Rebecca finds a new, better emcee and Randal works around the weather, just like you knew they would. Rebecca's emcee makes some creepy, queasy jokes about George, and the Outback guy continues to be a jackass. In the final Boardroom, Rebecca and Randal are total class, even when Trump and the Viceroys make the totally salient point that Randal should have checked the weather and Rebecca should have raised at least a couple of bucks at her charity event. The whole thing is framed at the live event, so it's episode-within-an-episode time, but that's mostly just annoying ("Here's what happened, it's very exciting"), except for when Robin and Carolyn fully dap hello.
The Peanut Gallery in the studio don't have a whole lot to say. Alla looks beautiful and acts like even more of a creep, while Toral still acts a whole lot like that little kid with the helmet that likes to run into walls. Trump spends more time abusing her -- hilariously -- than he does on his decision. When he asks Randal whether he should hire them both, the answer is a resounding NO, and Felisha almost gets into a fight with an audience member. And Randal's hired!
Lest we forget the real star and the only true winner here, we begin with Trump exiting his titular Tower, Viceroys in tow, to instant screaming from whatever the hell kind of people hang around outside Trump Tower, waiting to scream their stupid asses off in the frozen cold for a toadlike man whose multimillionaire status is somewhat belied by the fact that he commits ritual bankruptcy more times per fiscal year than you just tried to diagram this sentence. To be fair, he has a lovely Mystic happening in his maxillofacial area, and looks nearly presentable. He tells us how excited he -- and by extension we -- are, and reminds us that he -- and by extension we -- thinks Rebecca is smart, tough and loyal, while Randal is "just Randal," meaning that he's "just exceptional." That awful face he makes issues commands to the limo driver like the guy's never been to Lincoln Center, orders Carolyn and George to "Come on, folks, let's go," and walks with that damned swagger he has, like he's in a movie with a totally kick-ass soundtrack, the foot from the curb, then stands at the door ushering his Viceroys into the building, somehow standing with a swagger, and we're off to a very fucking irritating start. Yes?
In Lincoln Center, everybody is screaming, and we look at thousands of uninteresting people, wearing fewer shrugs but more coats than you might think, and Trump jumps up on stage and does this way dorky move with his arms out -- the main event has arrived, and he's yooge! -- and people kind of scream. It's a polite kind of scream. Everybody looks pretty bored. Trump introduces "the lovely Robin," then throws his big fluffy coat directly in her face, and she fucking giggles, and runs offstage, covered and I mean smothered in overcoat, and I...sort of don't like Robin anymore. The three cross stage left to the ghetto fake Boardroom and we see in the audience Ms. Singer from Autism Speaks, sans daughter. The Hair, it looks nice. It's got that ham-fisted finger-combed look it gets, but it's going straight back and is less unruly than normal. The only troubling thing is that you can't really tell where his hairline is, because his hair kind of matches his face.
Trump blathers on at the tippity-top of his amphibious lungs about shit you already know -- Randal is "threatened" by rain, Rebecca is threatened by Piscopine flakery -- and the camera refuses to see anyone cheering for Randal except for black people. Don't email, there's a point to noting that beyond the fact that it's weird. Cheering for Rebecca are...old people. And an Indian family. "Believe it or not," intones Trump, "I haven't made up my mind yet. Hit the lights! Let's get going!"
Credits. That's the exact swagger! He imagines himself in these very credits now when he walks, I think. I'm going to do the same thing from now on. And I do love watching that opening walk, it's quite purposeful. The brain, knowing this is the last time I'll see Rebecca Jarvis really, gets hyperfocused on her swagger: she looks beautiful (if weird, with the two legs), she's got one hand in her pocket, and the other one's...clenched with purpose, determination, and the will to be the best. And in the interests of equal time, Randal's beautiful smile is blinding.
The music thrills us back to the final task. It's midnight, and Joe Piscopo is a problem. Toral, being quite positive, suggests going for someone "bigger than Joe," and James worries about money. Toral points out that there are numerous comics that'll do it for free, and Rebecca says one of many brain-fried dumb things she'll be saying tonight: "For a good cause, sure, but...this is Yahoo!" To which Toral replies, without even a sliver of bitchery in the voice, "No? This is for the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation?" Again, Toral's on top of it. She and Mark are really getting hero edits in this task. I'm having a whole Remember The Umeboshi/"How You Remind Me" moment here, because she's pretty awesome in the last three hours of this unending season. There's gotta be a pill I can take. But you know, we never really got to see the two of them actually working, did we? Not really. Bitching and moaning and being creepy and all Switchblade Sisters with each other, but not actually working, and if it was like this -- "What about this?" No, because of this. "Good point, what about this?" Good call! -- their bizarre synergy makes a lot more sense.
Rebecca interviews w/r/t the Piscopo bullshit that "of course" she's upset, but that rolling with the punches is "what life is all about." She tells Chris and James to start calling improv theatres in town. Improv theatres? In New York City? You're kind of looking for a diamond in the haystack there, aren't you? While Rebecca makes really adorable, exaggerated faces into the phone, and James starts gearing up for when Chris will inevitably step up and just be the emcee himself, Chris pulls out a nickel and throws it in any possible direction, instantly producing a nearby improv comic like the nickel is magic.
Over at Excel, Josh is telling the groundskeeper at Keyspan Park that things are looking "gorgeous," but the guy basically tells him to GoSMILE himself because it's raining bad and it is never, ever going to stop. Josh futzes with his hair and prays for a tarp to at least salvage the field. Randal interviews that at this point, his future actually ended, and that there "should have been a contingency plan," but that this "completely eluded" him. Which is first of all Duh with a capital Doy, but secondly it's funny, because if he'd just watched the damn episode, he'd know this anvilstorm was going to happen. Lest Randal have a second to like Manage his Project, Ms. Singer from Autism Speaks calls him up to worry and bug him, and Randal promises to keep in contact with her very supportive and helpful self. Josh looks like a beautiful, gorgeous, heavenly angel when he sleeps -- how does he get through a single face-to-face meeting without people trying to kiss him? Without actual vice presidents jumping up in his grill? -- but kind of like a tool when he agrees with Randal that they still have a chance in hell. Randal: "This isn't rain. This is drizzle." Cut to a ridiculously overlong clip of safety barrels rolling around in the torrentially drizzle-flooded streets.
James shakes the hand of the incredibly wormy Pete Dominick, who at the last second warns him that he's got "pee" on his hand. Fucking charming. ["I've seen this guy at his 'home' club; he's funny, ish, and a good emcee, but also hostile, in that way that really isn't a joke." -- Sars] The awesome and nonplussed James is smooth as silk: "Glad to hear it. Let's go meet Rebecca." I think he's hoping for some kind of matter/anti-matter explosion when they come into contact. Pete is from the now nickel-dented Gotham Comedy Club, James tells us, and one of the "best emcees in the area." His teeth are so Cletus they look fake and his eyes are shifty and ratty and like all good comedians, he's clearly a train wreck. He tells Rebecca his riders: "three models," he says, and "Jennifer Lopez...and Jennifer Garner, because I used to know her." He's That Guy for whom the phrase "This Guy, I Tell Ya" was invented. Need I explain that I hate That particular Guy above all others? Rebecca looks at him clearly signaling that The Time For Fun Is Never, and he eventually starts bugging her about whether she's "all right" and whether she needs "a hug" and trying to chill her out, but she's not to be chilled. He congratulates her on choosing him, and is getting pretty charming, and she smiles and finally laughs and informs him, "You're making me like you right now." You know how intensely she says this, so you know what that's like. Cut to any damn generic interview: "We're going to have to make this thing work" and "I'm really proud of my team."
While Mark asks Groundskeeper Steve -- who after all has plenty of experience in this, given it's his whole job -- what the weather might be like today, Randal is very polite to his limo driver, then steps in a huge puddle. Mark interviews that they have "a real possibility of having a disaster on our hands," and his haircut is wicked flattering. Steve finally tells them it's over, and Josh kind of wigs, and Steve points out that this also involves life sucking for the VIPs. Randal again tells us that there was no Plan B, that they "had to make one up right there," and again, it bugs the crap out of me. Steve takes them down into a locker room (nice!) where there is a table tennis table. He helpfully suggests getting rid of the ping-pong table and maybe putting up something to block off the bathroom, and the camera juxtaposes this depressing talk with the depressing vistas of a locker room. Marshawn explains that, in addition to moving to the clubhouse, Plan B also involves ditching the silent auction and concentrating on just the live auction, pointing out that this will mean the celebrities will be competing against each other. Randal immediately starts figuring logistics on this pretty good Plan B, and we head back to Lincoln Center for no damn reason, and then we watch Queen Latifah supplement her Pizza Hut income with a Wal-Mart commercial, which reminds me to work really fucking hard for my Oscar.
Weekly Wisdom! This week's watchword is RESPONSIBILITY, but instead of some unrelated footage of Trump swingin' it, we get him screeching at us from Lincoln Center: "Oftentimes things go wrong, and there's just not much you can do about it, but a really good leader will step up, take responsibility, and really just find the right solution." Got that? "Responsibility" is not the terrible burden some might have you believe, but in fact is nothing more than possessing a gift for the ass-pull. Once more: "Oftentimes things go wrong, and there's just not much you can do about it, but a really good leader will step up, take responsibility, and really just find the right solution." Dear Learning Annex: Is it possible that you… Oh, fuck it. This last week has sapped my willpower completely.
Rebecca and Toral are doing goodie-bag stuff, which is a bunch of purple swag stuffed into purple backpacks -- because what high-powered exec or VIP doesn't toodle around town wearing a branded vinyl backpack as often as possible? -- and Rebecca reminds us once more that this charity benefit is special because it will involve no fundraising of any kind. Toral is completely fucking gorgeous. Wait. Remember The Umeboshi!
Over at Keyspan, Outback Jerkwad is not happy about things, of course, some more. I'm this close to never eating there again, except for how I've been there a grand total of once. It was nice. But now? Never again. Jim Kerr is in the Excel meeting, asking really good questions, and basically his concern is that if people come wanting a softball game, and made it out there in the rain, they'd better have a place to hang out, and not get turned away because the locker room is too tiny. Randal thinks probably a first-come, first-served policy should work well in this instance and Jim Kerr is like, great. Nice Plan B. Marshawn, who's...the thing is that, aside from the Extra Bonus Footage of Toral fucking up, the Returnees are looking about fifty times better than the Final Two at this point. They're so incredibly on-task, it's really thrilling to watch. So Marshawn is like, "This is a fundraising event. We will raise funds." For some reason, the tables are exactly Yahoo! purple. Interesting.
Singer is what I am officially over as she explains to us (quoting almost verbatim from last week's recap) that "success is defined, in my terms, as not so much on the logistics but on making sure that when people are here, how well he incorporates our messaging into the event. To me that's success." Lady, we know. But the difference is that you are not Randal, you are Alison Tepper Singer, and you're great, I like you, but I like you better when you're not the trees and you're not screaming. He's got you, babe. She reams him about the autism epidemic, which I'm sure most of you know by now is an issue that's very close to my personal life, and Randal's like, "Lady, we got me, we got you, we got Trump, we got Jim Kerr, and I'm fairly certain none of us is going to be able to shut up about autism, when it's time? But right now I've got the smell of foot and urinal cakes happening, and two picnic tables to my name." Her response: "Well, is there a little podium?"
Into the studio, the past candidates are all "talking" wildly, doing the whole "peas and carrots" drama camp deal. Clay and James are pretending to talk about, I think, Chris's gayness. Felisha and Melissa are talking about what it's like to suck real bad. Chris is whispering to Alla that Brian is very short and therefore she can feed on him most easily. Brian is paralyzed by fear and talking to nobody at all. Toral and Adam are talking about how much they like Rebecca. Marshawn is ignoring them. Jenthura and Kristi are talking about how gigantic their hair has grown, and about how that one rushee keeps favoring her left arm like she's trying to hide a lopsided bosom. Mark and Jentethno are listening to Josh talk about God knows what. And Markus? Markus is talking to the side of Jenthura's head, grinning madly, and then completely ignored, he turns away without dropping the grin and talks to space. That's all the Markus we get, but it's a microcosm of the Markus Experience, and just for the opportunity to see that, I am truly thankful.
Everybody's freaking out at Randal's party in the NJ, and Trump welcomes the loser candidates into the fake Boardroom by name. Melissa looks gorgeous. They all look gorgeous. Kristi I don't even recognize, and I already thought she was pretty, but her hair is now rivaling Jenthura. When Trump calls Toral's name, he goes, "Ay-yi-yi," and everybody kind of laughs. It's rather ugly. Everybody's smiling as they enter, except for Alla, who looks like she's doing this with knives in her shoes. Clay keeps doing this kind of bitchy chewing-gum-but-there-is-no-gum thing. Trump tells us how great he -- and by extension, we -- think this is going to be, what we're about to see.
Chris is all excited about hanging up a huge Yahoo! banner on the stairs down to the comedy portion of the evening, how it will "smack them right in the face," and we see the logo is also projected on the wall, and there are banners on every surface that has stood still, and he says the word "Yahoo!" so many times and we see the word "Yahoo!" so many times that it loses all meaning, and then the one pathetic but sweet Glaser banner shows up and Chris says it's somewhat "overshadowed" by the Yahoo! attack, and it's kind of a sad little moment. Especially if you consider how this would have affected Alison Singer. You think she's high-strung now? Hoo boy.
Meanwhile, Outback Jerk is still fucking bitching. Assclown. The actual people who are not 100% committed to being total shits are running around working -- like, literally running, sprinting, with big heavy boxes -- and this random chick that looks like my friend Traci Koch tells Mark that Marshawn may or may not be upstairs, and it's like an anthill when you stomp it, and then Mark accidentally runs into Singer, who jumps right up his ass about not losing the checks. The thing about Singer is that she's really pretty, I think, but weirdly, her stressed-out fake smile is prettier than her actual smile, which is already pretty. Never saw that before, but really it's a very charity thing to have going on with your face, if you think about it. Mark's got a ton of neck. His neck is eleven inches long, speaking of weird things in the face area. The check repository he comes up with is just bastardly ugly: a trash can with an Autism Speaks t-shirt stretched over it, like, the neck hole is where the checks go in. It looks like hell. It looks like Lindsay Lohan as re-imagined by Sid & Marty Krofft.
Randal gets intense in interview about how his team was the best, how everything they were given -- EVERY THING THEY WERE GIVEN -- they got it done. George looks totally cute in his little outfit asking Randal how he's doing, considering the completely unplanned-for rainstorm, and Randal says that you "have to be selective and strategic about what's critical," versus what he should "leave for others to take care of." I'm not sure if this is a sarcastic edit, but we then see him walking around and schmoozing and shaking hands and kissing babies and introducing himself to VIPs and being hugged by Jerry O'Connell, who is uncomfortable hugging to a degree I've not before seen. And if this is intended, here's where I go with that: I don't remember ever seeing Randal doing anything. He's great at whatever he does, I believe that, but the camera has a hell of a time catching him at it. up: Carson Goddamn Rat Bastard Kressley, who really wanted to play baseball, or whatever, but Randal says he can't, "unless you wanna get wet and dirty," which, come on, Randal, you know who you're talking to, and since Carson Fucking Kressley never met an obvious entendre he couldn't double faster than a shaking monkey in a stupid little hat starts dancing when he hears that organ get to grinding, he tells Randal that getting "wet and dirty" is his "specialty," then turns to me and makes some stupid joke about "organ grinding" that I wasn't even listening to, because maybe at least Thom Filicia's around somewhere, and him I love. Randal giggles, but I sure as fuck don't. Randal interviews that "everything's coming together" and he likes that, and he chortles wonderfully.
Carolyn enters the Yahoo! And Whatever All-Star Benefit intensely, and Rebecca welcomes her, intensely, and they talk as Carolyn stares at everything but her. Rebecca talks about how they've got "Yahootinis" with purple sugar on the glass and these really loathsome blinking purple ice cubes, and Carolyn stares around at all the Yahoo! crap, the screens everywhere screaming Yahoo!, and asks the obvious question, which is, "What do you have for the AIDS foundation?" And Rebecca's like, "…This sign." It's like an Eddie Izzard skit. "Oh, and Jake Glaser is going to be speaking." Carolyn interviews that the point of the event, after all, is to entertain the Yahoo! clients, and but also to raise money for the Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation, and thinks that maybe Rebecca "might have missed the boat a little on this." She tells us it's still "early in the game," and that she hopes Rebecca has some ideas, and makes these hmmm faces at Rebecca that are totally scarifying.
What Carolyn Says : I'm not going to keep you…
Trans.: Get the hell away from me. We're done here.
What Rebecca Says Then: Okay! Help yourself to something nice!
Ten years of Trump getting in his helicopter, Trump sitting dyschezically in his helicopter, Trump arriving some place in his helicopter. Randal runs out to meet him, looking freaked, and tells us that basically the last thing you want is Trump running around unescorted, and it's funny because the way he says it, what he means is that it would be rude, but it semantically could also mean that you don't want him fucking things up. We'll see in a sec why this is funny. On the way into the building, Trump's like, "You think the weather was bad enough?" and Randal replies that most of the celebs "didn't want to play in this weather," for which Trump cannot blame them, and then Randal starts in on "I have some bullet points for you." He shows Trump all these materials and documents about which Trump kind of couldn't care less, and finally Trump just actually gets bored and jumps up and walks away, and Randal has to quickly gather his stuff together and follow. It's an interesting juxtaposition there: Carolyn leaving Rebecca to work and do her job and stuff, while Trump gets the babysitting treatment from Randal. Which, speaking from a place lacking bias, neither of them really has the right idea, because in both cases they're working from a base where they just want the client to stop screaming at them, but while Rebecca assumes that Trump, Carolyn, whoever, can fend for themselves, Randal wants to shake and hold the hands of everyone possible. That's so biz dev, and one of the main things I've not really enjoyed about Randal -- he's definitely more interested in what Trump/client/whoever wants to say, but there's a downside about that where you're forced to delegate a lot more. Net result, in Randal's case, is watching Mark toil and bother while you're getting a load of pointless shit from Outback guy or from Singer, for example, with your mouth hanging open at being criticized the whole time.
Thom Filicia! I'm so stupidly in love with him, the idea of him, the nerdy pot-smoker laugh, the whole thing. No idea why. Wish it were otherwise, frankly. So Randal gives this speech with that Annie Lennox emo music about how autism is an epidemic, and we cut to six shots of wondering and touched faces and Randal saying not really anything. Mark interviews that Randal is a veritable "rock star for autism," which I totally thought that was the guy from the Vines, but then he gets all poetic and loveable: "In a carnival atmosphere, you see a man committed to autism," he says, and that it was "very moving" and that Randal "did an outstanding job." Randal talks about hearing about mothers and fathers of kids who grow up without the ability to say "I love you" to their parents, and...I'm not made of stone. Thumbs up on Randal there. This whole bit is kind of Frankenbyted around, I think, because we cut to Jerry O'Connell, bored, and then somebody who's touched and smiling, and then Trump, bored, with a big dumb baseball-headed mascot dude off to the side, and then this ridiculous dead guy with insanely stupid Goth hair floating like a ghost before the riot of color that is the Outback sign, looking Photoshopped from a Joy Division bootleg video (not to mention imminently slappable), and then lots of people clapping.
Trump congratulates Randal for having "it" under control, and shakes his hand, and Josh draws imaginary parallels between Trump and Randal, and then there's a crazy meta moment as Josh talks about how "It was real, it wasn't scripted and it wasn't rehearsed," but the wack thing is how totally scripted and fake he sounds and looks saying this. Sugar Ray -- but not the bad one -- is there some more, and Jerry O'Connell is totally tooling it up, and Jerome Williams is there with his insane veneers, and more Thom and a tiny blonde lady, and they auction some kind of Sugar Ray thing for $, then $$, then $$$, et cetera. Auctions. Always exciting to watch. And watch. And watch. Singer's loving the money for all the auction items, and tells us she's pleased about the autism message being all out there and well-spoken and touching, but neglects to mention how very way ahead of herself she's been getting for the last two episodes, and the Sugar Ray thing ends up at $3000, and Trump leaves, but we don't, and even Singer seems kind of bored.
There's yet more fascinating footage of Trump getting out of a helicopter, into a limo, down a street, and meanwhile at Cap Edge, Hazy Shade of Wintour and the other Yahoo! lady have intensely and unsurprisingly cornered Rebecca about specifically what Yahoo! swag there is in the gift bags, and Rebecca's like, "One thousand stupid purple tchotchkes and we also wanted to include Glaser stuff," which throws Hazy Shade for a loop. "And how did you end up handling that." Oh my God, lady. Rebecca explains that they will not be asking for any donations whatsoever at this charity benefit, and the Yahoo! ladies heave a gigantic and autumn-brittle sigh of relief. Rebecca interviews that she's focusing that part of her brain on how they put brochures all about AIDS in the backpacks, along with envelopes, and how, "hopefully, after a wonderful night, they'd see the envelope," and I guess I can buy that. Not optimal, but I wouldn't fight those ladies for a crepe, much less a marketing strategy, and besides, she's demonstrated her actual belief that the client here is Yahoo!, who is doing a nice thing for Glaser, rather that Glaser is doing this with the help of Yahoo! Trump asks Rebecca on the cell whether he'll be "impressed or disappointed," and because she's not Brian, she answers in the positive, and he says he's on his way.
After another damned commercial break, we get more wisdom! The watchword for the hour is R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Find out what it means to Trump. Answer: Nothing. "Always treat your boss with great respect. It makes you look good, and it makes somebody like me -- ME, do you understand? ME! THE BOSS! -- feel even better." You know that shit's verbatim. Read it again. That's what we're dealing with here. We've spoken, have we not, about how Trump cannot see beyond the edge of his shriveled, flaccid, hideous weltanschauung? Don't think it's getting better from here on out. "So let's see how Rebecca handled me. Did she do well? Did she do poorly? Take a look!" The music broadcasts its opinion about how Rebecca handled it, but we'll have to agree to disagree.
Trump bitches at his limo driver some more, and grouses that Rebecca "better be doing well," because "this place is hard to find." Are we shocked that Trump is actually so much of a backseat driver that he's actually worried about this? Again? Back among the hundreds of execs and VIPs who somehow managed to find the place, Rebecca's giving supremo lip service to the Glaser folks (one woman has an incredibly beautiful smile and a surprisingly cute Chrissy Hynde-as-blonde nonprofit administrator haircut). James is explaining to the replacement emcee guy, Pete, how after Hazy Shade, Pete will jump onstage, do a quick bit, and then Jake will come onstage, and Pete's like, "Hold up." The Glaser people are similarly troubled by this: you're going to have the wormiest This-Guy-I-Tell-Ya emcee this side of Piscopo onstage, hanging around, while Jake Glaser talks about his mom? James takes a sec to figure it out, and it's finally Pete who explains that it's fucking bizarre to have a wormy comedian onstage during this, people wondering who he is, not to mention the fact that he'd get bummer "poignancy" on him at that point which would kind of mess up his act. He frames it like a diva, but he's right, and the Glaser folks are onboard, and I don't know if James ever really understands the issue, but he concedes.
Trump, again with the stupid limo, comes slowly swaggering in, having been unmet (this is where the RESPECT shoe drops, I think), and Rebecca shakes his hand. She smiles intensely, and maybe Trump looks unhappy, but I'm not qualified to say. He always looks dissatisfied but simultaneously grotesquely satisfied, and it always plays hell with my ability to read the cover of the book that is him. Rebecca offers to show him around, unsure how long he's going to be around considering he's constantly running off to give the illusion of being busy all the time, and he's like, "No, that's okay. Let's get the event started!" She asks him whether he'd like to address the crowd, and he does, but what he says is: "Let's all go downstairs and watch some comedy!" And then, arm-in-arm with Carolyn, leads the entire crowd downstairs to do just that. Thirty minutes before it was supposed to start. Rebecca: "It's kind of humorous that, of all the things, Trump ended up being the biggest...wild card." Not for nothing did Randal warn us about letting Trump ramble about unsquired. Although maybe this is when Trump felt he was dis-RESPECTED.
Rebecca, watching Trump personally fuck her life up, smiles beautifully and scarily, and walkies to James to get the show going right fucking now. She suggests having Pete "run in from the crowd and hop onstage," which I like. Chris interviews about how Rebecca is awesome, "you never see her sweat," how she's the best at organization, how the best leaders "assemble the team, delegate responsibility, and execute," and we see Rebecca doing just this, sending Toral to get Jake Glaser, and everybody's awesome and well-oiled. James walks Pete through how they are starting things immediately, how Pete needs to get funny now, and Pete's of course pissed, and James interviews, laughing, how Trump did all of this, how the comedians were all getting their greenroom on and now they have to be like Go Go Go, and comedians do not respond well to this, because they are neurotic head cases one and all, and Pete's like, "You want me to go on right now and make some kind of weird announcement?" Word. He pissily suggests that James do that his damn self, quite rightly because they shouldn't see him before he comes on for his act, and James -- still not 100% on the factors here -- agrees.
Carolyn and Trump, who don't realize they have about three quarters of the whole scenario here, hushedly pronounce that the whole thing seems kind of disorganized. Donald, I'm speaking to you now: YOU DID THAT. YOU. BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T KNOW THE PLAN. YOU ARE NOT QUALIFID TO MAKE THIS CALL. YOU ARE THE OUTBACK GUY OF THIS. And I can guarantee you that the VIPs and guests don't know the diff, and if they did notice, they'd know it was you that did that. Hazy Shade introduces Jake, who talks about his mom and how she's smiling down right now, and he's a good speaker: loose, friendly, good-looking, not crazy. Hazy Shade introduces Pete, who looks totally obnoxious, then launches into George, calling him a lady, and very old, and totally rides George into the wall, and George loves it. Chris? Does not. He's utterly stressed by the effect this will have on Rebecca. I love Chris. Onstage, Pete's like, "He's laughing! It's okay. He might kill me but…"
Rebecca walkies to Chris about the goodie bags and Chris says, "Put a smile on your face, because George is doubled over laughing." Like she knows the difference between a smile and the grimace of intense will. The comic ascertains that George and his totally adorable wife have been married for 53 years -- everybody claps, of course -- and he jokes around with them for a while, all, "Where did you go for your anniversary? Applebee's?" And the kick-ass reply is, "No, Africa." I would like to have dinner or Thanksgiving with George. He exudes this gravitas that I feel like if I saw him across a restaurant I'd think, "I like and respect that very old man." Comic guy is like, "So...how do you top that?" Then he asks if George and his wife ever try role-playing, like maybe George could dress up like a maid for his wife, and Jake Glaser laughs the laugh of a trust-fund kid who's seen worse things than even that.
Excel looks gorgeous one and all, and they're admiring all the balloons and stuff, and Randal interviews his total thankfulness about his wonderful team. He hugs Marshawn and calls her I think "little sister" and she laughs and says no, he's the little brother. Then Randal and Josh hug as wonderfully as they have all season and won't let go of each other, and it's very moving. He says goodbye to them and is sad to see them leaving like it's the last day of summer camp. It's...the thing is that he's exhausted every possible resource he has, and it shows, and all his stuff is used up, just gone, every inch of him is wasted, and that makes your emotions crazy, so it's rough but sweet to watch. "Words cannot capture the gratitude I feel -- they worked so hard for me, and that's all they had going, just to see me succeed." Can you imagine knowing that? Feeling that? No reason to be here, except to carry you higher. That's wondrous. This show rocks. Driving back to the suite, he looks broken and close to tears and relieved, and mister, I feel you so hardcore right now. Not since ancient Rome has their been an orgy of self-indulgence like the one I would put on at this point in the day, if I were on the achy adrenaline high he's on right now. I'm talking wine like you can't get at the grocery store, imbibed to wretched excess, I'm talking candles everywhere, Frou Frou blaring so loud that red light comes on on the speakers, some Cruel Intentions, everything that ever contained chocolate chips going directly into my mouth, sloshy hot bath, making the Gilmore Girls look like amateurs of self-indulgence, a backrub from all comers including that weird stranger guy at the coffee shop, I'm talking indie rockers of my acquaintance summoned to play at my feet. I'm talking Laguna Beach marathon. In short: what happens right after I send Sars this damned recap.
Over at Yahootinithon '05, Pete name-checks the Glaser AIDS Foundation and thanks everyone, and there's a weird momentary clip of people's laps. Rebecca thanks every single person for coming and hopes they had a lovely time, and says "goodie bag" in that Chicago way ("beeyag") a thousand times, and tells us that they had a wonderful time and many of them said they were "really happy to support this foundation," and I'm so sure they meant with money. Benefits are like this: you feel good just for coming. George says it was a night of "good comedy" and gives her a high rating on "all the little touches," saying that she didn't miss a trick and was very professional. Rebecca toasts her team and tells us how she "couldn't have done this without them" and that she's "extremely proud," and assures Chris that she has "no regrets whatsoever." She tells them she loved it, and loved "working with the people sitting here," and Chris begs to be gotten the hell out of there, and she wishes she could do something for James and Chris and Toral, because they gave "absolutely everything" for both Rebecca and the benefit. In the limo, and again it's a nice counterpoint, Rebecca grins and looks tired -- but not so tired that she still couldn't beat your ass.
In the suite there is stressful music but no stressful people. They can barely speak, just grin lovingly at each other and send mental mind-meld valentines bursting with friendliness and self-esteem. Back in one of the bedrooms, Rebecca's doing some unspecified girl thing and they have a long talk, as Rebecca tells us, "about tasks...the good times and the bad times" and about "the tasks where we worked together and how much fun it was to work together as a team," which really is what they need to be thinking about. Randal talks about how they're going to "just take this thing out with a bang," and how he "couldn't think of a better person to square off [against] in the last task," and she Rebeccas, "I agree," and it's so, so sweet, because she wants to wash her face or do whatever this unknown girl thing is that she's trying to do, but she loves Randal, and he's all second-wind adrenaline talky-talky, so she's just affectionate and chatty with him. She interviews, interestingly, that they "have enough respect for one another to know" that they're both "very qualified to be here" and that "no matter what" happens, they're "both going to feel proud, of the other one and ourselves." They agree that they totally wanted the other one in the finals, all along, and she cheers, "Let the chips fall!" and finally he goes away. It's really the nicest moment in the whole episode, because she's so intent on doing whatever thing it is that she needs to do, regimen-wise, and so patient and affectionate about waiting for him to go away, and he's so jangly and nervy and wanting to stay up all night and dish and talk the fear and anticipation away. They really are like siblings. I've had this whole holiday homesickness thing happening all week, and this just poked me right in that, watching them be all wiggly and funny together.
morning they, per Randal, meet up "at a little café in New York" and have a lovely preparatory talk about their experiences and their parting thoughts before the last Boardroom. They grin at each other after every fake code word, like how they keep calling it a "thirteen-week process" and all that fake reality-TV conceit stuff, and it's cute. Randal asks the difference between Rebecca then and Rebecca now, and (still with the fried brain) she immediately calls upon the power of the ankle. But her reasoning is cool: that something "so in your face" and out of her control really could have killed her, but that she learned she can face that stuff. Valid. Randal sees her ankle and, like every week, raises her a dead grandmother, and Rebecca praises him on how, going through that, he carried himself "with so much dignity and integrity" throughout the thing, and says she respects that very much. Somehow they've managed to take the worn-out ankle and grandmother stories and conspire to make them real again, and I'm impressed and have a lot of respect for them about that stuff, all of a sudden. You know how you hear one awful thing and you know it's bad and you feel bad for the person, but then you hear it ten times and you start thinking up horrible jokes about it? They've effectively reversed that process. Especially impressive when it's the ankle. They toast each other, themselves, these laughing, these radiant people, these beautiful, successful, strong people, this Final Two out of millions, over a balcony breakfast in a magical New York morning, sun coming out, they toast. To victory.
THE END! THE END! THE END!
…Nope. Somewhere Old Yeller's fixin' to foam all on the mouth. The guys are packing up their stuff for the last Boardroom, and Randal interviews (cross-apply with the whole "this is all for Trump's benefit" deal above) that this is "the last opportunity to show that I am the Apprentice." Rebecca interviews (cross-apply to Rebecca's love affair with her own intensity and how her name is a killing word) that she comes with hands empty but for the "characteristics" that have "driven" her to this point: "Drive. Passion. Intelligence." ("Lamborghini, motherfucker!") And but also "the attitude that nothing is out of my bounds." Randal feels he has "more experience" and brings "more to the table," while Rebecca claims "broader business experience than anybody -- including Randal." Randal mentions his 3-0 record and the respect of everyone in the suite, and the fact that every draft involved stealing him away. Rebecca notes that this will be the "toughest Boardroom of all the Boardrooms ever," and the music threatens cataclysm. They respectively glide and hobble out and down to the Boardroom, where Robin tells them to sit down on the couch and wait for a long, long time. Randal looks fantastic, by the way -- this red satin pocket square matching his tie, and a pinstripe suit.
The six Returnees go in and sit down, looking utterly beautiful as well, and Trump enters with a mustard tie that matches all the rest of him, and Toral's contacts are stupid. Josh tells Trump that Randal is a "phenomenal leader," always "grounded" and remained "very calm in the eye of the storm -- pun intended," and Carolyn half-smiles indulgently, and then -- so tiny you have to slo-mo to really see it -- shakes her head, as if to say, "You're cute, but not that cute." It's hilarious. Trump calls the climate yesterday possibly "softball weather," and Mark allows that by the time Trump arrived, it was fine, but that was not the deal, that it wouldn't brand the charity well to have the event in inches of mud, and Trump segues kind of brilliantly. "You would have raised less money? You raised more." Toral: "Oh really?" Marshawn guesses, at Trump's request, that they netted probably over $5000 -- which is bullshit for this level of event, and she's got to know that -- and Trump tells Team Randal that they got over $11,000. Which is...still bullshit, but whatever, it was held in a latrine.
Trump asks Toral how much Team Rebecca got, and Toral admits that, technically, they didn't get a dime. Trump asks whether or not the raising of funds is the point of a fundraiser, and Toral says that Yahoo! was forcefully uninterested in that aspect of the event. Trump: "That's nice." She talks about the envelopes and the brochures and Chris clarifies the Yahoo! viewpoint, that these VIPs are clients spending $10M with Yahoo! already, and it's weird to invite them to this VIP party and demand more money. George asks what I've been asking two weeks now, which is who the hell is running the affair, and criticizes them for taking any client's word as gospel. Toral reminds them that they did a fantastic job, and that Yahoo! loved the event, but Trump notes that Glaser got nothing, which is "not right." Nor is it precisely true, but I'm not going to argue. Trump thinks Yahoo! should make a major donation, and in about twenty minutes they will, so our nation's corporate structure of product placement and mutual benefit remains intact.
Mark, brilliantly, gets all kinds of up in there about how they were doing the same thing, concentrating on nasty old Outback Guy, until they met the force of nature that is Alison T. Singer, and that she was so passionate and demanding that their entire focus warped over to fundraising, and mentions forcefully that this was Randal's decision, "and it was a great one." Actually, it was the same one, just with the charity and not the sponsor, but the spin ended up positive, and how could it not, because charity is the Godwin's Law of capitalism, it ends the entire conversation. Which Rebecca should have known, considering she consults for nonprofits, and I'm not going to make excuses, but she really seems to have misread that entire thing, like to a degree where maybe somebody should have pointed out to her that charity always wins over business. But then, I guess that's what Carolyn openly did, once it was too late.
Chris starts talking about his fabulous love of Rebecca's fierce, diva-glorious style, pointing out that he'd not actually ever worked with her to this point (which is interesting, because it means she really was picking entirely on her vibes, and not just with Toral), and that coming into this he really had no idea "what [his] leader would be like," and that she proved herself to be "a very effective manager." Josh interrupts, and Chris gets a little pissy ("Josh?") about how it's about "going above and beyond," and come on, Rebecca clearly knew she was going up against Randal, and Chris says that in fact she did go "above and beyond" and Josh disagrees and blah blah blah you weren't there, Josh, so shut up. I love Josh more than Rebecca, probably, but I'm confused about where he gets off, here. Chris goes off in that Chris-speechifying way about how she proved it to him, that she is an "effective and strong leader," and that he doesn't work for somebody he can't respect, and that she's proven herself as a great manager and a great executive.
Marshawn tells Trump straight up that Randal is better, without a doubt: he's "smart, strategic and successful --" and Trump interrupts: "Is Rebecca not smart?" Marshawn, cool and good, is like, "I'm not taking anything away from Rebecca. But you're asking who's better." Seriously. What a dumb objection to raise. Marshawn says that Randal's education distinguishes him from Rebecca by far, and Chris points out that Randal's education distinguishes him from everybody ever, and Toral randomly says that Rebecca has "integrity," and out of nowhere Josh admits that Rebecca is smart.
Carolyn, as usual, wants to talk about the real deal: the event. "I thought she handled it very well." Carolyn liked all the Yahoo! stuff and thought it was great. Randal's event, though, she has questions. Number one, for the hour, is "Why didn't you check the weather?" She says that if she was throwing a party in her backyard, she'd go ahead and check the weather. I almost lose consciousness imagining having to be a cater-waiter at Carolyn's backyard parties. "This spoon is spattered with water spots!" SLAP! Marshawn gives her team a somewhat tarnished accolade about how "the fact is" that even in the complete absence of a Plan B they still raised $11,000, and somehow that makes Randal a good leader. Yeah, not buying that line of attack at all. "I'm talking about business sense," agrees Carolyn. "Not having a Plan B is bad business." Josh, having been stricken by a case of the Brians, admits that not having a Plan B "baked" was a mistake, but puts a fractionally better shine on it by pointing out that it's not the obstacles that you face, but how you face them, that matters. Actually it's the same thing Marshawn said, but it sounds a bit better.
George asks what they did wrong, and Josh offers as many things as he can think of, for still random and unknown reasons. The weather, the biffed timetable, the total lack of Plan B. George: "Any others? Because I'll give you a couple." Ouch! George mentions how the celebrities were mixed up in the audience and he didn't know who they were or where they were, and that he thinks celebrities are entitled to certain recognition. Mark gives the right answer -- several of them, actually: "This is about autism, not celebrities." He then points out how Jim Kerr played up the celebrity component of the crowd, but that wasn't the focus. If I were George, I'd accept that. Trump says he finds Randal to be a bit low-key, and wonders whether Randal has that subtle quality that makes you fit for business in this "most vicious city." Josh says Randal has a great résumé, is balanced, and has a phenomenal instinct, but once redirected by Trump, says that Randal has the strength to "survive and thrive" in the Trumpanies.
Trump says something kind of cool and kind of weird now to Toral about how when Rebecca stood up for Toral, "Everybody was upset, and couldn't get it, and didn't get it...but I got it. I understood it." The creepiness of this, where just for a second Rebecca is Trump and Trump is Markus. "It was dangerous, but she showed loyalty and toughness. I LOVED IT." James agrees that Rebecca's loyalty and integrity are "unmatched." Trump: "I LOVED IT." Toral gives a little speech, here recounted: "This is someone I've seen from start to finish. I was there when her ankle was broken, and I was in the hospital room with her. She was extremely hurt -- I know she wanted to cry, but she didn't -- despite the tremendous pain. She has been through one of the most stressful competitions there can be, [and] she's done it with tremendous grace. And that also is a great example of someone who can lead an organization." I added punctuation to that, which Toral left out, because Trump has never let Toral finish a sentence in this entire season, so she said it all at once. Then something happens, and I'm not going to make a big deal about it, but Toral goes, "I think Rebecca is a better human being than I am." Ouch. Even Trump is like, "You just said a mouthful."
But there's something else there, something kind of heartbreaking, because how the fuck do you say that? Ever? I'm not arguing that it's true, I just think it's a long, long way to reach to make your point. The ground you're standing on, that is the ground you own. And you don't give that up. No matter what. Not for rhetoric, not for drama, not for effect. You don't step off that piece of ground, because then you've got nothing. Hearing and seeing Toral Mehta, who's got a lot going on that is honestly pretty great, and who has been smooshed into the dirt at every opportunity by you and me and Trump and everybody, and who has defended that square of land with a lot more arrogance and bullshit that we could have previously imagined, hearing her say that is kind of like opening your linen closet only to find a deep, dark Malkovich hole that extends into infinity, and it smells like absolute absence, and that's the most horrible thing I can think of. It's like dividing by zero: mathematics itself is creeped out by that shit. This is a person whose entire personality is that she's better than anyone else, ever. Take that away and what have you got?
Whatever, she's Søren's problem now. Remember the Umeboshi. So Chris is like, "Rebecca's 23 years old and nothing fazes that woman." He employs a really garbled "scale of one to ten" metaphor to basically say that things were very good, and then Piscopo happened, and things were worse, and then things got better. Trump wonders exactly how she did handle "the union problem," and Chris is great: "She brushed it off her shoulder and moved forward...Rebecca absolutely performed in this task from start to finish. She's the oldest 23-year-old woman I've ever met in my life." Word. Trump goes, "So basically, I'm stuck with two stars...and I want to thank you, because you're all stars as well," and then they leave. Everybody smiles, and Trump fucking pontificates, and the returnees smile at Rebecca and Randal and Josh (duh) embraces Randal and Mark hugs Rebecca and everybody's awesome. Even the body language is way different about Toral as they all crowd onto the elevator, and it's beautiful, and Rebecca sees them off and then sits back down on the couch.
THE END! THE END! THE END!
Wrong again. Even as we speak, somewhere Tommy Kirk's loading up his shotgun, because some-body's got the hydro-phobia, and Melania's at Lincoln Center looking freakishly like Rebecca Jarvis, and Trump's still screaming: "What people say in the suite doesn't matter to me! It doesn't mean a damn thing! Everything changes in the Boardroom! Take a look at this!" And he shouts this not just in an outdoor voice but like he's angrier than he's ever been. His whole affect is so screwed up. Back at the final Boardroom, which was months and months ago in actuality -- the whole season has already taped, for Pete's sake -- Robin finally sends them both in.
Trump asks in the o'erweening tension why Randal deserves to work for him, and why Rebecca deserves to work for him, and they give the same answers we've already heard: Randal has distinguished himself the entire time with an undefeated record, his peers consistently chose him to draft, he had two exemptions, great track record, gigantic experience, academic background, professional accomplishments; Rebecca is loyal, honest, an individual who "goes against the grain" and is unafraid to stand up for her beliefs, has this broken ankle we've not heard a whole lot about, and beyond that has been consistently "touted" by executives and team members, and even when she was on the losing team -- which honestly was like every week -- has been "touted" by execs and team members.
Trump's like, "That's all well and good but I really liked it when Randal met me at the chopper, because I've a five-year-old boy who's been naughty and deserves a spanking, and you didn't do that, so you're an asshole." Rebecca doesn't blink. Well, her eyes blink, but not like that. Not figuratively. I would have had to bite my tongue so hard to keep from saying, "I fucking paid the price for it, too." He goes on and on about this: "I guess you could blame the ankle, but you should have delegated somebody…" and she's like, "I agree with you, Mr. Trump." He tells Randal that the locker room was bullshit, and Randal tells him it was the best available, and that the VIPs certainly preferred it to standing outside in the cold. Good answer.
Trump brings up the money issue, and Rebecca again explains that the Yahoo! people were explicit about their discomfort with raising funds at a fundraising event, and George is like, "You could have come up with something else." Carolyn wonders why Rebecca ignored the charity to the degree that she did, and Rebecca is like, "The entire time, I was trying to please my client. Apparently I made a mistake…" I'd like to see how that sentence ended, frankly. Was she being snarky or just admitting that she misread the task? Trump interrupts, though: "But who was your client? Is Yahoo! your client? I don't think so." But…she clearly did. Like, in her head, in her mind, that was her take. Randal's very damn helpful here: "In my estimation the client for this task was actually the charity," with which Trump agrees, because he just said that. Trump requires that Rebecca admit that she fucked this up, and she does, looking more broken than anything.
Trump tells Randal that he's "not as happy" with the job Randal did this week, comparatively, and Randal makes that same dropped-jaw, eyes-wide face he always makes when people question him. It's starting to look like it goes on a spectrum somewhere between surprisingly arrogant and deeply disingenuous, frankly, because it's the same face every time: shock, and fear, and bewilderment than anyone could possibly judge him less than 100% Gold-Star Best In Class. And this for a critique as weak as "your awesomeness was not as spectacular as usual"? Trump says Randal's had "better tasks," and we get the face again. And you know what, Randal is I think just that great, that a person has probably not said anything less than totally approving to him in a very long time, his degrees and his exemplary performance at all times are the shell he carries and lives in. Which is fantastic, and deserved. But the downside is that one shot across the bow, after ten years of praise, can really fuck you up. It's ontologically difficult, like somebody telling you that in fact, the Third Law of Motion is not and has never been true, and then demonstrating this by flicking you on the nose, and you go flying through the wall and into the street. It hurts your actual universe.
Trump flicks once more, this time on the subject of how auctions work and how, as a bidder, you need to know all the things getting auctioned so that you don't blow your wad on something stupid and have to pass up your heart's desire a few minutes later. George again brings up how the celebrities weren't onstage, and Randal gives a good supplemental answer to Mark's good answer, which is that it was cool to have them mixed in with the crowd, basically. The way he says it, you get there. Carolyn again brings up how the weather can now be forecasted, and Randal admits that they'd heard there was a 30% chance of showers, and Carolyn totally scoffs: "If it was TEN I'd have a Plan B." Randal weakly argues that there were the "beginnings" of a Plan B, and Carolyn and George totally attack him on how this is not exactly true, forcing him to retreat to the whole "…but we pulled it together in record time!" thing. Trump laughs that he's seen Carolyn do that plenty -- but changes his tune when he gets a look at her face. "…But she always has a Plan B. We get rained out a lot, don't we, Carolyn?" Right, because: golf. "A little bit," she murmurs sweetly, "but we always have a plan." Trump then begins naming letters in the alphabet: "Plan B, and C, and D…"
So really, why shouldn't he hire Rebecca, Trump asks Randal. (THE END!) Randal mentions that -- as he's worked closely with her, Mr. Trump -- he has located areas that still need development. She's relatively young, and she has a 1-2 losing record as PM, and was given up to Excel when her PM was asked the names of the weakest team members. (Which, to be honest, was just Alla Blovening off the last of the Toral residue, but the contrast with his constant demand still stands.) All of these things are true, and frankly, I've not seen her lead very much. The first time, she was kind of a bloody mess, the XM task she had Clay actively fucking with her and didn't effectively combat this -- she wasn't a target because Clay was so unappealing as a person -- and the last task, she was only nominally PM anyway. But she's done a hell of a lot (and was praised for it on both Dick's and the Star Wars task), and she gives better Boardroom than anyone in the history of the game, which is pretty important, and is the reason both Trump and I like her so much. (And if Alla hadn't played so rough and gotten fired, we would have gotten interviews, and she would have kicked ass on those too, being a better speaker than Randal and a better person than Alla.)
Trump asks Rebecca the complementary question, prefaced by the following statements: Randal is "a star," has that MIT degree, is a Rhodes Scholar, and is a "star" again, and a "wonderful leader." The subtext: tread lightly. While Rebecca has tons of respect for Randal, Rebecca feels that his "Achilles heel" is "overthinking, at times." He doesn't focus on "the bigger picture," the "most important elements," and by focusing on detail, "misses the point on the larger picture." Which kind of fits with my main problem with Randal, which is that I've never seen him do anything, and just like I think with Markus, this is usually in real life due to a hyper-focus on details to the exclusion of point-by-point task annihilation. She calls attention to what she calls his weakness with "determining what is central" to accomplishing his objective -- and Randal more and more loudly protests through this -- as opposed to "what is additional" that may or may not add value. "How can you win three tasks and be undefeated as PM if you don't know the objective? The fact is, Rebecca, that you were one and two." Rebecca reiterates that she respects Randal, a great deal.
George, per Trump's request, sums up what the two did right: They both had a very difficult task and rose to the occasion, with only minor drawbacks. George pleads "no question" about whether or not they are "both stars," and says they are both excellent choices. If you're keeping score? That's I think four times we've mentioned that "both" of them are stars, or good choices for the Apprentice. Just noting that for later. Carolyn says that they both "did a lot right," and that they share a gift for motivating their teams: "Every team member respected them, as a matter of fact." She says that Yahoo!/Glaser went really well, and that Randal, running behind, got things done in a small amount of time, with everybody having fun, and everybody was motivated to actually make money. Which, if you don't speak Connecticut, I'll translate: what Carolyn just said was, "Randal Pinkett is the Apprentice." Trump tells them they are brilliant and have tremendous futures ahead of them, and throws them out of the Boardroom. (THE END! THE END!) Some NBC voice tells us that we're now really live and not going anywhere at Lincoln Center, "where anything can happen." Finally. I mean, "No!"
Trump can't even intro Rebecca's biography without reference to the damned ankle, and Rebecca takes us on a short trip through her life as a financial journalist in Chicago, in which her favorite thing is the interaction with people from all walks of life (an art dealer, a fund manager, a mortgage guy). Rebecca loves her job best because, "as a reporter, I take something esoteric and make it into something that matters to just about anyone." I totally dig that, and it bears out in her work on this show: Here's a crazy thing. Make it work and tell me about it. She also continues her work with Pivot Consulting, which consults for nonprofits, and we see her meeting with lots of nonprofit people, who it is confirmed all have a similar look, and she mentions several times the Sue Duncan Children's Center in particular. She wants to hear Mr. Trump say she's hired, because "by saying that, he gets someone who brings a drive for absolute success every single day to the workplace."
She comes out with HUGE STUPID HAIR and her cute family claps for her, and it's really weird to see her on her feet, but not as weird as the gigantic ridiculous hair that -- she looks ravishing. But the hair! So BIG! She greets the Board, and sits and looks amazing, and Trump says she looks "really great" without the crutches, which is weird, and they agree that it's been a long, long time. "It's been a while but it feels great to be back on two feet, Mr. Trump." He congratulates her, and then we learn about Randal's life.
"Smart guy, Rhodes scholar, Oxford, MIT. Do you know what that means? It means serious -- serious -- education." He's also an "outstanding entrepreneur" and "a leader, a great leader," and Randal tells us about founding BCT Partners five years ago with his college classmates. BCT does management consulting, IT consulting, and policy research, just like the worst company I ever worked for in my entire life, and he talks to the staff about pharmaceutical consulting they've done, and diversifying their business. Randal explains that his role is mostly in business development, and a bunch of stuff clicks into place in your head, all at once. Cut to him "cultivating relationships" and handing out business cards and all that stuff, and then at home with his adorable wife and their beautiful smiles. He says that he wants to go from running a multimillion-dollar company to a multi-billion-dollar company, and then (contrast with the above, please) says that he wants to hear Mr. Trump say he's hired, because he will then scream at the top of his lungs, and his dream will have come true. He will have won, in other words. He enters the studio to lots of yelling and a million signs in the audience reading "We Love Randal!" He shakes the hands of the board and ignores Rebecca altogether, and the candidates cheer his name, and Rebecca smiles graciously.
Trump calls them "two tough cookies" and points out again that we are looking at two individuals out of millions of applicants, and then goes after Toral again. "Toral, you took a lot of abuse -- and I think deservedly so, to be honest with you." This is why I carry a fucking blowgun. Are you kidding me with this shit? "Toral, you're a national joke, and I think that's not only hilarious but completely great!" And she...laughs. Everybody laughs. I want to cry. Remember the Umeboshi! "Mr. Trump, as a woman in business, I am extremely proud to support a woman like Rebecca, who is honest…" Trump interrupts: "You better support her! Boy, did she support you!" You know that one uncle who told you when you were six that you looked like a baby bird or something? And now, twenty years later, still with the same joke, and you kind of want to stab him a little bit with a fork because the second he sees you, you know what he's going to say? Dear Awkward Old Men Who Can't Relate To Other People: Please make a new joke the time you see us. Love, Everybody. Once is funny, twice is silly, three times you get the blowgun.
Toral just keeps going. "Sir, Rebecca is smart, honest, trustworthy…" Trump interrupts: "Better than Randal?" She takes a second to steel herself, and then says with this kind of terrifying, kind of Lamborghini Motherfucker barely-suppressed rage, "She is better than Randal." Everybody, including Trump, is like, "Whoa!" Because Randal is obviously going to win, but also because she said this in a way which approximated a really large blowgun of sentiment. Fucking Alla pipes up, off-camera, "Biased opinion!" I'll deal with you in a sec, lady.
"Rebecca has the qualities of a great leader, Mr. Trump. She is a hard --" Again with the interruptions. What the hell? "I love the way you're defending her, because she defended you." (Remember? Like I said five seconds ago?) "And I love what you're doing." Toral: "Mr. Trump, she is a diamond in a haystack." I'm guessing she's just a bit tongue-tied, but she's mangled simple colloquialisms like this before, I think. "This is the first time I like you, Toral." She laughs again. Everybody laughs. Fuck. It really, really bothers me, this. It's like his only shtick tonight: Yell, yell, remind Toral's she's a worthless piece of crap, yell some more. Umeboshi or not, that's some bullshit.
Marshawn opines that there's never been "an easier choice for the Trump organization," that Randal "exemplifies strong education, experience, ethics" and has "garnered the respect of every single person on this stage," and he "exemplifies excellence in everything that he does." Mr. Trump, Marshawn does not "see how you can have another choice." The crowd goes wild. Jenthura's got gigantic hair (is there something going on, like barometrically, at the Lincoln Center? Something I'm not aware of? Because Trump's hair got smaller, and it's confusing!) and says this: "I love both of them, but I have to say, from the moment I first met Randal I became a huge Randal fan, and as you can see -- every single episode, he has the people skills that a leader needs. Not just because of his education and experience, he's just a natural leader! He has the biggest heart! You can see it in his eyes! He's incredible." She even gets a little Zenthura tongue-tied in the middle of it, but manages to steer herself through this little speech, which says a lot of true things about Randal but even more things about her, and she nearly starts crying about how great Randal is, and I just really love her.
Trump, opting to "stay with the women," as he says, moves to Alla: "You've been terrific, and you really did a good job -- you almost made it! -- so what do you think?" There's a smattering of applause, but I'm kind of horrified by the "you almost made it" part. Accentuating the positive is not exactly an acquired taste, for people who are authentically happy, and yet Trump's just -- in this very friendly, glad-handing way -- handing out bummers left and right. (And he's so not even done, y'all.) "Mr. Trump, you know me -- I'm all about the facts. I had the privilege of working with both Rebecca and Randal... To me, Rebecca is not even in the same league as Randal, and I speak the truth! I worked with Rebecca -- and no offense here, Rebecca -- I saw literally nothing out of her." Alla manages to get a sad face out of Rebecca with that one. And, combined with the pointless Felisha abuse in the Boardroom, manages to get me completely over her with this. You're not "speaking the truth" if you're not saying anything, any more than you're "dressing for success" when you dress like Bai Ling's horny, addled grandmother, you sick, withered, bitter, proto-geriatric freak.
Uh, "no offense."
Everybody else, including Trump again, is like, "Whoa!" Alla's not done. "That's why I traded her as the weakest link." The crowd kind of revolts, and she's like, "You guys may not think so, but…" Randal looks unimpressed and a little sad at this, and Trump has to tell the crowd to settle down, and he addresses Alla: "I mean, you're known as a tough cookie, but...that's getting a little too tough, isn't it?" And kind of unnecessary? Why can't she act more like Marshawn, I guess is my question. No, my real question is this: Why, out of 16 people, is Alla automatically going to the negative? Everybody else: "Randal is great," "Rebecca is great." Alla: "Rebecca is worthless." Says a lot, I think. But also, couldn't you think of something nice to say about Randal? Is he on your radar at all? And I think she gets that Trump is just going to fight her on it as long as she does this, so she switches track: "I'm telling you the truth: Randal has been outstanding. He's somebody that takes control of a situation…" But Trump's still stuck on the negative campaign: "I know, but so is Rebecca outstanding." There are cheers, and Rebecca just looks sad some more. "I didn't see it," says Alla.
There are now a stupid Apprentice Filler "Moment" (a clip of the quadruple firing), commercials, and Randalites freaking out live in Newark -- he smiles and is gratified -- and then Trump introduces Dan Rosensweig, the COO of Yahoo!, who's sitting in the front row with Hazy Shade, Bill, and (I guess) Kendra. Dan tells us that Yahoo! loves charities, especially charities called "Autism Speaks" and "The Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation," and that unfortunately, against the wishes of Yahoo!, there wasn't a huge outpouring of money like they thought there would be. Dan announces their donation of $100,000, to be split between the two charities, and Hazy Shade applauds this, and he says they just "want these kids to get the money they deserve," and hopes Trump's audience will also donate generously. Which is awesome no matter how you look at it, wins all around, so who cares about the obvious mechanics of this. Rebecca nods at him excitedly and all you can see is her mountain of hair, and the while her hair is still just as shiny and aggressively pretty, it's just...kind of Barbarella now. Not so Super Spy Lady.
Trump talks about the two yooge potential jobs for the Apprentice, and this part confuses me every year. Whichever one the Apprentice takes, the other one...what? Lies fallow? Or the runner-up gets it? But then why would he say...never mind. I couldn't care less, to be honest, about this part. The first one is a $400M condo project called "Trump Plaza Jersey City," which will be a double "architectural jewel" and will have "breathtaking views of the Hudson and Liberty State Park" and will be a "beautiful testament to high-end luxury building and design." The other one is a tripartite expansion/renovation on Trump's three Atlantic City casino/hotels (the Taj Mahal, the Marina, and the other one), which actually sounds like more fun, because it's entertainment and expansion, rather than residential and ground-up building. He tells them he'd like their decisions first, "before" he makes his mind up for sure, and Randal replies glibly that the Atlantic City project seems to hold the "greatest promise and greatest impact" for the Trumpanies as a whole. Grandma has questions about this, I think. ["So do I. Let's start with this one: Has Randal been to A.C.? Because…I mean, he's going to have to live there, functionally, which…in theory, yes, take the casino job. In practice…." -- Sars] Rebecca says that Atlantic City sounds very expensive and fun, and wishes Trump the best with it, but expresses a preference for the Jersey City one. Everybody claps, Trump says that makes things easier, I still have no idea what any of them are talking about.
Trump asks Rebecca whether it's possible that Randal is overeducated, and Rebecca explains that she would never undermine education, but that it's a matter of what you do with it. Specifically, that you know what you're doing, and then that you do it. Huh. Stupid question, content-free answer. Randal "would add, Mr. Trump, that [he runs] a multimillion-dollar consulting firm, BCT Partners," so the fact of his "five academic degrees" is "overshadowed by the fact that" he's run five companies. "So we have to keep that in mind." Randal answering questions nobody asked, that's like a nervous tic, and I think it comes from way over-rehearsing, which itself arises from the fact that he taped this shit a hundred years ago and has spent every day since then being told this is his to lose.
Trump then asks Randal whether Rebecca is "tough" enough to be working "in the world that we're talking about," and Randal thinks that she's maybe not experienced enough to work in "the world we're talking about," not to mention that she "has yet to demonstrate she can effectively lead a team to victory." That's what you call First Blood. George's mic is messed up, but what he says here is, "He didn't ask if she was experienced, he asked if she was tough enough." Randal says that Rebecca has "shown toughness," but he doesn't think she's got "enough for the job we're talking about today." Carolyn tells Randal he's been outstanding since day one, and that "for the most part," and he goes right into that face again, he's led his team very well. Her hair is also huge. "However, I can't believe you didn't check the weather," she says, and cracks herself up. This is a farce. This is where it turns into wrestling.
Trump asks why Randal should be the Apprentice, and Randal offers three reasons. The first is that everybody loves him. He turns to the past candidates and says the following words, my emphasis: "If you believe that I should be the sole and single Apprentice tonight, please stand." Interesting. Because this is both live and bullshit, the standing occurs in near-complete darkness, but I'm told that all but Toral and Adam stood. Rebecca's like, Hmmm. He tries to tell Trump the other two reasons, including the record he's already been practicing and saying, but Trump cuts him off. "Enough, enough."
Rebecca, same question: "Mr. Trump, you've said that if there's a concrete wall in front of you, walk right through it. Well, Mr. Trump, the reason I'm here today -- the reason I started this candidate interview, the reason I've made successes throughout my entire life -- is because I've completely pushed my way -- I've charged my way through those concrete walls in my life, Mr. Trump. At fifteen years old I founded a nonprofit. I raised $750,000 [the cheering starts]. I worked with Colin Powell and Al Gore on that nonprofit, and gained the respect of 265 communities throughout the state of Minnesota. I've changed thousands of…" SO ANGRY, this last. Or just a whole new stage of Rebecca intensity, like, plasma of Rebecca.
Does she think she's better than Randal? "As an Apprentice, I think absolutely, Mr. Trump." She's so hardcore that the table starts to shake. The lights swing back and forth. She looks at all the exit doors, and they all slam shut. Randal begs to differ, Mr. Trump, and in fact, "I run businesses, Rebecca writes about business." There are low rumblings, a mix of cheering and WTF. "There's no comparison in our academic background, no comparison in our professional experience, and I have an undefeated record, Mr. Trump, she has a 1 and 2 record, and a losing team record." George, either because he's got something to say, or because he's as embarrassed by this needless and startlingly rehearsed information as we are, starts to ask about Randal's record, but Trump cuts him off for commercial, and we never hear what George was thinking.
Apprentice Filler Moment of Alla shitting on Felisha, commercials, drunks cheering for Rebecca in Chicago, Becky! Becky! Becky!, Rebecca smiling intensely, no idea what went on during this break. I really hope Trump told Randal to get a firmer grip on his horses, because as usual, he's coming off as mechanized and glib, blurting whatever trite and true business homily -- or in this case, true fact about the competition -- that fits the occasion, but he's not a versatile enough speaker to sand off the rough edges first. He stood in the mirror, smiled at himself, and asked himself three questions: "Why should you be the Apprentice?" "What makes you better than Rebecca?" and "Why not hire you both?" And he practiced, and he practiced, until he could do them in his sleep, and Trump's playing absolute havoc with this, because he keeps cutting him off and asking other questions, and so the leftover pieces of his three very long, very polished, very good answers are just getting jammed wherever, and it's so nerve-wracking, because I guarantee you if he'd spent the last six months or whatever dining out and forgetting all about this crap but for watching himself on the screen every week with a beer, he could have walked in the room and commanded it, but instead he comes off really disjointed and, frankly, weirdly aggressive and unaware of the conversational flow, when what he's actually unaware of is anything beyond not spazzing the hell out.
Trump talks for thousands of years. Slightly condensed: Trump wants good people around him, it's his keystone principle. While many people enjoy The Apprentice as the sensationalist, LCD-edited, crap reality-TV product it totally is, for Trump it is Real Life No Fooling, and that means this is all very damned important and not just Survivor with pinstripe suits and jet rides. Which it totally is. He reiterates this several times. Trump has never seen an educational background like Randal's, which could whup Trump's in two seconds flat, and as Rebecca would say, education is something to respect. Likewise, he thinks that Rebecca has a great education, is very smart, handles pressure amazingly well, broke her ankle -- "In all fairness, Randal, she broke an ankle," he says, and Randal makes a really ugly face for a second -- and Trump believes that given this, most people (male or female, he abhorrently notes) would run home to Mom. "Is that right?" They're both like, "Kinda?" But Rebecca, "she never thought about it. Did you?" Lots of cheering, lots more of Randal's shockingly ugly faces he's suddenly making, lots of Rebecca shaking her head intensely. No she did not. Trump loved the way she handled pressure through the entire fifteen weeks (fifteen, now) -- nobody better. Randal is just openly pissed now. Trump is a bit dubious about Rebecca's loyalty to Toral (even though moments ago he "got" it), but resolves this momentary tension in a split second: "Ultimately your loyalty was really wonderful." Just fucking get there, old man. You're not even making sense.
"Randal, you're an amazing leader. Amazing." Everybody cheers. "And you lead through niceness; I mean, you really lead through example, and I think you'd be the first to admit that, Rebecca." Of course, she agrees. It's true! Trump remembers how, four or five times, people always drafted Randal when they could, he'd never seen anything like it. (Neither did we, because we didn't actually get to see him in action for the entire first half, and rarely after, and only assumed his awesomeness from the fact that every single candidate adored him and did everything he said.) "Rebecca, you're outstanding. Randal, you're hired."
Cheering, music, his huge grin, Randal shaking hands with everybody, the Viceroys, Trump, Rebecca, running over to the candidates to celebrate, Josh of course, Josh always and forever, how can you help yourself, it's all very exciting. And this is where I stop writing, every time, because there's a lot to navigate and it's all kind of ugly and it hurts my feelings, frankly, and I don't like talking about this kind of thing and...let's do it like a quiz.
Who Are You?
A. An applicant for a real live $250,000-salary job
B. A contestant on a somewhat degrading and heartless game show
C. The first Person Of Color to become The Apprentice
D. The presumptive winner from the first episode -- which you've now watched, and every episode following
E. A participant in a reality television show, in which every second of your life is taped
F. The first African-American to become a Rhodes Scholar out of Rutgers
G. A person with the ability to achieve three masters degrees and a doctorate by 34; a person driven, for whatever reason, to do just this
H. A Credit To Your Race
I. A performer in a live broadcast reaching almost 13 million people, a sizeable portion of whom are African-American, and watching it because you're on it
J. A ringer: your vast qualifications, experience and skills so outweigh the other sixteen candidates' that you'd have to fuck up really, really bad to lose this one
K. A former sports hero (NCAA Academic All-American in track and field)
L. The Black Guy, a lot of the time. In past offices, in classes, in places you'd really expect otherwise. Still.
M. Universally beloved and elevated practically to television sainthood, barring one regrettable megaphone incident that made even Trump and George laugh
N. A participant in a television show that has consistently hired crazy black people, or treated its black contestants as though they were crazy
O. A Poster Guy for People You Don't Even Know
P. Triply-screwed, because anything you accomplish comes with a tiny little almost-invisible question mark that questions the validity of your accomplishments
Q. A person for whom extemporaneous speaking is difficult at best
R. Inextricably bound to your race, always signifying it, always being signified by it, kind of tired of telling white people it's okay, kind of sick of trying to draw the line for every single white person about what is okay and what's not, sick of trying to explain it, sick of trying to figure it out in your own head even, sick of biting your tongue so that you don't explain to very nice people that you like that bullshit like "I don't even see race as a factor" is the ultimate white privilege, and a fucking lie to boot, sick of feeling like you're invisible until people -- who are vastly less intelligent than you are -- know about the five degrees and the Oxford thing and that whole pile of crap, sick of your relatives looking at you funny like you're not black enough, sick to death and tired of everything that's said, and not said, and sick of having to justify that which is neither justifiable nor necessary to justify, sick of measuring your every accomplishment against this hypothetical black kid who, seeing you on TV, is supposedly going to realize what a mountain of elbow grease can get you, and so, so sick of white writers trying desperately to even comprehend what life is actually like for you without hitting these mine fields of Otherization and Fetishization and God forbid, Identification
S. The fourth Apprentice
T. Drawing a line through your whole life, starting somewhere pretty rough and rising, every day, pushing harder, and seeing that this is where it led: You win. Rock star.
Answer Key: All of them. At once. And those are just the nice-to-pretty-shitty ones, the ones I feel okay about typing with my own two hands. Most of them probably forever.
Essay Question:
In 750 words or less, tell me how you're feeling right now. I know you don't think on your feet, it's like the one calculus your mutant brain can't do, and I know you probably don't really have a set speech for this, so take your time. And hey, congratulations!
So you've got Trump wiggling his weltanschauung at you like some kind of playground creep, begging you to implicate yourself, you've got Jentethno and Mark cheering crazily, Adam clapping spasmotically and adorably because he likes Rebecca, Toral clapping from the nosebleed seats where she's not even in the frame, Alla and Felisha screaming "No!" for no reason other than that they are disgusting, not because they've rationally decided Rebecca hasn't earned it, but that ship sailed weeks ago, months ago, and you've got Josh yelling something, positive or negative undecipherable, giggling with Brian and somebody in the crowd, Brian trying to catch Jenthura's eye while screaming like a hooligan, Rebecca smiling over at you affectionately, Clay looking pissy, Brian and Jenthura and Mark laughing and feeling weirded out, Markus with no idea what's going on at all, not sure if he's supposed to stand up again or clap or yell or what, and the camera swings on you, Randal, looking gobsmacked, because this is moving really, really fast, and nobody can believe Trump's doing this.
So Randal falls back to Answer Number Three, which he's been practicing ever since that last Boardroom when they kept calling them equally stars and all that bullshit, which sounded a lot less shitty in his head, because in his head Trump didn't call Randal the winner and then take it away, and nobody got hurt because Rebecca had a job unrelated to the contest, like Andy from that other season, but now, with this atmosphere that he can't entirely read, it sounds weirder than he thinks: "Mr. Trump. Mr. Trump, I firmly believe that this is the Apprentice, that there is one and only one apprentice," and the crowd starts getting upset, and Felisha yells at them to shut up, and Brian's still trying to hit on Jenthura, and Markus still has no idea, and Toral gets weird, and Josh and Clay start clapping, "and if you're going to hire someone tonight, it should be one. It's not the Apprenti, it's the Apprentice." The candidates laugh, everybody laughs, there's a small awww from the audience. Alla goes nuts. Trump: "Okay, all right, I'm going to leave it at that then. I think I could have been convinced, but you feel that's the way it should be?" Which is Bad Daddery, in my house: "Well, folks, we were going to have ice cream, I myself was very excited, but somebody isn't going to cooperate, soooo…"
Felisha laughs nastily and claps her hands as Randal agrees that this is how it should be, and Trump agrees to leave it that way. This is not Randal-love, this is something else entirely, on facial expression alone, this is...really missing the fucking point, I know that much. Rebecca shakes her head tinily, and Alla cheers and whoops, and Josh claps, and we get real close on Rebecca, nodding sadly: "Wow."
Because let's talk about Rebecca for a second: there's no agenda here. There's no subterfuge. She knew what she could and could not go up against him with, and chose to reroute the questions so that she deflected the stuff she didn't want to talk about, and did this skillfully, because her by far largest asset in this game has been her Boardroom magic skills, and at no time was this a black/white thing for her; because that's her side of white privilege, she didn't really have to worry about that, but she's got her own alphabet that's actually very, very close to Randal's, if you trade some words out, like "Donald Trump thinks you're hot" is just an anagram of "affirmative action got you here." And she's just as fucked, and just as let down, by this bullshit. This is a woman with honor, who knew going in she was going to lose to Randal, and gave it her best, and kept focus on her potential and her talent and off her experience, for the most part, and only got scary a couple of times, but come on. She knew. And then to get dicked around, one more time, by Trump. I like to think she's not just realizing that Randal just screwed her, that she realizes how Byzantine this shit just got, but I can't say that for sure. I just really, really like her.
What we've learned: People aren't metaphors. They're people, and we know that. But Trump's tried to create some kind of living theatre art here for us, and maybe we'd be wise to check out the rich white guy holding the strings, the one who just managed to screw them both out of being the Apprentice, just for the kicks of trying something he'd never done before.
Brian finally catches Jenthura's eye, and they bond over a hot cup of OMG, and Markus invents a new kind of clapping where he pokes the fingers of one hand into the palm of the other, over and over and over. Randal is again congratulated, and Adam looks perturbed, and Rebecca murmurs, "That's unfortunate," and who would disagree with that, and her mic goes dead, they both shake the hands of the Viceroys and stuff and sit there awkwardly until the lights go crazy and Randal heads out into the crowd, and Toral hugs Rebecca and Melissa acts weird and Adam is still perturbed and Jentethno is so happy to be there and Alla is screaming something, with no idea how over her I really am. I can't see Rebecca anywhere, but I keep looking.
Trump's mic is still live. It picks up his voice: "Did you like that?"
There's not an answer.