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It's 1963, and as Don heats up some warm milk for a very pregnant Betty, he has visions of both his real and adopted mother and the circumstances in which he passed from the former to the latter, and let's just say I understand him changing his given name a lot more now. Betty's pretty sure she's carrying a girl, who I hope for her sake will be heterosexual, and Don helps her sleep using his way with words.
Peggy's got her own office and secretary, but the latter, "Lola," is too busy swooning over the new English accents in the office to pay her much mind. To be more specific, there's a "Lane Pryce," the new big on-site boss, and his executive secretary, "John Hooker," who hasn't taken long to clash with Joan. Of course, he's rather good-looking, so perhaps their mutual disdain will blossom into something else down the line -- if Joan's still at Sterling Cooper, which is apparently not her current plan. There are still layoffs happening in the wake of the merger, one of which is the axing of the Head of Accounts, and Pryce gives Pete the job -- only to turn around and also promise it to Ken. The two of them have a hilarious elevator conversation in which they each think the other is congratulating him, but Pete's not laughing when he finds out that he and Ken are going to share the title he's coveted for so long and compete with each other for the brass ring, and he basically tells Ken to piss off, while Ken's jazzed about the new responsibility and couldn't care less about Pete's little hissy.
Don and Sal take a business trip together, and before they've even hit the ground they've made a date with some gullible stewardesses, one of whom accompanies Don back to his room. Disappointingly, he takes her to bed, but it is at least his birthday. Meanwhile, in action I approve of a lot more, Sal calls for a guy to come fix his air conditioner and ends up getting his pipes cleaned instead. Well, not quite -- before the deal can actually be sealed in either room, the fire alarm goes off, and not only does Sal not get his rocks off, Don sees him with the hotel staffer on his way down the fire escape. However, as Peggy well knows, if there's someone you can trust with your secrets, it's Don, and Sal's relieved as all get out when Don doesn't make an issue of it. Don ends the episode by assuring Sally he's always come home, but as Betty tells Sally about the day she was born, Don's a million miles away. Here we go again!
Want more? The full recap starts right below! Welcome to Season Three! I'm loving how much great press the show's getting, aren't you? I can only hope the ratings see a spike because of it. All that said, this episode didn't grab me quite the way most of them have up to this point on first viewing, but it rather grew on me the second time around. Also, I thought last season's premiere was a little underwhelming too, and we know how that turned out. Anyway, let's get to it.We start as usual with some close-ups: Pajama bottoms leading down to bare feet in front of a refrigerator; a burner on an electric stove coming to life in the dark; the lights flipping on as a pan is placed on top of the heated metal. Don, smoking a cigarette (guess that recurring cough he had last season hasn't worsened), pours some milk into the pot and idly stirs it, but his attention focuses when he hears some muffled crying. He looks up, and in front of him is a scene from the past: A woman in her late thirties, I'm guessing, is lying on a bed, shaky both physically and emotionally due to the fact that she's just delivered a stillborn, apparently not for the first time. She wonders why God has forsaken her, but the person to whom she's talking, a woman of a somewhat more advanced age, firmly tells her that God will give her a child. Her faith must be pretty strong for her to deliver that statement with such authority while holding a basin containing God's latest failed attempt. The would-be mother insists on taking a peek at the corpse, and after she does so, a surly, rugged man enters and snits, "So you killed another one." The midwife snaps back that possibly if he'd "get off her" every once in a while things like this wouldn't happen, and I agree, not just because it would relieve the physical strain but because the kid might be less inclined to commit suicide in utero were she less sure that Archie was going to be her father. Yes, these are the younger Archie and Abigail Whitman (played by the same actors they've always been), and I guess it's nice of the show to give us a reminder of how screwed up a childhood Don had before they make him into a big old cheater. Again. Archie growls at the midwife, who vamooses...
...and then after a cut to Don, the scene has changed, and we see a young man begging a pretty young woman to cut him a discount on her, uh, services. Of course, we know that Don's mother was a prostitute, so it's not a big leap to conclude that this is she. After some discussion about the fact that he doesn't have enough money for a "sheep," she consents to fulfill his needs, but "you get me in trouble, I'm gonna cut your dick off and boil it in hog fat." Looks like Don's gift for flowery speech wasn't inherited, although there's a certain similarity in the number of sexual partners they enjoy. We see Don smile at his mother's sassiness...
...but his amusement fades in a hurry as when we cut over, she's obviously very sick, and from her severe shivering and renewed declarations that she's going to cut the guy's dick off, it seems like the childbirth has caused complications that are going to claim her life, as we already knew. The midwife from earlier asks the new mother if she'd like to hold her son, but she merely repeats her violent intentions...
...at which point the milk bubbles over the edge of the pot. Heh. Don snaps out of his little foray into his imagination (last time they set up a flashback like this, it was actually a memory of his) long enough to take the milk off the boil, but moments later he's right back in it, as he hears an urgent knocking. Turning, he sees Abigail answer the door late at night to find the midwife holding his newborn self in a bassinet. Smiling, she reminds Abigail that she said God would give her a child, but when Abigail asks whose it is, she declines to answer, instead asking if Archie's home. When Abigail now fails to respond, the midwife repeats that God is giving her a child, and adds that his name is Dick, "after a wish his mother should have lived to see." Excuse me while I involuntarily cross my legs. It's a guy thing. Without any need for further convincing, Abigail takes the bassinet from the midwife and withdraws back into the house, leaving Don to contemplate this information that he just...saw? Filled in from information Abigail and Uncle Mack gave him? Imagined? Always, on some level, knew? No time to wonder about that, because the milk is done...
...which he brings up to Betty to try to remedy the fact that she's having trouble sleeping, one possible reason for which is that she's very, very pregnant. She sits up and takes the milk from Don as she explains that whenever she's ready to drop off to sleep, the baby wakes up. Betty seems more chipper about that habit than you'd think, but the earlier scene certainly makes it seem like more of a blessing than it otherwise might. Don notes Betty's use of the feminine pronoun in referring to the baby, pointing out that Betty seems awfully sure of the gender, and Betty smiles in response: "She knows what she wants." She then points across the room and says she packed Don's valise, and he turns and sees it lying open. He offers that he could have done that, like, seriously, woman, this is the time you should be waited on hand and foot while you watch twenty-five hours of soap operas a day! Instead of seeing the wisdom of my words, Betty replies that Don will get a chance to pack the thing again, as the clasp is broken, and Carla told her she saw Sally hitting it with a hammer. "She's taken to your tools like a little lesbian." Hmm, was the "lesbians go to Home Depot" stereotype really that prevalent back then? Regardless, it seems like the writers' goal was to have him laugh at the slight on gays so as to make his attitude later seem surprising, but I never thought Don of all people would give a shit what consenting adults do. But moving on, Betty finishes the milk and lies back down as Don crawls into bed with her; she wonders if she'll ever sleep again before saying she just wants everything to be perfect for their new daughter's entrance into their home. He tells her to close her eyes, and after she complies, he relaxes her by having her visualize herself on a warm and sandy beach, the faint smell of coconut oil in the air. Betty notes, "You're good at this." Too good -- I knew I shouldn't have tried to recap this scene after dark. Good night!
Ah, that was refreshing. So in her office, Peggy, still sporting the hairdo that Kurt gave her, calls her secretary, "Lola," via the intercom, but the girl doesn't respond, so Peggy has to go outside and find her flirting with a cute but smarmy young Englishman. Peggy sharply calls Lola's name, and Lola clams up but looks defiant instead of chastened. Oh, honey. Despite your name, you are not going to get whatever you want if you displease one Peggy Olson. Cute But Smarmy Brit (his name, as we'll soon learn, is "John Hooker") tells Peggy she looks lovely, and she thanks him, but when she asks if he's there to see her, he says no -- he was just "verifying some information." So that's what the Brits are calling it these days. When he's gone, Lola gushes that he's always stopping by about the strangest things, but it's okay, because she could just listen to him read the phone book. Peggy: "Well, when he gets to 'S', I need Howard Sullivan at Lever Brothers." Hee. I'm telling you, Lola, don't cross her. She'll figure out how to get you fired while mining your life for ad-campaign fodder. Don't say you weren't warned.
In Bertram's office, another Brit, this one older and at the opposite end on the looks spectrum from John Hook
er, pronounces a painting on the wall "remarkable." I'm sure the writer of a description I saw of the painting as "tentacle porn" would agree. (Judge for yourself.) Bertram tells the Brit ("Lane Pryce") that while he picked it for its sensuality (that's one word for it, Grandpa) it also reminds him of their business. Um...they both have sexual harassment that's marginally less disturbing if you keep your eyes closed? Bertram and Pryce go on to wonder whom the man that imagined her "ecstasy" is, but the line suddenly becomes worth it when Don enters and Bertram exclaims, "We were just talking about you!" Hee. Don's in no mood for levity, though, as he nervously tells them that "Burt" is on his way and asks where Roger is. Bertram replies that he's "probably taking another Grecian treasure out of its crate," and I'll be glad when I've gotten used to the move ahead in time, even if it's only to 1963. Which it is, although I don't believe they ever explicitly say it, but you surely didn't think Betty's been pregnant for two years, even if it seems that way to her. Referring to the imminent business trip, Pryce apologizes for sending Don to Baltimore, but says it has to be done - he's the face of their business, and London Fog needs some hand-holding. Pryce then disparages the name, as London never actually had fog, merely lots of coal dust in the air. I don't think it's true that London is completely devoid of fog, but his greater point that the name "London Smog" would be more accurate is taken. A voice on the scratchy intercom then announces Burt Peterson, and when the man enters, it takes him all of three seconds to size up what's going on, asking, in response to Don's offer of a cigarette, if he gets a blindfold too. Heh. Bertram and Don take a sympathetic tack as Burt starts to go to pieces, but Pryce is rather British about the whole thing, handing Burt a check and saying it's generous. Burt is bewildered as to why they waited so long, the implication being that layoffs happened quickly after the merger went through, but Pryce responds that they were aware his wife was undergoing radiation treatments. "We thought it decent to wait." Burt nods in agreement that that was decent, but just when you think this might all be settled quietly, Roger enters, apologizing for being late and cheerfully asking if he missed anything. When he sees the stygian tableau in front of him, though, his face falls: "Oh. It's that meeting." Hee. He does offer an apology, but when he repeats the party line that it "wasn't easy" (Don and Bertram had already said the same thing) Burt chooses to go on the offensive, saying that they won't do so hot without his Rolodex, and that Pryce represents "the dying empire" and makes him sick. He screeches that he's the Head of Accounts (Duck being on Skid Row, a proto-Betty Ford Clinic, or somewhere in between) and Roger replies that he's sure they'll regret their decision. Burt looks at him disbelievingly, and he's like, "What? I was serious!" How I missed John Slattery. Burt leaves, and Don asks if that's the last firing, because he doesn't like how he's getting used to them. Pryce sighs that he doesn't know anything Don doesn't know, and that's probably true or he'd be putting in earplugs right about now.
Harry's babbling to Paul about how taxes are a disincentive to hard work, but before I start to think of warm sandy beaches, Burt loudly announces to his "fellow companions in mediocrity" (i.e., everyone currently on the open floor) that they can all fuck off. He knocks some stuff off a few desks on his way toward his office while Harry repeats some misinformation about Burt's plans, Pete smirks, and Paul wonders if the firings aren't starting again. On cue, Hildy tells Pete that Pryce wants to see him, and Pete almost shits his pants right there as Harry and Paul walk away with "There but for the grace of Brits go I" written all over their faces. Pete stomps off to take his medicine, or so he thinks...
...while John Hooker gets snarled at by Burt: "Drop dead, you Limey vulture!" After Burt enters his office and continues to rail loudly and incoherently and Hooker's all "Well, I never!" for a moment, Joan approaches and snits that she's going to have to dispense psychotherapy to the girls in the typing pool, thanks to his mishandling of the Burt situation. Hooker condescendingly says that "you Americans" can't handle their emotions, but Joan, unbowed, reiterates that Peterson's wife is sick, and if Hooker had merely spoken to his girl, she would have informed him privately, "and if you had talked to me, I would have been waiting with his coat and his Rolodex." Hooker tenuously takes this mention of "decorum" to transition into asking that he be addressed formally by the girls on the switchboard: "I am not 'Jaahn.'" Joan faux-innocently replies that that's how they address the secretaries, and John steps up the condescension as he starts to say that as he's explained, in England...Joan: "A truck is a lorry, and an elevator is a lift. I've got it, Mr. Hooker. Despite your title, you are not a secretary." She just gets more awesome, although so does her dress size. What's with all the padding? Is she still shedding maternity weight? Or is she pregnant again? (For that matter, did she actually have the baby? Don't want to assume anything after that first scene, and I'm thinking if she actually had, she might not still be around, especially given her comment to Peggy later.) He acidly replies that he's "Mr. Pryce's right arm," not his typist. Joan sunnily agrees: "I assume you will let him know when Mr. Peterson has left the building." I appreciate the final slam on Hooker, but unless Pryce is very deaf I think he'll have a handle on that one all by himself.
Pete enters Pryce's office like he's about to open a door in The Lady Or The Tiger, but brightens when the first thing Pryce mentions is Burt's departure. Pryce adds that he likes Pete, although he "can't speak for everyone here," and Pete ignores the possible veiled insult in favor of saying he likes Pryce too. Pryce, bemused, says Pete doesn't know him (but...he knows Pete?) and Pete replies, "But I will make that effort, if given the opportunity!" Let your dreams of the Creative side die, dude. Pete then launches into a stilted and uncomfortable (to watch, anyway) explanation of why he hasn't been more welcoming socially, and Pryce, rather than explain the British social order or even reply "That's okay, really" merely offers Pete a chair. Pete won't be shot with his eyes closed, though, pointing out that he's being asked to sit on the heels of his department head being removed, and Pryce offers an apology for the miscommunication of intentions before coming out with it -- Pete's the new Head of Accounts, although the specifics and announcement are pending. Pete asks if this is truly certain, and Pryce says yes, but slyly puts a finger to his lips. Heh.
Downstairs, Pete asks Hildy to get Trudy on the phone. Once inside his office, he does a little dork-ass celebratory dance, and I (a) feel genuinely happy for his good fortune and (b) snicker at what I know is coming. He's the only character that simultaneously brings out the best and worst in me. Anyway, he pours himself a little drink and then gets on the phone with his wife, who says she's meeting with the Docent's Committee from the Met. When Pete asks how they are, she asks with genuine surprise, "Since when do you care?" Since never, Trudy. He's just in a very good mood. He tells her the happy news, and she's overjoyed even to the point where she gives his early drink a big thumbs-up. However, when Pete muses that he should give his mother a call, she replies, "Oh, Peter. Don't go to the well -- there's no water there." Well, I certainly am willing to believe his mother's life has been a constant uphill battle to rehydrate. Anyway, after Pete blurts that he forgot even to ask the new pay
, they wrap up their happy call...
...unaware that at that moment, Pryce is offering Ken the Head of Accounts job as well. Ken's the mirror image of Pete, flopping into a chair without even waiting to be asked, so it's no surprise that he keeps his head about him a bit better than his counterpart, and offers that he wouldn't be much of an Account man if he didn't ask what the new position pays. Nice little unwitting jab at Pete, but Pryce is too busy delivering this witty rejoinder to notice: "I wouldn't be much of a financial officer if I wasn't prepared to disappoint you." Heh. He tells Ken it's "twenty-one" (still a big raise from what we last knew Ken got), but they'll reevaluate this year (another nice hidden meaning there). Pryce cautions Ken to keep the news to himself, and when Ken sticks out his hand, regards it for a moment like an anthropological curiosity before shaking it. Once Ken's gone, Pryce shakes his head all, "He's worse than the last one." I don't know, Pryce -- at least Ken wasn't deluded enough to think you'd actually want to hang out with him outside the office.
Sal and Don are on the plane down to Baltimore, and Don grouses about an ad for Fleischmann's vodka in which the bottle is depicted rather...largely. After the two of them amusingly mock the ad for a bit, a blonde stewardess (hey, that's what they called them back then) comes over and offers a quick refill of their drinks before they land, calling Don "Mr. Hofstadt" in the process. Don raises his eyebrows, but thinking he's only taken aback that she knew his name, she explains that she saw that his luggage bears the name "William Hofstadt." Don runs with the mistake, telling her to call him "Bill," and then introducing Sal as "Mr. Fleischmann." One more refill and that lie will become the truth. Sal corrects Don to "Sam," and after verifying that they're headed to Baltimore, Blondie invites the two of them out for dinner at a fancy restaurant with, presumably, some of the other airline staff, one of whom apparently has some pull with the maître d'. When they discover they're all staying at the same hotel, the date is set, and Don regards the girl with an old familiar look. Oh, honey. Don't neutralize last season's amazing character arc twenty minutes into the new one! When she's gone, Sal smirks that now Don has to take someone else's luggage, but he explains that the name she supplied is actually his brother-in-law's. "He borrowed a suitcase to go to Puerto Rico, but he never tires of putting his name on other people's things." Sal then offers that he's never seen a stewardess "that game" as Blondie, but that's probably because the slightest overture from one sends him running into the lavatory for the duration of the ride.
Hee hee hee. Ken and Pete see each other at the elevator, and what essentially happens after they get on is that they each pay the other a compliment designed to convey a sense of "Tough luck, kid" but in fact, because of the dual job offering, comes across as "No hard feelings -- the better man won." I can't do justice to it on the page, but trust me: Kartheiser and Staton are hilarious.
Blondie is telling some story about how one time she ate too many Fritos and threw up, and if that's true I'd advise her to go easy on the martinis. She's got another bimbo with her, along with a pilot, who's less impressed than his co-workers at Don's cover profession of accountant and makes that opinion plain. Blondie in turn is unimpressed with the guy's lack of manners, prompting him to apologize, which saves Sal the trouble of pointing out that people wearing lobster bibs shouldn't cast aspersions. Don, however, sees the opportunity to spin a yarn, and informs the table that there are different kinds of accountants before asking Sal to tell them what they do. Sal: "I don't know, Bill." Hee. That line was delivered so dryly that the vermouth on the table got jealous. After Don then implies that they're, as Bib Boy puts it, "a couple of g-men," Blondie says she's from New York and prefers it there. "But it's my job to be out of town." Episode title to the bubblehead in the uniform! Don replies that he keeps going to new places and winding up somewhere he's already been, and while it sounds profound, given how suddenly unsteady he looks, I wonder if he's simply talking about Drunkenland. Bib Boy asks Sal if he wants a nightcap, and when he demurs, the stewardesses giggle that his face is red. Just wait a few hours, chicas.
After dinner, a swarthy, handsome bellhop boards an elevator that already contains Don, Sal, and Blondie. The bellhop gets off first, which, given Sal's lack of experience, will not be the case later, and then Sal's floor arrives, leaving Don alone with Blondie. Don's floor is , and he does start to disembark, but Blondie catches his arm: "Let me see if it's different than my floor." Oh, Blondie, I have heard some bad lines in my day, some of them coming out of my own mouth, but that was truly awful. Anyway, some borderline staggering from both of them leads to a kiss up against the wall, after which Blondie says she's engaged, but on the other hand, it might be her last chance. Don: "I've been married a long time. You get plenty of chances." Cavalier attitude from someone who got kicked to the curb last season, but if he's taking all his business out of town he's at least learned a thing or two. Not the right thing or two, but a thing or two. I will say, though, that this assignation (if you can call it that, given how it turns out) has a different feel than the ones we've seen in the past; the fact that he presses his forehead to hers for a long moment before murmuring, "It's my birthday," suggests that he's actually just lonely. Of course, it's theoretically possible that he's playing her about that, but that doesn't seem like his M.O., nor does it feel like that's what's going on from the acting. But whatever the case may be, they start making out more heavily...
...as Sal flops down onto his bed without removing a stitch of clothing. However, he reconsiders, as it's apparently hot as balls in there, and when he discovers his air conditioner is on the fritz, he calls downstairs and reports the problem. "It is stagnant in here." Well, that won't be an issue much longer. And the air should get fixed too.
Blondie disrobes in front of Don, giving a nod either to modesty or network TV by covering her breasts with her hands when the camera's on her. Don't worry, straight guys, we gays are going to get gypped too.
Speaking of which, the bellhop from the elevator is on the air conditioner case, and once he gets it running, Sal digs in his pocket for a tip, and you can just make your own joke about the bellhop taking over that particular duty. Yes, before you know it, the bellhop has invaded Sal's personal space, and they are very quickly making out. The guy is a lot speedier at getting his uniform top off than Blondie was, and when he goes for Sal's pants, Bryan Batt does a great job of sounding like he's about to hyperventilate. Either that, or they had a pretty hilarious ADR session. The guy, who is really quite cute, gets Sal on the bed and reaches a hand down into his boxers, and given my guess that Sal is a virgin with men I did not expect this to last long, but while I turn out to be correct, it's not for the reason I expected, as the fire alarm suddenly starts ringing. Sal looks panicked, like, "Did I set that off?" I wouldn't rule it out.
Don, who lost his shirt since we last saw him, tosses some clothes at Blondie, who's in the bed, and tells her they need to go. God, a fire alarm when you're hammered and half-dressed. Will the college memories never fade? Seriously, though, the last two times I stayed in a hotel the fire alarm went off, and there were people still sauntering out of the hotel like twenty minutes later. This particular scene is not exactly verité. The two of them head out the window onto the fire escape...
...and on the way down, Don sees Sal getting himself together and urgently knocks and tells him to come on. Sal catches flies, knowing something huge is about to happen and being powerless to stop it, and when the bellhop comes running in from off-camera, Don looks like he's seen a ghost. And this is a man who didn't bat an eye when he saw a vision of his dead mother giving birth to him. Don and Blondie, who didn't see a thing, get going again...
...and down on the street, Don's and Sal's eyes meet uncertainly as fire trucks are on the scene and the bellhop tells the crowd that everything's okay. Which is kind of insensitive of him, given that his new boyfriend's world has just been turned upside down.
The morning, Peggy strides into the SC lobby and joins Joan, who's waiting for the elevator. After some small talk about how Joan doesn't ride the subway (nod to her rich doctor husband, assuming they did get married?), Peggy tries to complain about Lola always being late, but Joan counters that she's not at work yet. Peggy fails to read the room, though, and goes on in this vein until she mentions Lola flirting with, hilariously referring to Hooker, "Moneypenny" all the time. Joan snaps that Hooker hates that name, which: The point, my dear. Peggy asks if she's defending him, but Joan seethes, "He's repellent. Reminds me of a doorman." I've known plenty of wonderful doormen, particularly those that put up with me when I was in my twenties and had far too many late nights, but I certainly agree with the first part. Peggy takes this as a cue to start bitching again, which seems rather unlike her, and Joan sighs in frustration that she'll be so glad to be out of that place soon. That makes one of us in the whole world, my dear. Well, two, if you count Paul. Peggy replies that that's very comforting. Joan: "There's nothing I can do."
After congratulating Pete, Hildy tells him that Pryce called a meeting for the Heads of Accounts. Noticing the extra "S" in there causes Pete's blood to freeze, and when she clarifies that the meeting is for him and Ken, he practically snarls, "What are you talking about?" Go back a few pages, Pete. It's all there.
London Fog meeting. Don tells the clients, an older and younger man, that he's there as a reminder of SC's "continuity of service," and even with Burt Peterson gone, they're on SC's mind. Sal then enters, and after he apologizes for being late, the old guy explains to the young man that Sal is "the guy with the marker who always does what I say." Hard to think Don isn't hearing innuendos after last night. Old Geezer says he can't remember -- does Sal have a family? Eesh, that one was an unsubtle clanker for this show. Why not just ask if he enjoys the warm embrace of the vagina? Sal says he has a wife, and Don gives a hilarious inscrutable smile before Geezer offers to have the kid take them on a tour. The young man, though, as it happens, is Geezer's son and apparently a new addition to the company, and he stops them, saying Geezer is very concerned about the business at the moment. "Dad is worried that everyone who is ever going to buy a raincoat already has one." Sal quotes Balzac as a counterargument, which is better than that ridiculous fear deserves, and Geezer guffaws, "Balzac, huh? You are not Burt Peterson." Heh, but I've heard enough bad gay puns involving Balzac over the years to think the writers weren't going as highbrow as it seems here. Anyway, Don basically tells Geezer and Son to get over their moronic fears, although he does it with verbiage that merits the high salary he commands, and just like that, they're taking the tour. Well, that was worth the price of the flight.
In the conference room, Joan is reading off a list of all their accounts, splitting them down the middle so half go to Ken and the other half to Pete, and it's nice to notice that a large number of them have been mentioned on the show before. Ken grins at Pete through all this like he's thrilled they're going to be running the show together, while Pete isn't letting the fact that he doesn't have heat vision stop him from trying to burn Ken to a crisp with his eyes. The other people on hand are Harry and Pryce, and when Utz goes to Pete, Ken asks why, so Harry tells him that some of the dividing was done on accounts, but some was on relationships, "and you figure out what happened with Utz." I think Ken's maybe getting unfairly blamed there, particularly since it was a combination of Lois and Don's efforts that resulted in Mrs. Schilling failing to be properly shielded from Jimmy (and Ken's mom is even "heavyset"!), but I can't deny that keeping that as a distant memory is probably the way to go. Pete, trying to figure out how many people he needs to add to his shotgun list, asks Harry if he decided "all this," but Harry responds that "while forty-two cents of every dollar at this agency is spent in the Television Department," he made the decision jointly with Pryce. Pete then whines that Peggy's name is all over his accounts, but Pryce ignores him and announces that they're each taking half the company. "'Course, it's possible someone could distinguish themselves." That someone isn't you -- didn't they teach you proper grammar at whatever snooty academy you attended? Pryce adds that it would be easier that way, practically braining them each with the gauntlet, but Ken's still too ecstatic to notice, while Pete's lower lip is threatening to lay waste to everything in its path. Outside, Pete grabs Ken and notes that if he's upset, he's hiding it well. Ken basically asks what's up Pete's ass, and Pete is like, why would you even take the job, since you're no good. That's literally his dis -- "You're no good." Wow, Pete. That shit is weak. Ken points out the obvious, that Pryce or whoever is pulling the strings from across the pond wants them to hate each other, and he's not going to play. Pete, however, lashes out some more, causing Ken to simply walk away in genuine bewilderment. Honestly, of all the people at this company, Ken's the one I could see hating just about the least. You know, if you're male and heterosexual.
On the plane home, Don's resting his eyes while Sal looks like someone awaiting a lethal injection. Presently, Don wakes up and asks what time it is, and when Sal tells him one-fifteen, notes that they should be back in the office by three. Sal's like, you're going back to the office? It does seem a bit odd, but maybe he's still catching up fro
m calling in sick for like, two months last year. Don leans forward and says he wants Sal to be completely honest with him, causing Sal to look like he might puke up everything he's ever eaten, but instead of anything personal, Don pitches an idea for a London Fog ad. He stares deep into Sal's eyes as he comes to the tagline -- "Limit Your Exposure" -- and Sal nods in understanding of the subtextual advice as he agrees that that's it. Don holds his gaze for another long moment before declaring, "Good," and just like that, Sal has nothing to worry about. As I said in the recaplet, if Sal ever wants to chat about how Don Draper is the man to trust with secrets, he can just knock on Peggy's door.
Hooker is chatting up a couple secretaries, and for someone who doesn't want that title he sure is dipping his toes in the typing pool often enough. Joan and her ever-expanding rack pull him away and tell him that she thought it would be a good idea to have an office set aside for when visitors come from the parent company, and it would also make sense for someone to be occupying it in the meantime. She leads him to Burt Peterson's old office and says it's not much, but he will have someone to attend to his typing, "to avoid you siphoning off the man-hours." Heh. Hooker's thrilled, but he'd probably suspect Joan of being up to no good if he could only control his emotions.
Trudy shows up to Pete's office and...oh God, I forgot about this. She's wearing the most ridiculous black fez I've ever seen and bearing a gift for Pete, a marble paperweight and pen holder with this inscription: "Peter Campbell: The buck stops here." She's such a sweetheart, but...no. Just...no. Pete informs her that said bucks are going to be stopping in front of Ken in equal number, but after Trudy tells him she's sorry, she goes on that he's a lot like her father. "You're an ambitious man, and an ambitious man is never happy with what he has!" That's true. On the other hand, your father seems to be a pretty decent guy, while your husband's a douchebag. Just thought I'd let you know that parallel isn't exact. Pete literally whines about his lot in life, so Trudy has to tell him that he's actually got an amazing opportunity here, so he shouldn't cock it up. "They do not want to hear your outrage. They want you to beat Ken!" Wise words from someone who let herself go out with that thing on her head. Pete still won't shut up, so Trudy settles for kissing him, reducing him to staring at her like a three-year-old whose pediatrician has just told him he's fresh out of lollipops.
We return to a close-up of Sal's sketches for the new London Fog ad Don pitched on the plane. Paul marvels that the whole thing is great, but then asks Sal to gossip about the Baltimore trip, obviously angling to hear stories about Don's escapades. I swear, it's like Don's the Sam Malone and Harry and Paul are Norm and Cliff. And that may sound like a harsh comparison for Paul here, but at least Cliff, like, delivered the mail. What exactly does Paul do all day? Anyway, Sal is no longer interested in dishing about Don now that Don has made his penchant for discretion plain, and he says the trip was just "two old married men. Sorry to disappoint the hen party." Some of that may have been implied.
Don's doing some of his own typing (take note, John Hooker) when Roger enters, saying his girl is gone and he's got a bottle of Stoli and a box of Cuban cigars. What myocardial infarction? He adds that he sent them from Greece: "Should have tried a pound of opium." Frankly, I'm kind of surprised you didn't. Don brings up the "Cosgrove vs. Campbell" situation, and wonders what Bertram's up to, but Roger corrects him that while the setup "sounds Japanese," it wasn't Bertram behind it, but Pryce, possibly on behalf of the home office. "I told him it was a stupid idea, but they don't always get our inflection." Heh. Just then, Pete comes in and archly asks to speak to Don, but trails off when he catches sight of Roger and, after some blatant emotional course correction, says he's honored by the promotion. Roger invites Pete to have a drink. "Not the Stoli." It would have been funnier if you'd offered him half a glass, Roger. Bertram then joins the party and, seeing Pete, says he was going to tell this to Don but he can give the news to Pete directly: He has an old friend at the mayor's office who wants to do a campaign. "Something about...Penn Station." I can see where that would need some PR. Pete's thrilled, and then Bertram asks for some brandy. I guess he really wasn't kidding back when he said he wasn't much of a drinker, given the way Roger swivels his head like a praying mantis at the news. If I had to guess, I'd say he's feeling regret over the decision to sell the company, as he makes a veiled insult to their new overlords before wistfully remarking, "I don't care what they say. London Fog is a great name." Everyone looks around like, "What's the over-under on when the old fogey goes completely around the bend?"
Hooker is giddily serving Pryce a cup of tea in his new office as Pryce asks him why he's got it. Hooker repeats Joan's logic about the office almost verbatim while taking credit for the inspiration, but Pryce pops his balloon right quick: "It's a harebrained idea. We just fired one-third of their workforce. It's unseemly to go through their pockets as well." He concedes that the visitor's office part is fine, but tells Hooker to sit out front. He does not add, "With the other girls," but I think we're all on the same page regardless. Hooker bitterly notes that the place is a gynocracy, and Pryce, likely thinking about Bertram's painting, mutters into his tea: "Hadn't noticed." Heh.
Don's just arrived home, and Bobby is happily lugging his suitcase as Betty tells him should he run into Carlton on the train, to confirm her story that they're busy for some unspecified event. If this means Betty's avoiding Francine, I will be, as Ed Rooney would say, soooorely disappointed. (Unless that in turn means that she's still going to be on House, in which case all will be forgiven.) Betty then informs Don that she elicited a confession from Sally about the suitcase, and after she kicks Bobby out of the room, Sally joins them and tearfully apologizes. Don says they'll take the money to fix the damage out of her allowance, and when Sally points out she doesn't get one, Don replies, "Then don't break things." Continuing to look down at the floor, Sally says she just didn't want him to leave, so he pulls her close and promises that he'll always come home. "You'll always be my girl." Well, at least he says it like he means it. He and Betty settle onto the bed as Sally busies herself unpacking the valise, and Betty smiles at him that his eyes look tired. Wait until the kid comes along, eh? He responds that he doesn't sleep well when he's not there, which could have something to do with all the fire alarms, and she tells him that he squints too much and should get reading glasses. Don does not reply to that, and then Sally rushes up with a stewardess's winged pin and excitedly asks if it's for her. Don, after a long moment, says yes, and Betty takes it and sticks it onto Sally's clothing. Sally then settles in between them and asks about the day she was born, but Don, perhaps thrown by his daughter wearing a memento from one of his tricks, has for the moment lost his lyrical command of the language, so after he haltingly mentions that it was raining hard and he'd just gotten home from work, Betty takes up the story, saying Don didn't feel like getting back in the car, but he did, taking her suitcase and the "little stuffed Eeyore that I knew I was going to give you." Well, no wonder the girl has problems. No one wants to be the Eeyore! Some absolutely beautiful and haunting heavily-stringed instrumental music, the same music that played at the beginning of the episode when Don was having the visions of his own start in life, plays as Don, for his part, looks hopelessly lost all of a sudden, like he's still feeling the loneliness it seemed like he was expressing in Baltimore. I don't think that can be good, but we'll have to wait to find out for sure. See you week!
John Ramos is a writer and film producer living in Los Angeles. You can reach him at couchbaron@gmail.com.
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