it out into the garbage can. "What the hell is this? This coffee is cold, damn it!" He looked at George and said "McFly, since some loser doesn't know how to maintain a simple machine, go get me a good cup of decaf from the store across the street, would you?"

It was enough to have Biff tell him what to do, but two people at the same time would be enough to drive anyone crazy. He laughed as he tried a slight protest by another suggestion. "Well, sir, maybe it just got cold because it, uh, was sitting there for a long time. The machine should be okay, what if you just tried that again?"

The boss was getting madder. "Arguing with your boss, that's pretty nervy. Do you want me to take money out of your next paycheck? If not, than I suggest you go to the Circle K, Mr. McFly."

George just said his usual statement. "Okay, I'll come back in a few minutes. And, I know you don't want cream either."

Most other employees ignored this incident, or frowned to themselves. They were all too used to both the bank President, and Biff being bullies and getting angry with people. Strickland then said, "Losers, just look over your reports and think about your work performance, before I decide for you. As soon as McFly gets back with my caffeine, we will begin our meeting!"

After a few minutes, George came back with a 30-ounce container. "Here you go sir, I checked it before I left, it's hot just like you want it."

"Thank you, McFly, now we shall begin the meeting."

Once behind closed doors, Strickland began going over a few business topics. "We're talking about finances first. As many of you know, the economy is in a recession, thanks to our Republican president Reagan. Because of this, our customers will be-"

Biff tried to interject when the rigid boss was talking. Biff loved to annoy him by doing this. It reminded him so much of annoying his brother from his teen years at school.

"Yes Mr. Tannen, what do you have to say now that's so important you interrupted my speech?"

In a sarcastic voice, Biff said the obvious. "Well, sir, let me understand what you're saying. People will be more careful with their money now because of the recession. Of course they're gonna watch it 'cause they don't have as much to watch, right?"

Strickland's face turned angry. He quickly dropped the papers in his hand, almost throwing them on his executive chair. He ran up toward Biff. "Always a smart mouth, Tannen! You're middle-aged, but you're just like you were in high school. My brother told me about it, because he deals with losers like you, your kids, and Mr. McFly's kids all day too! Just one thing, why do you say anything in these meetings if you don't plan on helping out?"

Than, in almost a nod to teen party slacker Jeff Spicoli from Fast Times At Ridgemont High, Biff said, "I don't know."

At that, his boss got red faced, almost yelling at Biff in front of his co-workers. "I can't believe I make special privileges for you and let you come into a professional environment wearing those ugly plaid pants and that green suit that looks like the color of my brother's hippie van."

Biff tried to shut him up, even though he was beginning to get mad. "Hey, I usually don't wear this to work. But, my other stuff is in the dirty clothes basket, and if I wore my good clothes as they are, you'd be madder." Now, laughing again, he asked, "Or, would you rather I came in PJ's?"

"I just said the clothes can stay, even if they're secondhand material, but I have a feeling you've been here intoxicated here too with dumb comebacks like that. I've been second-guessing your supervisor position. Just watch it, because one day you'll be caught, I'll demote you and have you right where I want you, as a bank teller!" Turning away and pausing, he let his last bit of steam out. "Loser!"

Biff got a look of disgust and anger in his face, the common stress making him look older than some of his peers. Strickland calmed down slightly before turning to George. "What do you think of the money situation, and what we should do, McFly?"

George didn't like business meetings and never knew the right thing to say. "I'm not sure, Mr. Strickland. Maybe we could raise interest rates on people's savings accounts. Than they might pick us over, like something else, uh, like Bank Of America," he improvised.

"Interest rates, McFly? That's better than nothing and it might work for now, but it's no long-term solution. You always give the easiest answer to everything, don't you?" He than said, "Right now, our new tellers make almost as much as you do. Some of them are young enough to be in your children's age range. Come up with something better or you'll be working below them."

George just muttered, "Yes sir, I'll do my best."

Yep. This was gonna be a long day indeed.