In this week's task, lots of sick old people and lots of sick young people are introduced to magical devices previously only imagined by Leonardo Da Vinci or H.G. Wells, such as TiVo, workout pulse meters, and the X-Box. It's like Alias up in here. The credibility, she strains! Calculator watches for everybody!
So the "Something Old" is, I guess, Randal's dead grandmother, who obscurely chooses him as this week's PM. The boys geek out almost as hardcore as they did last week at the prospect of getting to buy, and then play with, all the high-tech gadgets and gizmos; their task is to hold a "tech expo" at a living facility for seniors. Not to mention getting to explain and explain unending tech minutia to a captive and infirm audience. (Yes, Markus excels at this, of course. On an unrelated note, I still miss Chris.) Team Excel really super very much pulls together this week, although they've singled out Clay as their new whipping boy, for which I can't blame them. They win by a 2% margin, mostly because George likes their cookies and Trump likes their balloons, and in keeping with the theme of this season, their reward is more fucking community service, this time playing Corporate Armani Claus at a children's hospital where Itsy-Bitsy Brian dazzles as the sexiest elf in history.
Rebecca is chosen for the Capital Edge PM by "Something New": her broken ankle, a nominatrix no more confounding than Randal's grandmother. After last week, when the women got about 30% of the airtime (is that the norm on this show, to trade off week by week? Makes sense), they fully take over the show, and the results areâ¦ugly, in their own way, as the Excel bullshit from last week. Mostly due to Jennifer W. (I think) setting up an "expo" that looks more like what's left after a nuclear blast, standing around giggling like a retard the whole time, and misspelling the word "techno."
Toral can't operate a television in any way, but she's a banker of some kind; Jennifer W. (I think) gets reamed for fucking up the "event planning" part of the task, but Toral is a banker of some kind; Marshawn apparently has invisibility and awesomeness as her main mutant powers, while Toral is a banker of some kind; Alla bristles at Rebecca's admittedly hardcore approach to management, and she and Kristi go a little too far with the bitterness, but at least Toral's a banker of some kind; all work and no play makes Toral a banker of some kind, and Jennifer M. flirts brilliantly and cutely with tiny old men, has sexy I Dream Of Jeannie hair, and gets dragged into the boardroom for no reason whatsoever instead of Toral, who I think might be some kind of banker.
Rebecca's "Something Borrowed" is, apparently, the brass balls of Mr. Donald Trump himself, as she harshly takes George, Trump, and anyone else in her line of sight (excepting Carolyn, thank God) to task forâ¦whatever she feels like. Whatever's on her mind at the time. The reputation of the Wharton School, the Merriam's def of the word "inflexible," what makes a cookie taste so deliciously goodâ¦whatever. It's amazing, if you like that kind of thing, and I do, but I get that you might not. Trump's with me, in the end: either she's the J.P. Morgan, or the clock tower sniper dressed as a clown, and only time will tell. I thought prescription medications made you groovy and fun! Yet another thing Will & Grace lied to me about.
"Something Blue" isâ¦me, mourning my hatred of Markus, because he's tolerable-to-awesome in this episode. He even gets his propers from the team, which made my aggressively and famously fickle heart sing. Blame the Constantine comparison from last week if you will. My love for Rebecca leapfrogs right over my quickly-waning interest in Mutinous Kristi, my ultimate allegiance to Josh is unchallenged, and Toral stops being cute and starts getting real. Annoying, that is. (Plus a real live corporate banker.) Ultimately, it's Jennifer W. (I think) who is sent packing, and whining, into the night.
Last week, Donald Trump kept saying "Lam-Boar-Gini" and it was weird. Then the women won a sucky prize, and Toral spent some time with Rebecca's ankle. Chris left, and it was sad but also inevitable and self-inflicted, like in a Scottish play. Apprentice: Martha was a vastly more enjoyable show, and I wish we could trade somebody for Jim, because Keckler will never love him like I do.
A sax player down on the street treats us to a sad Markus-esque tune as the Excel suite door opens. Effin' Mark explains that "Chris and Markus was [sic] in the Boardroom," and opines that there's no question that Markus is the weakest link in the Team Excel chain, and should be fired. Say what I will about Markus -- and I will -- but at least he's not all Deliverance all the time. God. So Markus walks in and everybody wigs; there's a few seconds of stunned silence and then the slow clap starts. Josh tells the team -- specifically Markus, who he just totally crapped on in front of Donald Trump -- to leave the Boardroom in the Boardroom, and just start over. It's a good idea, but somewhat disingenuous of Josh to just baldly ask him, "Hey, all that stuff where I said you were worthless and a dork and a waste of flesh? In front of Trump and his Viceroys, for whose approval you regularly piss your literal pants? Let's pretend I didn't say that, okay?"
On the other hand, it's Markus, so this kind of boneheaded thing works like a charm, because he doesn't know better. Markus interviews that he's a survivor, and acts like he's totally aware of his issues and problems and it'll be a snap to change only like every single thing about himself. This is also the second week he has promised this. I would have been impressed if he'd said something like, "Hey Josh? Go fuck yourself in the boardroom, okay?" And the thing is...so would Josh. But Markus doesn't know that. Mark calls him "Baby" and they all agree to start fresh. Josh treads the line between manipulative and unctuous, patting Markus on the back as they all head deeper into the suite to do God knows what. The ritual paddling of Adam, most likely.
Kristi and Felisha discuss the Rebecca's Ankle situation as Toral accompanies our skating champ back to the suite. Rebecca interviews that she and Toral have "found friendship," and Toral lists their similarities: Rebecca was at Chicago, Toral was from Wharton; Rebecca was a banker, Toral "[continues] to be a banker…" Boy, does she ever, I'll say that right now. She will be a banker all up in your grill until you beg for mercy, but there is no mercy in her. Only banking. Substantial banking experience.
For future reference, here's some stuff of interest from Toral's bio at the NBC site: She was one of a "handful of officer-level women structuring, negotiating and closing multi-million dollar deals" at Goldman Sachs, "has traveled to more than 15 foreign countries over the course of her career," is a "skilled day trader [my emphasis] and self-made multi-millionaire," owns "upscale" restaurants in Manhattan and Brooklyn, and lives in NYC, but likes to "spend her free time at her homes in Miami Beach and London." This is not a woman without accomplishments, and until today I thought she was comfortable with them. I'm just saying. Oh, and if you think you need to jot all that down for later? I wouldn't bother. Something tells me you'll remember.
There are lots of weird foot fetish shots of Rebecca's ankle: the Ankle on the Berber carpet, the Ankle at play, the Ankle turning a corner. Toral feels that the candidates are there, basically, to "demonstrate work ethic." She says that she and Rebecca share a "different style of thinking" than "those individuals, who have not been trained by large corporate institutions." God forbid. I mean, you know I really like Rebecca, so I'm willing to agree that she is better than lots of other people, but she's not better than Marshawn, or Alla, for Pete's sake. But that "trained by institutions" line is super-creepy. That's not work ethic, Toral. Work ethic is when you do it yourself, because you are hardcore -- not because you are a robot programmed to destroy and exterminate. And set up multimillion dollar deals. And talk about them. And talk about them. And talk about them. And GOTO 10.
Reading Comprehension:
Every time Jen W. speaks, see if you can hear a tiny voice go, "So?"
Every time Toral speaks, see if you can hear a tiny voice saying something about being a totally awesome investment banker. (Hint: You can! It's totally her!)
Every time anybody says anything about "the weakest link," abandon your child and take up drinking like a British lesbian.
Every time Jen M. speaks, imagine she wants you to "call now," because she's "lonely" and "waiting to talk to you."
Every time Kristi speaks, feel a little worse about yourself.
Kristi comes in and marvels over the broken ankle with a poorly-disguised glee that's hard to explain if you're not from the South. Southern girls...really like gross stuff. Horrible stories about trampolines and stuff like that. I've called it the V.C. Andrews Factor before, and it's what's at issue here: Kristi can't believe that there's a broken bone in there, and she kind of thinks it's great, but it's not any kind of slam on Rebecca or the Ankle, there's not even really schadenfreude here, it's just that she loves it, the brokenness of the bone, separate from whose bone it is or how it got that way. Jen M. comes in working just an insane amount of Blair Warner hair, and she, Felisha, and Kristi stare and stare at Rebecca. Felisha -- in the pink fur collar from last week's Alla Mystery of Fashion -- interviews that it might be a problem, but Rebecca just grins that grin she grins and says it's not going to hold her back. Rebecca grins like someone giving birth in an aboriginal culture where bad spirits will enter you if you scream during labor. Like how Katie Holmes will.
The blonder of the ladies -- Felisha, Alla, the Jens, Kristi -- have insane amounts of fun doing the dishes while Markus and Toral do a postmortem on the whole boardroom with Chris. Toral totally lies that she knew Markus was coming back, because he's smart and articulate, and "that's the ticket." They toast that the best people will win based on intelligence, knowledge, and logic, and then Toral telescopes her whole story arc for us: "I don't like cliques, I don't like politics, I hate fraternities and sororities...I don't like popularity contests." You sure didn't seem to have a problem with those things when everybody was ganging up on Melissa in the first episode, Toral. Especially ironic considering you now sound exactly like her. This whole you are dealing with a staunch character speech plays out over shots of the blondes having an excellent time, you know, team building and acting like people. Everyone is totally drunk, especially Markus and Toral.
Rhetorical Question! Don't bother answering. You already know what it's about. You know the answer before you know the question. Don't even think about it too hard.
Question: Why is Markus always in the women's suite?
Good answer!
Toral continues to be totally obnoxious, interviewing about how "a group of women here" seem to have "banded together based on the fact that they have no work experience." These are people who are worth millions of dollars, okay, and were outstanding in their field before they were old enough to drink, but whatever. She says she likes them on a personal level and calls them "cute," okay, and then follows that up with, "If I had a secretary job or an administrative job, I would happily hire any of these people." Aaaand...I hate Toral. If one of the male candidates had said that about the women's team, there would have been a Molotov explosion at NBC headquarters. Gross. This, again, is over shots of the entire team having fun together, with only Rebecca, Toral and the as-usual invisible Marshawn missing in action. Markus and Toral drunkenly agree on...something incomprehensible and drunk.
day, Trump and the Viceroys are hanging out on the banks of the Hudson, where there's an imaginary 30-acre park that currently looks like a dirt farm where they grow dirt. George asks Trump how he's going to handle the topography of the lot: "There's a lot of slope." For some reason it's insanely cute. Trump extemps that "we have a lot of good tractors," and he and Carolyn chuckle humanly about how he has no idea. It's fun, but I'm so sure they were just randomly chatting about that stuff. Well, not that I know what they talk about. People like that, I mean.
Capital Edge is wearing pink and coral again. Rebecca tells Trump that she wishes the Passion of the Ankle had happened in some kind of glamorous circumstance, but it was "just a fall." She doesn't point out that it was actually his horrible, worthless prize that broke her. He offers her like three times the chance of limping home, and three times she denies him: "I'm here to win." Trump likes it. I do too. Lady doesn't blink.
Trump mangles some kind of speechifying about how he's building this park, blah blah, the best park in the whole entire universe, will revolutionize parks and parking and whatever, a bold new age in recreation and leisure, and then awkwardly segues -- by way of "giving back to the community" -- to the task. The teams will buy "thousands of dollars worth" of high-tech equipment, then throw a "technology expo" at an old folks' home and teach them to use all of it. Nobody has questions, because it's an obvious, and wicked cool, idea. Trump needles Markus about how maybe he has questions -- he doesn't. Everybody's happy. Especially about that.
Randal tells a story about how the last thing he did before leaving for the show was to teach his dead grandmother about camera phone pictures, so that means he's qualified to lead this. The men immediately jump on board because they're scared of being PM and because they're all in total love with Randal. Randal feels like his dead grandmother will give the team the extra edge they need. I have some questions about all that, but I'm reserving judgment on Randal until he actually, you know, does something. All he's done so far is go to a funeral and get a million degrees and seem like quite a nice person.
There's a weird blippy transition where a old man sits on a street for hours as people rush by like in Garden State. It's kind of depressing considering we're about to visit a retirement home. In the shuttle, Rebecca gets down to it: if any of the Capital Edge women has concept ideas, they need to write them down so that they can discuss them in an orderly fashion. Rebecca tells us she decided to "step up" and prove she's valuable; Rebecca is all about stepping up, which is especially funny now, due to the Ankle. She chooses Jen W. for the event planning and catering, because of her supposed background in these things. Rebecca interviews this with an edge of murderous exasperation and that same grin, so you know what's going to happen.
At Cedar Crest, the retirement home they'll be visiting, Jen W. sketches out the event planning stuff and tells us she loves both "to entertain" and "old people." (So?) Her hair is really, really thin, and so is her voice, and I think also her sense of self. "I thought that we, as women, would be able to engage with the residents...they might see us as like their granddaughters." (So?) This is the kind of thing she thinks about. What is she even doing here? Everything she says is like that: "I like old people." "Lots of people enjoy cake." She's the most boring, wispy person I've ever seen on this show. She reminds me of Star from Project Runway. Her favorite television shows are Fear Factor, Law & Order, and ER. Two of which are fine, fine shows, but you gotta spice it up a little bit. Favorite movies include Pretty Woman, The Karate Kid, Steel Magnolias, "John Grisham movies," and quote, "movies that make me laugh with actors Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson." I don't even know what that means, but I do know that Pretty Woman is one of my three favorite movies of all time, and I do not think we like it for the same reasons. She thinks IKEA and Pottery Barn are a "little out there," I'm guessing. Talbot's is just a little too flashy for old Jen W.
Kristi and an old guy talk about how he would prefer to be able to use and touch the equipment himself, if he's going to be learning about it. "What's the point in watching...youngsters with beautiful eyes" doing all the stuff? The women blush and giggle and he tells them all what beautiful eyes they have. I love flirty, harmless old men like this. My paternal grandfather, Doc, was like that: this insanely flirtatious ex-military guy, a veterinarian, and I spent the better part of my childhood watching him charm the almost-literal panties off of women a third of his age. Really, though, I just want to know why this was under discussion: what were the options on the table? Were they thinking of using more of a seminar format? "Then you press the ON button, which you see I'm pointing at now."
Jen M. gives her interview stretching languorously back against a wall with this crazy I Dream Of Jeannie hair and a black trench. It's a really weird, off-kilter kind of modeling pose and I'm really unsure as to what the deal is there. ["I can't swear to this, but I'm pretty sure they put Omarosa in that weird pageant-doorsill pose too. Very awkward." -- Sars] She explains that they're going to be judged based on surveys that the seniors themselves will fill out. It's very glamorous and very weird, as she is telling us this. They all shake hands with the original focus group old guys, and Jen M. looks totally beautiful. One old geezer says he'll come if the pretty ladies will be there, and everybody laughs. He's not kidding.
Excel is also interviewing old people they've back to their conference room. Clay talks to an old man named Jacob about his technological level of experience. Jacob feels that computers are "something from the devil." It's awesome, the way that he says it, like he feels like they're "something from Ithaca." Randal looks at him tenderly and they kind of laugh and get weirded out because this is a 91-year-old man they're dealing with and they don't know if he means it like a metaphor or what. Creepy Mark and his blindingly white hick teeth and stupid fake tan tell us what we just saw, and then back in the conference room, Clay looks perturbed and James stares at something in that freaky way he has.
Markus says that TiVo is a great idea, and Clay just directly contradicts him, saying that the old people will avoid the technology expo if something really scary like TiVo is there. I would think they'd be more scared of the computers, if they're honestly going to go running (or shuffling or whatever) the second the terrifying technology is revealed, because a computer you can at least recognize on sight. TiVo, there's a whole explanation of why it's cool that will draw them in before they get scared. Markus diplomatically offers to be in charge of the TiVo presentation, and again, Clay has to disagree. He interviews that TiVo is a very hard thing to set up. Why is that any harder than anything else? Because it's Clay that's scared of TiVo, obviously.
George comes in and Clay calls him an old fart, basically, and George tells him to redirect, bluntly but not unkindly. Randal stares, and everyone giggles, and Clay just asks George to get on board with the idea that "old men are set in their ways." George points out that THAT'S THE POINT OF THE WHOLE TASK, but Clay's not hearing him. Randal acknowledges Clay's point, such as it is, and tries to keep moving, and then Clay fucks up: "If you're wrong, we'll deal with it then." It's not just what he's saying, or that he's saying it in front of George, which are two things that are bad enough, but he says it in this schoolmarmish, wheedling way where he does it without looking up from his paper. He's like the mother in every Tennessee Williams play. Randal's like, "Did you actually just say that to me?" And Clay...repeats himself. The whole time, he keeps glancing over at George. I hate Clay.
Josh interviews about this, calling Clay "the biggest bitch on the team," and pointing out how Clay could not take his eyes off George the entire time he was getting all Melissa about everything. Much was made of Josh calling Clay a "bitch," was he being homophobic, would he have said that about somebody else...and I think the answer is yes, because Clay was fully being a little bitch, in a way that you wouldn't consider Markus one, because he kisses ass desperately, but not as a strategy to make everybody else look bad. Especially Randal, whom Josh adores. It's a very specific usage, and one that I agree with here, and one that Chris would have agreed with, because it's a football team usage. "Grow a pair and stop being a bitch." Josh says Clay was being really blatant about "looking for approval" and that Clay was basically saying "when you lose, Randal…" and it's all true. There are lots of shots of Clay looking very much like Tom Lenk, only pissy and not cute.
Then things get gross. The patented Trump Wisdom Title Card this week is "Inspire." Trump tells us the total news of how "leadership is important" and that you have to "inspire your staff." I take a moment to note that shit down in a special steno pad I have for times like this, which on the front I have written in Sharpie "Duh Thoughts For When My Brain Falls Out My Ass." He then demonstrates this Wisdom for us by haranguing some old man about something, then summoning Miss Universe to flirt with the old man. He tells us that people like working for the Trumpanies because "I make it fun." To him, "fun" is hot young ladies that would never fuck you except for your money, not that you can get it up anyway. Fun is trophies. Boobies. Fun is the idea of ass, to guys like Trump, and I don't get it. The guy, Jay, is a lawyer, and he's kind of upset by all this blatant prostitution, and a little confused.
Miss Universe sits there and everyone's uncomfortable and Trump bumbles weirdly about how "where else you gonna get a good time like this," and this kind of thing is always so confusing because...it's so Vegas, like, "Come up to the room and drink some champagne in the hot tub and never ever touch me," and somehow that's fun. I think it has something to do with impressing other men and I don't think it has anything to do with sex. It's certainly not fucking "inspirational," so I don't know what the point of that was except to show Trump to be what we already know he is.
Essay Question: Pretend you're a creepy old fucked-up white man. You've been trained your whole life for a very rigidly defined kind of success, and now you've accomplished pretty much everything you ever needed to in order to please your father, who is now dead. While you've never really taken an interest in women as people, their forms and boobies are pleasing. Too bad your crusty old self needs Viagra to do anything about it, but luckily your cronies in the insurance racket have made that available at cost, while emergency birth control is still some kind of Satanic mystery rite that only happens on full moons. Keeping in mind that you've stashed every emotion or doubt you've ever had so deep down you've given yourself colon cancer and six heart attacks, and that your children hate you, in this essay you're going to ask for a hug -- from a friend, a coworker, even a stranger; be creative! -- because you're desperate to be touched.
Take all the time you need.
In some ugly conference room somewhere, Rebecca tells everyone to sit down and shut up and not discuss anything until they've all put forth their ideas. I'm down with that. She does it in a way that's not exactly packaged with cotton candy and a couple of roses, but it's not really all that bad -- just firm and a little tough. The rest of the team bristles about it, because they're used to being big fish in small ponds. Unfortunately, it also takes us back to this whole "strong women are ballbusters" and "real women hate ball-busting women like that" and "women just can't get along" and all that shit. Back to I Dream of Jen M., who tells us again what the point of this task is. Rebecca makes sure everyone's listening, and then describes their main concepts: there will be a computer station with three computers (the camera lingers on Kristi); a station with a High-Definition TV, the better to watch NBC shows like Jay Leno and ER and whatever else old people like that isn't on CBS (Toral); and the health and fitness corner (Jen M.). Rebecca asks if there are any other ideas -- "just products, not how we're delivering them, the specific products" -- and Alla's none too pleased with the fierce hand-holding that Rebecca's all about. I'm sure it was somewhat annoying, but I bet that meeting stayed on task the whole time, which is a huge pet issue for me personally, so I'm not bothered.
Alla interviews that Rebecca's management approach is very abrasive, that "in a group of such strong women, you don't talk at them, you talk to them, to get their respect and their attention." Valid. That's valid, but I sense that there's more to Alla's feelings about Rebecca than she's letting on. Just a feeling. Based on having seen the episode already. Rebecca orders everyone to get their stuff together for Best Buy.
Once there, Alla, Felisha, and Kristi stand in a corner not doing anything, and bitch about how "our" energy level is just so totally low. Alla and Kristi talk about how they all need to get "jazzed" and how Rebecca is clearly failing to get them "jazzed" and Felisha's like, "Jazzed, yeah." Meanwhile, everybody else seems to be adequately "jazzed," and working, and doing fine. Hmm.
I don't think they're being bitches, exactly, I just think that...well, like I said, they're used to being the ones doing this, giving the orders, and I'm sure it's insulting and obnoxious on every level when it's somebody else -- and not somebody that they've okayed -- doing it. Like, imagine Markus barking these "stay on task" kind of orders. But Alla was just as abrupt with the camera guys on the Lamborghini task, and Kristi did basically the same thing, only with more of a smile and less control, when she was PM. It makes sense, and I wouldn't want to be talked to like that either, but I can't fault Rebecca for going this route. She's naturally hardcore, and plus, she's had two episodes' worth of bullshitting around to observe and figure out a strategy to try to keep them on point. ["If people under you choose to take being told what to do personally, there's not a whole lot you can do in terms of talking 'to' or 'at' them anyway. I'm not a huge Rebecca fan, but…shut up, Kristi." -- Sars]
In some kind of emotion-processing meeting the guys have instituted, Mark bitches about Clay's whole ass-kissy deal with George, calling it contrived. Yes, totally. That's the perfect word for what that was. Good on Mark. Clay kind of responds, in a slickly covering-his-ass way, that he just doesn't want to be caught out in the boardroom and have them accuse him of keeping quiet about his issues on the task. It's not why he did it, but it's a moderately good, fast answer that a bright toddler could still see through. Randal's awesome: "How is that constructive?" and Markus blunders in. Social genius that he is, he counsels them to bury the hatchet, and that's all fine and good, and the way it's edited I can't tell if he's being overbearing or interrupting to do this, so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Sadly, he then calls the conflict a "lingering turd in the pool," which...no. No, Markus. Everyone's kind of taken aback and they giggle, and Markus...doesn't get why what he's just said would be a problem. He goes on to state that he hopes it'll get "fished out soon," which...God, I hate him. There's no fixing that.
The presentation at the Excel Expo looks totally amazing. Lots of those graphic cardboard marketing-tool things, brochures on every product, bright colors, some kind of focaccia delight, balloons -- it looks professional and fun, like a mini-convention. Accessible and not overwhelming, but very exciting. I have this obsession with PR and event protocol -- I still remember the lead graphic designer on a client meeting I did in Phoenix two years ago, from his name to the details of the rings on his fingers, because he was so cool and efficient and carried such brightly-colored posters -- so I was very interested in this task, and I was impressed by the guys' stuff even before I saw Capital Edge's setup. Josh hugs Randal some more and they laugh and perfect their delivery, and Randal tells us all about it. The theme is "Connecting The Generations," which is smart and a little sad. It's so perfect that it's...something. Depressing? Cynical, maybe? There are three stations, the first focusing on "Hobbies and Interests." At this station, Clay and Brian teach an old man how to use the internet to look up his old girlfriends. The second station is "Connect and Share," and it's all about photography: Adam taking pictures of old folks and letting them take 'em home. Very cute. The last station is "Fun and Entertainment," which is all the home theatre stuff and the TiVo, where Markus is quite confidently and competently explaining stuff like pausing live TV and all that.
Josh jokes, but it's not really mean-spirited at all: "Markus had a really captive audience...he had the floor to speak without being interrupted. It was like a dream come true for him." True, and he's great. He keeps having to rein in old man Jacob from before, who eventually winds up at the snack table with George, who thinks he's adorable. Markus is so cute with the old people, I love it. He's good at explaining, see, because he thinks he knows everything, and in this case, he does. Randal interviews how awesome everything looked, and he's obviously very proud of how it ended up. We end on a short shot of George chomping on something awesomely.
The Capital Edge expo looks like shit. They're in this cavernous room with some sad balloons and tables scattered willy-nilly, and nobody's within shouting distance of each other, and the food is crappy and the old people refuse to eat it. It looks like the last day of a week-long project lock meeting, the kind where you drink at night instead of sleeping and pass out in the shower for a minute or two. Like, the sad tables and the wires trailing all over and people milling around, not sure if they're even supposed to be there. Why did they feel like they had to utilize the entire space? That's the main problem here, in my opinion: throw up some portable walls and define the space and they'll focus on the snack table, but with it all spread out like this, it just looks like you've wandered into something that is none of your business. Like if you walked into this room, you would worry that you would be getting in the way. Not inviting. There's no sign or anything, just blonde ladies off in the distance with some kind of technology. And if you squint, maybe they're waving to you.
Carolyn comes in and asks Jen W. what she's doing, and Jen says "everything down to the table linens, the food, beverage [sic]…" and that's, like, it. Food and "beverage" and ugly table linens as far as the eye can see. That's not event planning, that's a cupcake party for your third-grader. She didn't do anything. Carolyn just looks at her like she's growing a Groucho mustache right in front of her. Jen W., realizing she needs to pad the description somewhat, continues, "Make them feel welcome, very inviting, not too overwhelming." These are not the crazy kind of old people. They're ambulatory, they can talk and walk and joke around. She's acting like old people are for pitying, which makes me not like her. Like she's thinking, "Awww, how sweet," like they're fucking golden retrievers or something. Explains why she didn't put in any effort, I guess.
Carolyn tells us how the whole thing was "very dry, very drab." She stands with Jen W., staring at the cake. An old lady on a Jazzy asks what the icing on the cake says, and Jen W. is all, "It says 'Techno Expo'!" The old woman laughs, and she giggles in this condescendingly conspiratorial way, "Hee, you like that?" So gross. Carolyn's like, "Uh, it does?" Jen W. turns the cake around to look at it, and it's spelled wrong. Carolyn's like, "Um, yeah." It's so awesome. It actually says TETHNO EXPO. Jen W.'s very fucking sanguine about it: "It's supposed to be a C! Oh, well…" (Like, have you met my friend Carolyn? "Oh well" is not in her vocabulary.) Rebecca tells us she was "very unimpressed with the food and the décor," but that she thought they'd "persevere," because they're fun and cool and "could give these people a good day." I like that. A lot.
We spend a lot of time at this point on Toral fucking up the HDTV super bad. It's just terrible. She's stuttering and wrong and keeps pressing the "OK" button and describing it to the totally bored old woman as she's doing it: "And now I'm just going to press the OK button, okay, and then...oh...umm, so then we just press the OK button, okay, and it'll...actually, what we should do now is press the OK button sixteen more times in a row so that...hmm. You know what, I'm going to go run away and hide now."
She has the gall to give us the following interview: "Look, I'm an investment banker on Wall Street. I put together multi-million dollar deals and the TV...I wouldn't say it's below me, but it's not something I would generally do." Except if, say, that were your entire job, which today, it was. Marshawn appears out of nowhere to describe Toral's activity as "attempting to give a presentation." We see Marshawn just staring at Toral and looking exasperated. It's embarrassing.
Quick Quiz! In your task, you'll be demonstrating a fairly uncomplicated piece of televisual technology. You'll be showing people -- who are fully in possession of their own faculties -- basic TV functions: on and off, changing channels, and the like. Do you:
A. Decide to wing it -- how hard can a TV really be?
B. Spend the equivalent a fucking smoke break with the manual so you don't get embarrassed later.
C. Spend the time screwing around and thinking about how accomplished you are -- it's not like old people are capable of learning, or being taken seriously.
D. Get grossed out on a visceral level that you've been asked to do something so demeaning as turning a TV on and off when there are Lycra pushups to be done.
Answer Key:
B, because it's no skin off your ass, and because nobody is so special that they get to opt out of basic preparedness. God.
Partial credit: A, with the caveat that you take the time Jen W. "spends" getting everything "ready" to at least try turning the thing on and off, or something.
Jen M. demonstrates an exercise heart monitor for some old guy whilst wearing a superhero outfit. Rebecca stares and Carolyn laughs as it goes on and on, Jen M. doing pushups and sweating. The old guy says, "If my wife was around she'd kill me." She shows the guy the heart monitor once she's done, and points out that her heart rate is now at 113. The old guy's like, "That's very high -- I've got you very excited." Jen M. is awesome as she removes the heart monitor and is very busy with her hands, indulgently murmuring, "Jim, what am I going to do with you?" It's very cool and redeems the whole thing. She I Dream Of Jeannies that they'll probably win because of their concept, but "if we get a good score because of the old men, I'll take it." Cut to an old man filling out a survey: "Thanks for the pretty girls." This is all so meta about Trump and this whole season full of beauty queens that it makes my brain hurt. Like: "I'll probably succeed because I'm brilliant and have all this awesome experience and am already the most successful person I know, but...if I do better because of horny old goats, I'll take that, because it's a win/win, and boys are easy." No sweat. Third Wave feminism rocks!
I think Brian is actually shrinking, you guys. Everybody comes into the boardroom, flush from pulling off their tasks with élan and, for some, a little bit of ugliness. Toral continues to be better than anyone else that ever lived, and looks like she's just about had it with all this mucking about. Why can't Trump just hand it to her, already? There's a bit of a love fest between Excel and Randal, and Trump asks if there was a weak link. Randal starts to say something, and Trump interrupts: "Please don't tell me Markus!" The entire team backs up Markus and puts their hands on his shoulders, and Trump and I are pleasantly surprised, because for whatever reason, they've actually been able to set aside all of Markus's bullshit and be cool to him. Mostly, though, the reason is that Clay has now nominated himself for Whipping Boy, just like Markus has up to this point, and they're just following his lead. The women all smile about the Markus thing, because they hang out with him all the time and braid his hair and paint his toenails and talk about their feelings and he gives them advice about boys. Rebecca fixes Trump with steely eyes and says that Jen W. was Capital Edge's weakest link.
Carolyn explains how the task is going to be judged by the seniors' evaluations, which they gave on a "comment card, or survey." She reads the comments: "A new world to me," "Thanks for the pretty girls" (camera on Jen M., who I think is pretty but not the prettiest, but it would make sense that she'd catch your eye first because she's very fit and has giant hair and all the signifiers of the whole blonde buxom beauty ideal), "Experienced technicians would have helped" (Toral), and "I was disappointed." Carolyn reads this last with a disapproving look at someone -- probably Jen W. Overall, the experience was rated, in terms of usefulness, comfort and presentation of the products, with an average on a 1-to-10 at 7.9. If I were anybody that wasn't Toral, I would have just littered her station with comment cards. I hope somebody did. "Be detailed and specific, old people!"
George says that Excel "did well," with comments like "The products were well presented and the staff were very courteous and very informative" (Markus, predictably, not only because he rocked but also because he's informative to a fault), "Good display," "Representatives were friendly and very well informed" (Brian and James, the latter smirking oddly). Their average score is 8.1, so Excel flips out as Jen W. looks like her goose is cooked. Which I hope it is. ["In Alberto VO5." -- Sars]
Excel does their exemption vote for Randal, and it goes like this: Clay and James have their hands up before Trump's asked the question, then Markus, and then everybody, including Josh and Mark, who previously were on the "no exemptions ever" team. James smirks creepily some more. He keeps doing it, I'll keep mentioning it. The reward, in keeping with the "theme" that doesn't actually exist, is about "giving back to the community" -- this time, to children who are in the hospital. Adam smiles because he's a child and thus supports toys. Marshawn looks really pleased by this reward, and Clay almost cries. Trump starts in again with the "thousands and thousands of dollars" and mentions how the children in the hospital are "suffering and having a hard time," and for the third week contrasts the perk-filled and luxurious life of the candidates with people who are less fortunate and don't have the good luck to be on The Apprentice. It's so weird when he does that, and he always does it. Is this because he wants us to think that being on this show is a good thing? Because if he's not got us fooled about that by now, we're smarter than you might think.
Trump addresses Capital Edge with the chestnut about how when you're "giving to the community" of old people, there are no losers, only winners, so...they're kind of winners, except for how they lost. And someone is getting fired. Randal helps Rebecca with her chair and crutches and stuff, and okay, I love him. Fine.
The women return to the suite looking stressed. Jen W.'s posture, among other things, is horrible. She whines to us in interview about how Rebecca "stabbed her in the back" (So?) and how she's "very, very" lots of things, mostly resolving down to being very, very disappointed (So? Times one thousand?) in Rebecca. She cries with Kristi and Kristi tries to calm her down, and she kind of goes ballistic. "I'm just so fucking tired…" And then she hurls herself back onto the bed and starts screaming: "And I don't even like to cuss! I'm a-gonna take a piece of soap to my mouth right now!" Kristi's like, "Whoa! Dude! Hey, Jen!" and everybody but Rebecca and Toral sits on the bed looking dour and watching her lose her mind. Dear reader, I know we haven't been together long, but surely you know by now how deeply offensive I must find all of this. I would not have sat still for five seconds of this bullshit, and I sure as hell wouldn't have been an audience for it. How toxic can you get? Women in business don't cry, my dear.
Meanwhile, the Excel guys are enjoying their reward. Josh calls the whole rewarding idea of giving presents to kids "a phenomenal concept" and says that seeing the children smile is not quantifiable. He comes off as amazingly genuine here. Clay tickles a child, Markus gives a kid an X-Box, Mark wonders at how even really sick kids can be distracted from their situation through the magic of toys. James makes a little girl laugh AWESOMELY. Markus and Josh hang out with the more bedridden kids, and Josh continues with the whole starry-eyed thing about how great it was. I sure do like Josh. Everybody is clearly enjoying this, and not in a lame way. One kid says that he'll buy a Lamborghini with his first million, and the guys all laugh and cheer except for Clay, who calls it a "sore subject." James is very sweet with the kids, and his smirk goes away, and maybe he's not so bad.
Jen W. does a total ninja sneak attack on Rebecca, on the balcony outside their suite, where she basically begs clemency because she "greeted everybody." (So?) She starts in again about being "thrown under the bus" and Rebecca's got the scary Joker smile on again. She's so damn intense, I love it. Jen W.'s voice squeaks up the scale and she natters on and on and Rebecca's doing her best impression of Patricia Clarkson in High Art: "Yeah, yeah. …Yeah." Jen W. points out that the only total failure of a station -- besides, um, hers -- was Toral's, and she holds up eight random fingers to show how many times the HDTV froze up. Jen W. confides in us about how Rebecca and Toral's trip to the hospital has made them total BFF (So?) and I'm like, first of all, they have a lot in common and would have been friends anyway, but also, it's Toral. I have no doubt she was there the whole time, but I doubt she was all that helpful. "Go get you a Snickers? Look, I'm an investment banker on Wall Street. I put together multi-million dollar deals...I wouldn't say a vending machine is below me, but it's not something I would generally do. People who went to Wharton generally snack on sevruga and Fiji water," or whatever the hell.
Jen W. continues, and I liked this part because it's the only time she's not just terminally generic and vague: "If you don't take that person into the boardroom...it's going to come back on you. I'd rather have you here than her. She's not our caliber. I'm afraid that your friendship…" Rebecca looks up from the crossword or whatever she's doing while completely ignoring Jen. "Clouds my vision?" "Yes," screams Jen like a hundred times. "Listen to everybody! How can seven brilliant women be so wrong?" It's a good point, and pretty much the exact one I made about Markus last week: If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs, please keep in mind the possibility that you're the one being a jackass. Rebecca prevaricates about having not made up her mind and mostly I just really like the way Rebecca's handling her, and demonstrating that she gets where Jen's coming from, and doing it in a respectful way.
Flash Quiz! In a desperate attempt to cover her own ass, a hysterical employee starts questioning your management abilities on a basic level, accusing you of favoritism and making veiled threats about your chances if you don't do what she says. Do you:
A. Indulge the person until you can get her off the balcony, and then toss her under the nearest bus -- it's actually, truly, genuinely not about Toral, that's sorority bullshit. It's about the fact that your employee managed to "transform" a perfectly useful space into something resembling the bombed-out warehouse from the end of Mr. And Mrs. Smith and served old people horrible cookies and TETHNO cake.
B. Stick with your BFF no matter what -- depending on which side of the Zoloft coin is up today, Trump has a 50% chance of being impressed by your loyalty.
C. Grab the whiner and the nearest beauty queen and head into the fray without thinking twice, knowing that there will be enough sparks and lost composure that you can crutch your way out the back with a bag of money before anybody notices you're gone.
D. Burn the fuckup whiner, but make it seem like the decision has nothing to do with covering your own ass and everything to do with your Superman-like commitment to Truth, Justice, and the American Way. With enough smoke and mirrors, and a few casual references to your magic Ankle, you just might stick your landing!
E. Set fire to everything in your path, strapping on some cleats and dancing across the heads of Trump, his Viceroys, anybody who looks at you funny. Fire random potshots into the crowd while cackling madly. Carry a switchblade and stare at people so intensely that they burst into tears, and steal their wallets while they're still whimpering.
Answer Key: I have no idea. They're all equally likely. Now that I don't like Kristi or Alla as much anymore, I'm hoping for E., but they're all pretty good.
When the ladies come into the boardroom, we see the I Dream Of Jeannie hair again, out of its normal environment of leaning against things. Things are somehow more tense in here than usual; even the Viceroys are tightlipped. Rebecca looks like a serial killer. She smiles at Trump, calling him "Mr. Trump" at every opportunity. Toral starts in on how she did a really good job, but she's the only one. She thinks Rebecca did an outstanding job and thinks they might've lost "because some individuals didn't have the technical knowledge that maybe some of the men did." Two awesome things happen: First, Felisha's just staring into space until Toral starts down that particular inroad of denial, then turns and stares unbelievingly. Meanwhile, Marshawn cuts in with all the grace and poise of a visiting head of state: "Mr. Trump, if that's the case then Toral has to be talking about herself." Nobody can believe what Toral just said, so Marshawn's speaking into silence. "Your station was the only one where there was constantly a problem." There's a really bad edit here where it's clear the conversation did not go the way we're seeing it go, but you can't edit in what's going on with Toral right now. "I don't think so. That's ridiculous," she says. Marshawn continues effortlessly, "We're not asking for the world from Toral, we're asking for basic things. On a team there's a reason why some people are starters, and some are benchwarmers…" Kristi and Jen M. nod, and Toral flips out.
"I'm telling you I have substantial knowledge in finance, accounting, marketing...I have impressive work experience, the top real estate developers in the city know me. You have in general a group of people with very little unimpressive work experience, poor professional education…" Everybody just stares, because she's just about screaming this. Felisha and Marshawn are very wonderfully bored and severely unimpressed with this, which makes me think it's not the first time this kind of freakout has occurred. I guess I spoke too soon with the whole "thank God they got rid of the Omarosa early this year and minority women can finally get jobs in America" thing.
Carolyn, disbelievingly: "Are you saying you're the only person who deserves to be here?" And Toral is just brilliant in her response. "I think I'm the only...uh...I am one of the individuals that I believe will end up as a strong executive in the Trump organization." Trump asks who else, and you already know the answer: Rebecca. Well, you're half right, Crazy. Alla busts in with the unnecessary "Mr. Trump! That's a biased opinion, because they're friends." It's unnecessary because Toral is outing herself as a nutjob, and not even Trump is going to buy anything she's selling today. "We both come from analytical backgrounds," Toral explains, "we both think thoughts through before speaking, we speak less, we think more." Clearly. Felisha is awesome here, looking exactly like Amy Sedaris at the height of a most hilarious frustration.
Trump asks the Viceroys for a comparison between the teams. Carolyn says the men were "more entertaining," and that Capital Edge was "boring." George gets all crotchety: "Who picked out the food? The men had cookies, great cookies. Nobody wanted your cookies!" Jen W. says, and this is a fair point, that it is not the cookies that lost them the task. I mean, she's trying to toss Toral under the bus, so to speak, but that's her only option right now, and she's right: it wasn't the cookies. Carolyn complains that there were no signs alerting the people to the expo, and that they had a TETHNO cake. Kristi looks worried, especially when Carolyn raises her voice about how "Nobody even caught it!" Jen W. owns up to that one, but still believes it's Toral that's the weak link. Felisha, when asked, says it's really a tough call, and Trump agrees. "Rebecca or...Toral. She's a liability, sir." Toral, not helping herself at all, makes another appeal: "That's ridiculous, Mr. Trump." Shut your mouth, Toral. Your whole deal here is that, in front of Trump and the Viceroys, you've demonstrated a complete lack of respect for your teammates, or indeed most people, and every time you question another person in this room you're proving them right, not wrong. Alla says that Toral is the problem, and Jen M. goes one step further: "[You should fire] Toral, and if [Rebecca] doesn't bring Toral back in, she should definitely be fired." So awesome. I love it when you tell Trump his business and he can't bitch you out about it, but especially when he gets confidential like this: "Yeah, I hope she does, but you never know."
Rebecca, over all other speakers, then rings out awesomely. I don't know if I can get this across, how amazing and intimidating she is, but it was really something to watch. "Mr. Trump, this is something I'd like to say. To state for the record about Toral. I would like to see a woman on this team as your Apprentice. And I am fearful that if Toral does not proceed on, that a women may not have the intellectual…" Now, what she's saying is about 80% bullshit, but it's the way she says it that Trump -- and I -- respond to. This façade of total fearlessness and intensity where it's like she's got a microphone and it's plugged into the guts of you. Every week I've said, "There's a hardness, there's a hardcoreness, there's a thing, this or that," and this is what I was waiting for. She's got a little lip quiver, it's clear they're all exhausted, but she's fronting so impressively, it's such a massive and relatable bluff, that I'm willing to agree with her on the flip side.
Jen W. answers her with a succinct and fairly awesome "You show a lack of judgment." George agrees, yelling, "Way off base!" Trump is pretty cool here, throwing out a hand and saying in a reasoned, measured tone, "Don't say that, George. I don't necessarily disagree with her." And George returns the serve: "I do." Then, as though correcting his sales figures, Rebecca turns the Manson lamps on George: "She went to the same school as Mr. Trump, George." Silence. Trump's like, "Toral has to be smart -- she went to a school...truly the smartest people in the nation go to the Wharton School of Finance." And just when you think he's fallen for the most brown-nosed of Rebecca's strategies here, he continues. "That doesn't mean she has common sense, and it doesn't mean she has...other things." I assume he means like a soul, or friends.
Asked whom she'll be bringing back in with her, Rebecca calls it a hard decision, but says ultimately she has to go with her "integrity"...then names the Jens. Everybody's shocked and grossed out, and I myself am confused. Why Jen M.? For a second I thought it was a technicality based on possibly bringing up Jen M.'s possible reliance on sexuality, that somehow she might leverage Carolyn in there on that one, but she doesn't go within a mile of that, so...maybe it's a Big Brother pawn thing and she's bringing in the one person who hasn't fucked up anything whatsoever and is generally pretty awesome. And come to think of it, is probably the most attractive to Trump, out of all of them. Ew, I just grossed myself out through the power of cynicism. Still, I would love it if Rebecca were thinking all of that at once.
I know I'm quoting a lot this week, but it's good stuff! Trump goes, "You've put yourself in a very bad position," right, and Rebecca's all, "I appreciate that. But I intend to maintain my integrity. I believe in Toral, her abilities, and as a result, I am incapable of bringing her in here. Whether or not that leads to my defeat…" Trump: "Which it might." Rebecca: "Which it might, it very well could. But there's something I will never put on the line, and that is my integrity, and I will not allow that to be set aside in order for one short-term game." Mangled word salad, yes, but I do like the logical proof she's set up here, because it invalidates the whole "friendship" part: it would go against this "integrity" of hers to expose someone whose abilities she respects to be in danger. Which I applauded the first week, with Kristi, and even though it's a bit cheaper this time, I'm still down. Trump invites Toral to "drop to [her] knees and thank [Rebecca], because I don't get it." Toral, refusing to shut up, starts off again, but Trump interrupts her, addressing Rebecca: "I hate your decision, because I think you're wrong. What I do like is your loyalty. I think the loyalty is very admirable." She thanks him graciously and for a second is only at a like eight as far as the intensity of her eyes, which are like coals burning and whirling in her face. Trump tells Toral to "enjoy the view" -- "Thank you, I will," she giggles, and is pretty self-possessed at this point -- "while your friend Rebecca is going through hell." Ouch!
Jen W. helps Rebecca with her chair, which is very cool of her, and finally we get three people on the Robin Couch, for the first time this season. Inside, Trump and the Viceroys are...astounded by the whole production they just witnessed. Even George has to admit that she stood her ground. Carolyn's like, "She should've brought Toral and the whole Jen M. thing makes no sense, but at least old TETHNO's going home."
Rebecca returns and sits across from Trump looking hardcore, not blinking or looking down. She explains that she brought Jen M. because "she gets off-point and spends copious amounts of time on things that are...important, but not leading to a win." Trump dismisses this out of hand, and even Jen W. is like, "Jen M. did nothing wrong." I know she's a sad sack and all, but I'm kind of digging on Jen W.'s willingness to be straightforward about her own suckiness. Trump straight-up tells Jen M. she's not going anywhere anyway, and tells Rebecca she's made a terrible mistake. "The team can't stand her, and she brings them down. She wasn't an inspiration to the team, do you agree with that?" Rebecca is very cagey: "I don't believe the team was inspired by her, no...that could be somebody's reason to bring her back in, but I don't believe it would be my reason to bring her back in." That's some kind of Oliver North plausible deniability there, and I'm not sure I entirely know what's going on in her pretty little Natty Gann head.
Trump: "You're very hard-headed." Rebecca: "I am very hard-headed." George, because the secondary Wisdom of this episode is about demonstrating flexibility, brings that up. Trump casually admits that Rebecca has no flexibility, and I think if she weren't so keyed up, she'd realize he's not really seeing that as a problem, for the moment. So instead she goes off on George and Trump both at once, and it's incredible. "It's ironic that you say I have no flexibility, when I stepped up to this task with a broken ankle -- the first time I've ever had a broken bone in my body -- walking on crutches, I stepped up to this task, and was flexible enough to take on Project Leader. To call me inflexible..."
Trump's like, "You are inflexible." He's right. "You're very inflexible and you're very tough." And it's this. This is the point where, walking the line like she's been doing, she has the option of screwing the pooch to the wall, like they always do. I mean, she's bitched out George two or three times, called Trump a chump, and didn't blink doing it, so I was expecting her to do something idiotic and push it that nanometer over the line. Instead, she smiles that Rebecca smile, and simply agrees: "I'm very tough, Mr. Trump." And she's totally safe. I love that so much. Trump switches over to Conversational English, all, "Except you totally lost, though," but it's just an object lesson at this point, and she responds appropriately, which is by hanging her head sheepishly, because as keyed up as she is, somewhere in there she knows she's fine, and the rest of this is just for TV.
Carolyn attacks Jen W., like she's been waiting to do the whole time: "There was nothing to this presentation. Very dry, very drab, the food was...horrible, and there was nothing that drew you in. There was nothing. It was boring." And Jen W.'s response? So awesome. "My grandmother loved cake. I had cookies because not everybody likes cake. And also there were sugar-free cookies, due to diabetes." That's her whole response. Trump's like, Rebecca buddy, why did you lose? "Because we didn't put on a good enough presentation." So was that Rebecca's fault? Or Jen W.? And Rebecca gets a little testy, all, "Well, like I said previously…" He cuts her off. "Is it your fault?" "It was Jen W.'s fault."
Jennifer's now grasping at straws and gets kind of hysterical, all, "I think that it shows more her poor leadership that she's letting her friendship cloud her judgment and how can seven other brilliant intelligent women be so wrong?" Jen M. is like, "Yeah, true enough." And it is a good point, but just like Markus, you try explaining that to Toral and here's what you'll get: "Seven random women with poor education and no work experience think I'm unpleasant and can't cash the checks my ego is writing? Simple: Get better women and they'll totally love me." Narcissism is a question without an answer, because the only answer is, "That question is stupid."
Trump bottom-lines it in a way that his impending firing of Jen W. makes even more sense: "Look, this was about creating an inviting environment. There was no decoration, nothing special. The place wasn't inviting, and that was your charge." Jen W. shrugs, because Trump's been talking sense all season and that can really throw you off if you're not expecting it. He continues, addressing Rebecca again: "Toral should have been here. She would've been fired. But I think you have a tremendous potential." She smiles that sharky, heated smile. "Therefore, Jen W., you're fired." The women stand, and again Jen W. pulls out Rebecca's chair for her. Now I feel like she's milking it. At that point, why not trip her? You're already on The Apprentice, okay, and have just been outed as a crappy imposter event planner. I say have some fun.
We see one of the lift operators with the white gloves that you never see, and in the boardroom, the Viceroys and Trump are just kind of breathing and doing a cooldown after the whole intensity of Rebecca. They just look at each other and shake their heads. "This girl's either going to be great, or a disaster." WORD! I love her!
So the whole slo-mo to the suite is way less intimidating and amazing when the person's on crutches, I'll say that right now. Meanwhile, Jen W. is again getting vague with her bad self: "I'd just like to say that I am a good event planner and I'm very disappointed. I thought it should be Toral going home." She says more in the following categories: Toral is the weakest link (So?), Rebecca's judgment is clouded (…So?), and that the team is a huge mess (So?). Her torturous grammar makes it seem like her vanishing is going to send the entire team into shock and that morale is never going to improve after this blow, but I don't know how much of that she meant to imply. It's funny, though, because, like, come on, Jen W. I've already forgotten who you are, and I'm looking right at you.
So what did we learn? No matter how shady and sneaky you think you're being, there's always somebody more subtle than you are, so don't try that passive-aggressive "if you say so" shit, because even if nobody calls you out, four out of ten people know exactly what you're doing, and it will bite you in the ass. Don't tout your credentials on a national television show if the fact that you totally failed out due to cheating is widely available on the internet. Remember, rumors are just as good as truth, especially when you've already sacrificed your cred just by being on this show. Um, you can't assume somebody is fantastic just because they like Pretty Woman, which I was surprised to learn. Don't say you're an event planner if you're not. Brownie luncheons don't count. Basically, it comes down to this: show flexibility, because people's demands on you are going to be constantly changing, and if you rely on just one thing, even something great like where you went to school, or the girl that took you to the hospital, it's going to burn you. Also, show flexibility by getting the hell away from people that everybody hates: "everybody" is generally pretty smart. ["One word on that: Rupert." -- Sars] Don't be repetitive, it makes you seem unoriginal, and that's not inspiring. Just because it's charity doesn't mean you don't earn inspiration points and come off looking as sexy as a man with a puppy. Only scream at your boss if you're absolutely sure they're going to secretly eat it up, because if you miscalculate a risk that big, nobody's going to feel sorry for you, Melissa. And remember: good leadership is 80% inspiration, and what that means in a business context is: make people think you're more awesome than they are, and chances are, you will be.