The Grass Is Always Greener

S06E04

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Because of and despite the events of last time, Timmy Ketchup is meeting seriously with SCDP, although they're having to do so in Pete's TP-less apartment for the moment. Timmy Ketchup proposes that Don do some spec work for him and guarantees that if he likes it, Raymond will fall in line; if not, he'll never have to know. Don's still full of misgivings, of course, to the point that the only other person he allows Pete to bring in is Stan. The pitch in a hotel room goes well enough -- but when the SCDP team exits, they run into Chaough and Peggy, there to take their turn. Don listens at the door to Peggy's presentation, and it seems like she nails it, but Chaough and Peggy catch up to the SCDP boys at the corner bar and inform them that Ketchup bought a bigger agency's pitch in the room. It gets worse when Ken storms in having gotten an earful from Raymond containing the words "You're fired," and much like with Mohawk and American Airlines back in Season Two, by going after the huge bird in the bush, they lost the one that was feeding their hand. Hey, I'm not the one who has to sell copy. Also, Stan magnificently flips Peggy off and although I don't want him to stay mad at her, that was richly deserved.

Dawn gets a storyline that involves her, essentially, having no life and not wanting to rock the boat at SCDP. Unfortunately, she also gets in trouble for aiding and abetting Scarlett sneaking out of work. After Joan figures this out, Dawn comes in to see her and apologizes, and Joan replies by giving her watch over the time cards and supply closet. She does so in a hard-as-nails fashion, but it seems to me like if Joan's going to bond with any other woman there, it's likely to be Dawn.

Joan's old friend Kate, who we haven't met before, takes Joan out for a night of proto-cougaring, and although Joan's slower to get into it than Kate, neither does she refuse to make a young man's… well, life. Kate then confesses she wishes she had what Joan had, business-wise, and although Joan protests about how the men at work treat her, Kate tells her the way she sees it, Joan has everything in front of her for the taking.

Ken complains about his Dow Chemical father-in-law Ray Wise, prompting Harry to suggest a meeting about their Napalm image problems. They pitch Ray Wise on sponsoring a Joe Namath music special ("Broadway Joe on Broadway"), and Ed eats it up. Meanwhile, as I mentioned, Scarlett enlists Dawn's help in ducking out of work for a stint, and it takes Joan all of five minutes to sniff this out and can Scarlett. Harry, however, intercedes effectively, and then barges into the partners' meeting and barks at everyone about not yet being a partner, dragging Joan's honor through the mud in a thinly veiled way in the process. Even though the partners give him a commission on the Dow special that exceeds his yearly salary, he keeps on about the other thing, and Roger and Bertram basically agree that they'd rather kill each other and/or themselves before they dilute their ownership.

Megan has to do a love scene on TV, and tells Don in advance on the advice of a more seasoned co-star. She and her husband -- the head writer on the show, also known as Ted McGinley -- then take Megan and Don out before inviting them back for some pot and, well, swinging, and Don and Megan almost climb over each other in getting the hell out of there. They laugh about it in the cab home, but less amusing is when Don chooses the day of Megan's initial love scene for his first set visit, which leads to a nasty fight that sends Don running straight over to Sylvia's. Sylvia tells Don she prays for him to find peace, but he symbolically nixes that idea, so sure, let's all feel sorry about yet another Don Draper existential crisis. With all the sex he has, I wonder from a blood-flow point of view how he can even think about such things -- especially with the anatomy we all know he has.

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Before I start, a reader pointed out to me that Trudy told Pete she won't be "a failure" in response to Pete asking her if she wanted a divorce, which he took to mean "no." I agree, but I wonder if, once tempers cool, she'll realize just how much work keeping up the necessary appearances will be. Of course, if she's only waiting until she's got something else going to dump her cheating husband, I doubt she'll have to wait long. Anyway, since Trudy's not even in this episode, let's forestall any further discussion...

...and get right into Pete, standing at the bar in his New York pad fixing a drink, as he asks an unknown presence if he or she hasn't yet told anyone "that you're looking to change your life." Maybe it's the hideous cheap stained translucent plastic in the foreground, but this initial camera push-in seems cheap, especially combined with the misleading dialogue. The place is tiny; there's no need to hide around corners for a reveal that's coming in two seconds anyway. It feels staged for a scenes-to-come appearance, which as everyone knows are the most irritating part of this show, and it makes me miss the often-thematic opening close-ups on which the show used to rely.

Anyway, Timmy Ketchup tells Pete and Don that he's looking for "an exploratory mission," but Pete brings up the issue of Raymond, although he does pretty much imply that Don's the only one who's concerned here, which is weird; as I mentioned in the recaplet, of course Don showed with Mohawk Air that he's more client-loyal than the rest of them (when he's not firing clients, that is), but it strikes me that losing Beans, a national account, would be a much bigger relative blow to SCDP than losing Mohawk was to the more established SC, so maybe Don's not the only one who should be treating this seriously. Timmy replies by talking about his account's monetary value and prestige, and after Pete, whose hairline actually seems to be receding by the episode, assures Timmy that Don knows all of that, Timmy assures Don that if he does "the work" (a spec pitch, it seems) and Timmy likes it, he guarantees that Raymond will fall in line. I'm sure Don doesn't buy that, but I suppose he can't very well take Timmy through the details of just how much Raymond despises him.

Timmy goes on that if he doesn't like the pitch, Raymond never needs to know, but Don isn't quite satisfied: "I don't know if that solves my problem." His delivery suggests that his "problem" may be linked to the fact that he likes Timmy almost as much as Raymond, but Timmy offers to keep things as clandestine as possible as he tells them they can even have the pitch at Pete's place. Pete, however, assures him that they'll get a hotel -- wouldn't want to interrupt the bimbo foot traffic now that he's somewhat officially off the chain -- and then Timmy excuses himself, saying he's supposed to be meeting someone, "and she likes me to wait for her." I might sense some mannered contempt there, but I'm going to have enough sexism to deal with in this episode without actively looking for it. Timmy tells them to take their time, adding that he doesn't need much of an excuse to come to Manhattan.

He leaves, and Pete and Don hilariously stay silent until the ring of the elevator lets them know Timmy is safely out of earshot. Peggy, you may have learned a lot from Don, but this is a trick you'd do well to adopt. Don, putting his coat on, tells Pete that the "small team" they discussed will have exactly one other person on it -- Stan -- and Pete agrees, adding that they'll bill the account under the utilitarian yet mysterious name "Project K." Don then kind of looks around the room for the first time and compliments Pete on the place, whereupon Pete offers that it's available to Don should he need to spend the night in the city. Don: "I live here, Pete." It's the middle of Season Six, and Pete's interactions with Don often still feel like they're from Episode One.

Dawn enters a little diner up near where she lives (presumably, from the clientele) and joins a young woman at the counter, who mildly notes she's twenty minutes late. Dawn apologizes, somewhat tartly reminding her friend (I assume; they don't seem like sisters) she has a job, but the friend informs her that that's not her only occupation -- she's also the friend's maid of honor. (It won't be mentioned, but I'll tell you for brevity's sake that the friend's name is "Nikki.") Dawn replies that she can't really lose that job, can she? Were this the present day, we could refer her to any number of reality shows, but it's a pretty good line, so let's give it to her. Nikki then breaks the news that the date her fiancé was trying to arrange for Dawn for the wedding fell through, so Dawn sighs and asks her to tell him to keep looking because she's never going to find anyone at the office, and church is impossible too. "You can't stand out in that crowd of harlots." Dawn, I know you're working a lot, but when you have a free moment I would like the long version of your church gossip. Nikki asks if there's really no one she runs into downtown, but Dawn replies that she gets on the train and the black population thins out every stop, until by 72nd Street, it's just her and this old shoeshine guy. "And he won't even look at me." Heh. Nikki says she heard about a friend's son running into Dawn, but Dawn tells her they merely acknowledged each other with a nod, the implication being that it wasn't a comfortable environment for them to do any more than that. Damn. I was hoping for more Dawn, but does her life have to be as much of a buzzkill as everyone else's?

A pretty blonde (played by Marley Shelton of Pleasantville notoriety) is putting the finishing touches on Gail's makeup as she apologizes for going heavy on the blush, adding that she's out of practice. I'm out of practice in dealing with how much I love Gail, but that's like riding a bicycle. Gail tells "Kate" she needs all the help she can get, but Kate replies that the Mary Kay philosophy is to make yourself feel better by "doing something for you." Gail dryly replies that that will be a first, and that's fair enough from someone who's been the nanny for the past year or so, but I'm sad to hear that it sounds like her supply of male company seems to have dried up.

Joan arrives home with a big smile and a warm embrace for Kate, as the two of them are old friends; Kate grins that Joan hasn't changed, while Joan wonders how Kate suddenly got younger than she. Just wait until later in the episode, Joan. Gail asks what Joan thinks of her makeover, prompting Joan warily to ask how much she spent. Hee. Gail informs her it's all free of charge, and Kate explains that this is stuff left over from when she was in the field -- she's a sales director now. After a quick inquiry about Kate's "boys," Gail suggests they let Kevin, Joan's son, sleep while they eat dinner, as she made a pork roast. Joan, in a we-discussed-this-and-I-said-no voice, informs her mother that she made reservations at Le Cirque "for two," but Gail is like, I want to catch up with Kate, who by the way has a job interview in the morning, "and I don't want her tying one on." Sounds like Gail might have been a second mom for Kate, which is adorable. Joan asks who Kate's meeting with, and she smiles, "The competition." Ding dong!

Don's in the elevator when it opens to reveal Sylvia, dressed for an evening out. She boards, whereupon he wonders why she's getting on the elevator when it's going up. A better question is why it stopped at her floor in the first place, and her lame explanation is "I pushed down," but I suppose it's not worth nitpicking the hows of these two getting together given their determination to do it in the face of it demonstrably being the worst idea ever, and I'm including anything we've seen from Roger in that assessment. Don stops the elevator (no alarm?) and pulls Sylvia into a kiss. She wonders where he's been, so he confesses that he's been working all the time. "Don't tell anyone." Heh. Sylvia informs Don that Rosen will be on call Thursday or Friday, and she'll leave a penny under the backdoor mat when the coast is clear.

Their week's calendar set, she restarts the elevator as she tells him she has to go, and when he asks if she can be more specific, she coyly replies, "No." He disembarks, but looks back with interest as she keeps the playful smile on her face. Ick, these two. Bobbie Barrett was fantastic, and although it defied belief that Midge and Don would ever even speak, I didn't mind her either, but there is just nothing interesting about Don and Sylvia together, and it is bringing me down. Dr. Faye, it's a real cliché, but he did you a favor.

Gail is trying on Kate's watch as Joan remarks that "Dennis" must be doing well, but Kate tells her the thing is actually from the company. They don't draw attention to it, which is what makes it a moment to consider, but it's interesting that Joan, who spends the episode railing about the respect she fails to get from men, immediately jumps to the conclusion that the watch came from Kate's husband. It's not an unreasonable pattern of thinking; it's just an ingrained one. Noting that it sports real diamonds, Gail asks what she had to do to get it, and Kate modestly tells her that it's a simple matter of a lot of her recruits selling a lot of Mary Kay. Joan appreciatively says that the company knows what they're doing, but while Kate agrees, she tells Joan that "working out of Spokane, there's only so far I can go." Gail tells Kate that Joan's a partner, "and I don't know if anyone would want all that extra responsibility," prompting Joan to turn to Kate and crisply ask her to visit more often. "Turns out someone's proud of me." Heh. Gail, after hilariously agreeing that she's a monster, announces that she is proud of Joan: "My daughter is a partner at a Madison Avenue advertising firm. That's something I enjoy saying." Any defensiveness on Joan's part melts away as she practically giggles that it does sound pretty good. Aw. Kate then expresses her regrets but says she has to get back to the Waldorf, so Joan wishes her luck the day, but adds, holding up the watch, "if worse comes to worst, you're appreciated somewhere." They smile beatifically at each other, and just for how happy Joan is to see her, I want Kate to visit more often too.

Harry, sipping coffee from an ABC mug, is sitting at his desk, and I guess one of the benefits of the office expansion is that he no longer has a support beam through the middle of it. Ken enters and barks (for his usually mild-mannered self, at least) about some closing dates for Birds Eye, leading Harry, not unreasonably, to invite him to maybe chill out a little. Ken collapses into a chair and explains that he spent the entire weekend hearing from his father-in-law about how much the world hates Dow Chemical. And while I could listen enraptured to Ray Wise reading the phone book, I'll admit that sitting politely as the manufacturer of napalm complains about his lot in life wouldn't be my first choice of weekend activities. Ken adds that every one of Ed's complaints was directed against him and SCDP, prompting Harry to wonder if Ken's finally been turned into a neurotic. I'd say it takes one to know one if I weren't completely sure that Harry would concede the point. Ken's like, I know this is counterintuitive, but ceasing to drop napalm on children can actually have a surprising positive effect on public image, but Harry's off on another train of thought: "I know you just came here to complain" (Hee) "but I actually think that I can help you." Ken sighs that it's true -- he did come in there to complain -- but Harry wonders if Ken could pull off a meeting with just the two of them and Ed, and Ken is sure he could, as long as there's a good reason. Scarlett then comes in with Harry's breakfast, and to his credit, Harry seems appreciative of Scarlett without being disgusting, and when Harry gives her a name to ring for him, she confides in Ken that Harry has great ideas, so apparently the appreciation is mutual. Is Harry Crane finally growing up?

Stan and his beard march through the office to a room marked "Private," into which they disappear as spy-caper music plays, and Ginzo wonders if they could get this clock with a camera in it he saw on a spy show into the room. The older lady, about whom I'll point out we STILL KNOW NOTHING after four episodes, doesn't look up as she notes that getting into the room would sort of obviate the need for the clock, but Ginzo is undeterred by such cold logic as he goes on that he's guessing the secrecy is for a military account. "And I would guess they picked Stan because he has no conscience." Hee. Benson wonders what "Project K" could possibly refer to, and given that he was the only one of these guys present at the initial meeting with Ketchup, it's a little slow of him not to figure out what "K" might stand for here.

After a little Ginzo paranoia, Don enters and stays for as long as he can stand being in Ginzo's and Benson's combined presence; one and one-quarter seconds later, he's opening Stan's door to find him smoking a joint. A little unprofessional, perhaps, but the beard kind of makes it obligatory. He offers it to Don, who at first gives that face of his most people reserve for staring down stubborn eight-year-olds, but when Stan assures him it "clears the cobwebs," Don surprisingly relents. I should clarify that I'm not surprised at the fact of it, just that I'd think Don would share my philosophy that pot is nothing but mental cobwebs. To back me up, Stan and Don stoned-speak about whether a hot dog takes ketchup or mustard for like ten seconds, and then Stan is like, "I think we should order lunch." Hee. The appropriate giggling fit ensues...

...while, in less hilarious parts of SCDP, Scarlett comes into the break room and, sniffing the air, notes to Dawn, "Someone's having a party and didn't invite us." Dawn smiles that she doesn't know what she might mean, before taking the card out of Scarlett's hand and wondering if it's "Clara's" birthday. Scarlett clarifies that it's the day before adding that it's two dollars a head and inviting Dawn to come. Dawn begs off, however, saying Don always needs her, and if her schedule is such that she can never attend straight-after-work social events, it might not entirely be race's fault that she's not meeting anyone downtown. Scarlett asks Dawn if she could punch her out when she leaves, and Dawn balks for a moment, but agrees. Oh, Dawn. At least tell her that there may come a day when you ask for a favor from her.

Megan, in a maid's uniform and bangs-sporting wig, is reading on the little couch in her dressing room when a good-looking young man enters and excitedly wonders if she got the pages. Megan tells him no, and then a woman who's more Don's generation pokes her head in and asks if they're rehearsing already. A quick bit of talk reveals that "Arlene" here is married to a "Mel," who is in a position of authority on the show, and a somewhat slower bit of kissing reveals that this "Rod" here isn't intimidated by her marital status. In both their defense, he's kind of almost impossibly hot.

When he's gone, Megan asks what's going on, and I don't know if she's including the little tongue-wrestle she just witnessed in her question, but Arlene keeps it professional, smilingly informing Megan that she's going to have a love scene with Rod, "and between you, me, and a national audience, it's more of a love affair." Megan is delighted, and Arlene takes some credit for swaying her husband (either the lead writer, producer or both, apparently) to give Megan that plotline. Arlene asks if she's done this kind of thing before, and Megan's like, sure, totally. "Does a high school play count?" Arlene: "No." Hee. Arlene gives her the pro tips, which are that it'll be exciting at first, but then just part of the job. Referring to a photo of Don on the wall, she goes on that "the hard part is how James Garner will deal with it," and while the prevailing wisdom may to be present it after the fact if at all, Arlene thinks it's best to be upfront. It sounds good, but as we'll learn, Arlene's views of marital relations are a little off the beaten path. Megan, with some trepidation, agrees that Don is not going to like it, so Arlene offers for Mel and her to take Don and Megan out to dinner to make him comfortable, and anyone who catalogues this show's most hilarious lines might want to revisit this one later. Just then, the pages arrive, so Arlene hands them to Megan and smiles that she'll leave her alone to read them, and Megan happily sits down to do so, all thoughts of jealous husbands forgotten for the moment.

Meredith, that dippy receptionist who somehow has hung onto her job, enters Joan's office and asks if she sent Scarlett somewhere, and the tone of Joan's response of "No, Meredith" would be insulting to anyone smarter, so I guess this is all happening as it should. Meredith explains that she can't find Scarlett or Harry, and there's a man waiting to see the latter -- at which point Harry and the guy walk by the office. Hee. The unamused look on Joan's face is a testament to Christina Hendricks' power not to break, as is her response of "Busy" when Meredith tries to change the subject by asking how she is. Meredith finally takes the hint and exits, but Joan calls to her to have Scarlett see her if she discovers her. Uh oh, Dawn. I hope your expanded storyline doesn't result in you getting canned.

Don arrives home, and Megan's like, oh good, you're here, why don't you come in and sit down, I've got this great coq au vin dinner and here's a drink! Thankfully, before she can start massaging his feet, Don asks what happened, and Megan replies, "Just once, I'd like to be that wife that lays a trap and has her husband walk right into it." Heh. But you did marry an ad man, Megan. Subliminal cues are his trade.

Megan launches into an explanation of Arlene and Mel (he is the head writer, as it happens) and dinner, and Don's like, "Does it get worse?" Hey, Megan, he fell into the trap after all! She takes the proffered cue and explains about the love scenes, and Don's eyes narrow as he wonders what, exactly, those might consist of, so Megan tells him it's just kissing and hugging. "It's TV. We can't really do anything." Ah, the days before cable. How young we all were. Don at least tries for decent humor as he asks Megan what she wants him to say, and Megan replies that she wants to hear that he trusts her, that he knows it's part of her job, and it was bound to happen if things went well. Don: "Keep going; I'm dying to hear what I say ." You kind of had to give him that one, Megan. With just a hint of ruefulness, she asks if she should have hidden the development from him, so he sighs and tells her he needs to think about it; when pressed, he reluctantly admits that if he weren't her husband, he'd be happy for her. "It does mean they like you." He concludes that while he can't encourage this, he can tolerate it, and that's enough to satisfy Megan. In an episode heavy on female subjugation, I hate to be part of the problem, but Megan, you might want to serve up that coq au vin before your husband changes his mind.

So Harry, Ken and the guy we saw walking into the office are over at Dow in a meeting with Ed and some other guy, and Harry expresses sympathy for their plight, but points out that they've been in the news every other day, "and a couple of articles placed in business journals are not going to make that stop." Ed's reaction lets us know he sees the truth of that, so Harry turns the floor over to "Pierre," who pitches a one-hour primetime TV special sponsored by Dow, "starring Joe Namath and fifteen or so of his best friends putting on a show drawn from America's most beloved musicals." This is so out there I was sure it had actually to have happened in real life, but then again, variety shows were still going strong at this point. Ed asks if Joe Namath sings, getting this reply from Pierre: "Don't you want to watch it just to find out?" A prepared response, to be sure, but no less effective for it, demonstrated by Ed's sincere chuckle. He asks who the "friends" would be, and Pierre, who I guess is a network executive, runs down a bunch of ideas, culminating with this: "How about John Wayne in a sketch version of Camelot?" Hee. Ed points out that women don't like football, but Pierre avows Joe Namath's transcendent nature in that respect, and Harry brings it on home: "How would you like Dow to be responsible for making people smile?" I never thought I'd say this, but this shows the gift of inspiration, which means that Harry is actually growing up in more ways than one, and it says a lot about how appealing the idea is that his breaking into "Yankee Doodle Dandy" doesn't ruin the pitch. Even the no-nonsense Dow sidekick is impressed, so he asks what their commitment would be, and Ken runs it down: There will be six minutes of ads, three of which would go to Dow, who would also get a ten-second billboard at the beginning and end of the show. "Brought to you by Dow Chemical: Family products for the American family." Ed looks like he's going to sleep better at night, and while I don't think that's deserved, it does mean Harry did his job.

Scarlett's on the phone, eyes toward the wall, when Joan saunters up. When her approach to Harry's door fails to get Scarlett's attention, Joan deliciously says she's sorry to "bother" Scarlett, but is Harry in? Scarlett ditches her phone call and tells Joan that Harry's in a meeting. Joan, continuing with the wonderfully disingenuous concern, advises Scarlett that if Harry has any guests come in, she should inform her, "because he had someone come yesterday and you weren't here." Scarlett at least is nowhere near as clueless as Meredith because she clearly knows she's in trouble even as she smiles that she must have been in the ladies' room. Joan, holding up a time card: "No. And it's strange because you didn't leave until 6:47." Scarlett attempts to explain that she needed to buy the gift for Clara, and she wanted to go at lunch but got stuck at her desk, so she left Harry on his own while she dealt with "company business." She tries to have Joan sign the card, but Joan's like, not so fast -- you never came back, and you had Dawn punch your card. Scarlett continues with the LIES, saying that she and Dawn were working together, and they were all over the place, but mostly in Accounting. Joan: "Thank you for clearing that up." Hee. She takes off...

...only to march down the internal stairs straight into Dawn. She sharply calls her name, prompting Dawn to treat us to the amusing sight of a walking flinch. Joan informs Dawn that Scarlett told her everything, and then Scarlett appears on the stairs and frantically gestures at Dawn with all the subtlety of Basil Fawlty trying to communicate the name "Dragonfly" to Polly without his wife catching on. This scene, however, ends considerably more quickly, as Joan sees Dawn's eyes move to the stairs -- how can you blame them, with the train wreck in front of them -- whereupon Joan swivels her head and loudly fires Scarlett, and props to the background woman who freezes on the stairs in response. Hee. Scarlett begs Joan to reconsider as Dawn looks on in horror and fear of whether she's , but she gets a respite when Don's voice comes over the intercom requesting her to get Stan in to see him before the partners' meeting. Joan, however, promises Dawn her time will come, so Dawn walks off looking shell-shocked; meanwhile, Scarlett tries one more plea, saying "girls do it all the time," but Joan tells her to get out before she really embarrasses herself. I get what she's saying, but she's got a lot of ground to cover to compete for Worst Firing Ever.

Returning to the office, Ken tells Harry that he's now on Ed's radar, whatever that may mean, and then they run into the teary and box-carrying Scarlett...

...and then Harry's storming into Joan's office with Scarlett in tow, and of course, Scarlett looks dreadfully uncomfortable as Harry demands that Joan apologize. Joan, evenly enough given the circumstances, asks him please not to involve himself, but Harry, perhaps emboldened by his triumphant afternoon, goes on that he's tired of Joan's "petty dictatorships" and that Scarlett is in his department. Joan, probably realizing that he has a point, goes for the meanest and most hilarious option when she snits that she didn't realize Harry was that attached to Scarlett, and Scarlett, trying to defend Harry's honor against her insinuation, tells her they're not, but Harry demurs: "We are attached!" Joan, back to her measured voice, says that she's got something more important to do -- "I would hope you do too" -- before telling Scarlett to do what she thinks is best. Harry, however, isn't going to back down now that he's come this far, so he snaps that Scarlett is to do whatever he thinks is best, and Scarlett seriously has had a "PLEASE can I go now" look on her face for this whole scene, which makes me like her a lot more. Also, Ken has been standing there watching the whole time, but you know I already loved him. Joan walks out, and Harry pushes Scarlett after her, telling her to go back to work, and that everything is fine...

...but, as we stay with him, we see that everything is not fine, for he observes Joan settling in for the partners' meeting. Inside, Joan proves true to her word that she has better things to do when she tells the room that, regardless of confidentiality, she needs to know how to bill Project K. Unfortunately, Harry assumes something else is being discussed, and you can see the cartoon smoke starting to come out of his ears even as Ken cautions him not to do it. Joan asks Meredith, the minutes-taker, to step out, but before she gets the chance, Harry barges in and barks that he doesn't know what "she" said because he's "not privy to these conversations," but he'd like the chance to defend himself. Joan starts to tell him that's not what's happening, but Roger, characteristically and hilariously, cuts her off so he can have the pleasure of hearing Harry rant. Outside, Ken lights a smoke and continues to observe unabashedly as Harry informs the room that Scarlett works for him, and Joan tried to fire her. Joan counters with the facts of what Scarlett did, but Harry tells everyone that it's either him or Scarlett. Bertram: "I think you mean, 'if she goes, I go.'" Hee. They may not give him many lines these days, but he makes the most of what he's got. Harry then tells them he just brought in $150,000 of incremental business for the company while solving an image problem. "For what? So I could stand outside that glass and watch you all in here?" He doesn't add "Like Ken is right now," but we're all aware of it. Don starts to ask what Dawn did, but Harry barks at him to keep talking to Joan because she's a partner, and then he Goes There: "I'm sorry my accomplishments happened in broad daylight and I can't be given the same rewards." I don't know if that qualifies as scorching the earth, but I think we can agree that it's at least singed after that one, and Pete The Pimp, of all people, gets all "I BEG YOUR PARDON, SIR" about it. Unbowed, Harry tells him that he knows damn well what he means and then announces that he expects to be in attendance at the partner's meeting. "I've actually earned it."

And leaving aside any feelings about his personal affront to Joan just now: Eight people departed SC under cover of night to form this agency. Five of them are sitting as partners in this room; one was a partner before he took his own life, and one left the agency because she knew she couldn't go any farther. Harry's request has merit, although the fact that he spent two seasons as an insufferable buffoon goes a long way to explain why they won't take him seriously now. And while, as I said, I'm taking the position that Harry's growing up, in light of this public shaming of Joan, I am absolutely not saying he's not growing up to be an asshole. Joan looks a bit crestfallen, while Roger definitely seems like he's thinking he got more than he bargained for here. Bertram assures Joan that Harry is not going to be made partner, but Pete gently tells her that he doesn't want to appear to be in Harry's camp, but the Commission on Human Rights is investigating their industry regarding the employment of "Negroes," (is that a term progressive-minded Pete would use in 1968?) and Don adds to Pete's position by offering that Dawn's a good secretary. Joan, probably never too attached to canning Dawn in the first place, agrees, but asks about Scarlett. Bertram, however, suggests that "this humiliation" will suffice as punishment, so Pete suggests they continue with the billings, and Joan asks Meredith where they were. Meredith: "'Meredith, why don't you step out.'" She doesn't get it until Joan is like "..." at her, and I'd suggest Joan take the rest of the day off if I didn't know what kind of night is in store for her.

Nikki is once again awaiting Dawn, and this time she's fuming, so when Dawn finally shows up, Nikki snits that she'd better have brought the bridal magazines she promised. Dawn, however, is in no mood, and snaps right back that she "had a day today that pushed your stupid wedding to the bottom of the list." Nikki asks if she got fired, but Dawn tells her no. "I don't think so. I can't tell at that place." Hee. When Nikki hears the details, she reminds Dawn that she warned her "those girls" aren't her friends, and when they look at her, all they see is "Yes, sir!" Un!Comfortable! Dawn, however, tells Nikki that everyone's scared there, and she sees people of both genders crying all the time. "Sounds like New Year's Eve when they empty the garbage, there's so many bottles." Just as well Dawn never experienced what it was like to work at the old SC. She goes on to remind Nikki about Pryce, but she's not impressed, sarcastically replying that the white people have it so bad they must be jealous of Dawn. Dawn, however, tells her she wants to keep her job, so she's going to keep her head down. Interesting that in a whole conversation about her work, Dawn doesn't once mention her boss. I don't know what it means, but it's got to be a first for a secretary of Don's. Nikki tells Dawn she couldn't do what Dawn does, but Dawn's just over everything at this point: "Well, you don't have to. You're getting married." The fact that it's on the nose is mitigated by the sugar-free-ness.

Joan's staring into space when Kate points out that she's not listening, so Joan explains that she needs a drink (and how), "and this place is a soda fountain." Not literally, but it's populated by a rather younger crowd; the females are the era's equivalent of the "Woo Girls" from How I Met Your Mother. There's a phone on every table, so I guess the idea is that men in the place can call over to the table of the women they find attractive, an idea that's punctuated by the fact that every time a phone rings, a bunch of girls giggle like morons, which seems both quaint and offensive at the same time. Joan wonders what they're doing there, but Kate, dropping her voice, informs Joan that there are many young men there who go for "a certain type," and Joan, always good at math, gets it in about half a second. Kate begs Joan not to judge her, essentially giving her the "what happens in NYC stays in NYC" argument, but Joan only gets the hint of a mischievous smile on her face, and when the fetal manager "Leo" comes over and flirts with Kate, Joan does her a solid by telling him she thinks their phone is broken. "Could you test it?" Hee.

He agrees and heads off, whereupon Kate remarks that he's cute and that he reminds her of a "Scotty," but Joan cautions her not to marry him. "That was the worst six months of my life." Wait, Joan had an ill-advised marriage to an immature man? Her relationship with Roger is making more sense, at least. Kate laughs that Joan always did everything first, but Joan regretfully replies that Kate did everything smart, and I wonder if Joan became a working girl because her ruined marriage made her an undesirable commodity. (You know, socially, GOD.) Of course, Joan must be lumping more recent events into her list of things she might change if she could, but Kate enthusiastically responds that for tonight, they're just a couple of young secretaries. Joan starts to smile even before the phone rings, causing Kate to jump, and when she answers to find Leo, Joan disclaims credit, saying he likes Kate. With coaching from Joan, Kate accepts Leo's invitation for the two of them to go out with him after his shift. When she's off, she excitedly says that now she needs a drink, and Joan's face is clearly wondering what this place has in bottles.

So it's time for the dinner Don's been dreading, and we're meeting Mel, who as I mentioned in the recap is being played by Ted McGinley, and as ubiquitous as he seems, I was rather surprised in checking his credits to realize I personally haven't seen him on TV since Married With Children. That could, of course, be indicative of the fact that he has a reputation of cursing shows, but this program at least has a set end date already. Mel talks a bit about the war in relation to the television business, speculating that "the sponsors" are for the war, and they don't want to have any dissent, which he sees as censorship. He asks for Don's opinion as a writer, but Don tells him that while he's also against the war personally, "when you buy a commercial, you're hoping that the consumer is in a good mood when they hear your message." I'll spare you a hacky joke about antidepressant ads in favor of letting Don go on that when an advertiser pays for a spot on an ostensibly wholesome program only to have it turn into satire -- "the most threatening humor there is" -- they become worried that people will hate what they're selling. In response, Mel looks at Don like he's a particularly succulent piece of beef -- again, make your own fun here -- before wondering aloud how Megan found him and adding that he could cast him right now.

Megan then remarks to Mel that he doesn't have to worry about censorship because the show is so tame, and it's a tenuous enough conversational bridge without her almost literally exchanging wink-winks with Arlene, so I'm kind of amused when Mel blows up her spot by saying it actually does have to be "a little titillating" and that they have their own standards. Megan's like, but things are TASTEFUL on the show, right, and if she's not actually kicking him under the table, I'm missing a bet. In fact, if he misinterpreted the gesture, it would explain where the scene ends up going.

Speaking of which, Mel offers to get the check so they can all go back to his and Arlene's "pad" and smoke some "grass" and "see what happens." Megan naively agrees, but Don's subliminal detectors are on high as he tells Megan it's late while fixing her with a look that's trying to convey a visceral need to escape before it's too late. Arlene, her smile growing more lascivious by the moment, tells them that if they don't smoke "grass," (of all antiquated words of this era, that one just feels the most dated to me) it's cool, as it's not all they had in mind. Don tells her he's not sure he understands, and I think at this point he just wants them to say it so he won't have to explain it to Megan later, so Arlene puts her hand on Megan's and tells Don they like Megan, and they like him. "And we'd like to be friends." Mel tells them that this could be a "chemistry experiment," and just to be clear, I think they're talking full-on four-way rather than mere spouse-swapping, or at least a girl-girl show while the dudes watch. I believe in accurate reporting, even though with Don involved there's a better chance of ball-less octogenarian Bertram enlisting in the Army than this little love square coming to pass. Arlene and Mel push the idea for a bit, which I guess you have to if you want any takers, but Megan and Don hold fast to their frozen smiles and claims of having to get up really early, so Mel smiles to Arlene that they've heard "no" before, adding that there's no reason to skip dessert. I'm guessing Don and Megan will eat it faster than anything in their lives if the shock wears off enough to allow them to order.

Joan, Leo and Kate pile into a cab, and after Leo directs the driver to St. Mark's between 2nd and 3rd, he hands a bottle of liquor to Kate and asks if they've been to the Electric Circus. Kate's like sure, all the time, but Joan cuts in: "We're from out of town." Hee. Leo then suggests they see who kisses better, but although Joan humors him for Kate's sake, she clearly gives it about fifteen percent, so it's no surprise that Leo ends up making out with Kate in earnest. And while that might seem a bit awkward...

...it's nothing compared to what Don and Megan just went through, as in their own cab Megan giggles uncertainly as she asks what the hell that was. Don, also smiling, dryly parrots Arlene's speech about how they like them and want them to be friends. Megan can't believe how open they were, and Don tells her he thought Mel was going to ask him for a job directing commercials. "Maybe he was waiting for tomorrow morning when we were basking in the afterglow." Hee. Megan's smile fades as she wonders if they had this in mind when they gave her the scene, but Don assures her they must have made similar offers to plenty of other people without work being involved. Megan giggles again and she realizes she has to go back to work with them, and when Don asks her how long they've been married, she tells him it's been eighteen years. And hey, you two, you can laugh, but at the rate you're going, you're going to need some unorthodox measures to last half that long.

We see some projected psychedelic lights as Serge Gainsbourg and Brigitte Bardot'sBonnie And Clyde plays, with which I'm only familiar because a favorite band of mine, Luna, covered it years later, but given that it's entirely in French, it does seem appropriate for the activity we're witnessing. More seriously, though, the song is mostly performed with the artists taking on the identities of Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow and singing about how they can't escape their past misdeeds and how their greatest fear is that the other one will die. Don't know if it's meant to tie in thematically somewhere, but it's interesting nonetheless. Joan sits on the end of a couch sipping her drink and paying little attention to Kate and Leo, who are on the other end in much the same position as in the cab, which suggests fairly strongly who paid the fare. Another young guy interrupts Leo, and Leo introduces him to Joan as a friend of him. "Johnny" drops down on the available couch real estate and wastes no time kissing Joan, prompting Leo to gloat that he told him so. Joan wonders what he's referring to, and Johnny tells her that Leo predicted he'd want her, so I guess Leo got hold of Johnny earlier and told him to meet them there. Thoughtful of him! Joan gives Johnny an appraising look before putting on a sultry smile and leaning in for another kiss, and I'm sure some people in the audience aren't thrilled, but I think that if we could all end our really shitty days by pulling some young tail, the world would be a better place.

Bertram and Roger, in the former's office (another benefit of the expansion) chat a bit about the upcoming election when Harry enters. He's a little wary about how they may see him after the day's outburst, but they're all sunny smiles, asking after the wife and kids (he apparently now has twin boys, "Nathan" and "Steven," to join his daughter Bea). Understandably enough, he's wary of their friendly attitudes, but sits down regardless and tells them the kids are well. Roger then gets into it, telling Harry that his display of "initiative" really caught their attention, so they'd like to pay him a full commission on Broadway Joe, which runs to the tune of $23,500. Harry thanks them, but then is like, sooooo, anything else? Bertram turns a bit frosty as he asks what Harry makes in a year, and it's a bit less than the value of the check, but he doesn't flinch as he asks again about the partnership. Roger, at least aiming for a conciliatory tack, tells Harry they have to expand before they can offer anyone else ownership, but Harry's unimpressed, and tells Bertram that he should know how important he is because Bertram was him. Bertram, sardonically: "I was different from you, Mr. Crane, in every single way." Staring with having three fewer kids, am I right? Harry tells them that he's earned the money, "but I've also earned a partnership. I really hope some other firm doesn't figure that out first." He leaves, whereupon Bertram sighs, "That was the most impressive thing he's done," and Roger wonders if they should fire him before he cashes the check. If that's your plan, you'd better hurry because if I were Harry I'd already be in the elevator on my way to the bank.

Don's in his pajamas, sitting up in bed and watching TV, when Megan enters and wonders if he's going to be late. They end up kissing, and he wishes her luck. I'd comment on the fact that he didn't say, "Break a leg," when he's done so in the past, but the previouslies did it for me.

With Kevin in her arms, Gail enters Joan's room and tells Joan she's really waking her this time. Awesomely, Kate crashed in Joan's bed with her, both of them still in their clothes from the night before, and I wonder how drunk she must have been that Kate decided this was a better idea than going back to her room at the Waldorf. Gail tells Joan she's got an appointment, so Joan will have to bathe Kevin, but Joan groggily tells her she's still going to work. Gail: "Do you need to throw up?" It's kind of awesome that she and Joan have gotten to the point where she can ask that without judgment. Then again, it is the sixties. Joan asks Gail to give her and Kate a minute, so Gail withdraws, whereupon Kate remorsefully asks why she did what she did. Joan breezily replies that she had some fun, and now she can go home and be happy, but Kate somewhat bleakly says that she's really not Joan. Joan wryly asks why she'd want to be, but Kate is like, you came "out here" and you made everything happen, and then adds that she always had a husband to fall back on, while Joan didn't. Joan: "And I never will. How'd that happen?" Kate confesses that she only even talked to Avon because she wanted what Joan has, and this is as convenient a place as any to point out that this is illustrative of what I think is the episode's general theme -- wishing you were in someone else's shoes, that you had what someone else possesses. Joan tries to tell Kate that she's been working for these people for fifteen years and they still treat her like a secretary, but Kate sets her straight: "What's it have to do with them? You're there, Joan. And from where I'm sitting, it's damn impressive. I don't care how they make you feel; it's right there in front of you for the taking." I hope Joan comes to the conclusion that just because she doesn't like what she had to do to become a partner doesn't mean she doesn't deserve the reward, but any such thoughts will have to wait, as Gail, now dressed to go out, reenters and hands Kevin to Joan, saying she'll be back in an hour. She doesn't say so, but I wonder if Kate's makeover inspired her to make an appointment at the salon.

It's time for the pitch, and, in front of three photos -- French fries, a piece of steak, a burger -- Don says that the images are "tantalizingly incomplete. What's missing? One thing." He and Stan flip over sheets of clear plastic to add the words "Pass the Heinz" atop the pictures. Timmy is like, there's no mention of ketchup and this feels like half an ad, to which Don presents some crap about the consumer's imagination, and honestly, if this kind of concept was a proven success, it'd be one thing, but this whole negative space idea bombed so horribly with Sheraton that it feels like hubris for Don to be trying it again. Timmy smiles that it's "bold" work and he'd like to chew on it, making me realize I wouldn't want to play poker with him, so the SCDP guys leave with smiles on their faces...

...which fade most spectacularly when they run into Chaough, Peggy and an art guy in the hallway, and among the awesome things about it is that the two sets of three people stand regarding each other like this is the Bizarro Jerry episode of Seinfeld. Timmy's underling then opens the door and invites the CGC team in, and Peggy and the art guy can't wait to get out of there, but Chaough can't help himself: "I hope you left us something." Kevin Rahm really is great in this role; the way he consistently gets Don's goat never fails to entertain. When CGC is gone, Stan seethes about the previously unknown "bake-off" situation, and then Don listens at the door as he shoos Stan and Pete away. From inside, he hears Peggy use his "change the conversation" line in discussing the difference between catsup and ketchup and hilariously visibly winces, so it's just as well that he can't see that the art has both the word "ketchup" and the Heinz bottle, two things Timmy wanted. Still, as Don starts to head for the elevator, it looks like he's impressed in spite of himself.

Joan has made it into work, and she passes Harry and Scarlett with a neutral "Good morning," but, with a bit more venom, Harry amends it to "Good afternoon." Heh. When Dawn sees Joan enter her office, her smile fades, but she sucks it up and goes in to see her. Joan's face is initially uninviting, but Dawn, after closing the door, launches into a heartfelt apology before telling Joan that she thinks it would be fair for her pay to be docked to make up for Scarlett's lost hours. Joan dismissively asks who it would be fair to -- Scarlett? Dawn uncertainly suggests it would be fair to the company, and given that Joan earlier talked about the company footing the bill for Scarlett not working, it's no surprise her face softens here. After a moment, she gets some keys out of a drawer and hands them to Dawn, saying they open the supply closet and time-card housing, and Dawn's in charge of them now. Dawn's stunned expression quickly gives way to a smile as she thanks Joan, and while Joan assures her it's a punishment, there's no way she'd give this responsibility to someone she considers untrustworthy. Dawn heads for the door, but she turns back to tell Joan that she doesn't care if everyone else as SCDP hates her as long as Joan doesn't. Joan replies, "We'll see," and I only hope that's true.

The SCDP team has repaired to a bar, and Pete is trying to bright-side that it's only one other firm, and one as small as they are to boot. Don, however, glumly points out that he only pursued Ketchup because it was supposed to be completely secret, so he obviously knows that the Raymond hammer is extremely likely to fall. Don's day only gets better when Chaough and Peggy enter, with Chaough asking if they can "join the Lonely Hearts Club." Heh. He adds that Heinz bought J. Walter Thompson's ("the biggest agency in the world") pitch in the room, and Pete can't believe it: "We paid for that room!" I have to agree that that's pretty tacky, but we've got bigger, whinier fish to fry, as Ken enters and sarcastically announces that he just got off the phone with Raymond, who told him they were at the Roosevelt pitching Ketchup, "but I said that was impossible because how could that happen at my firm without me knowing?" Don replies, with a look askance at Pete, that no one was supposed to know, and it's kind of hilarious that this flameout is happening in front of Chaough, who I'm surprised isn't ordering some popcorn to go with his drink. Pete tries to say he'll straighten it out, but Ken tells him not to bother, as Raymond has already canned them without even the customary ninety days exit period. "There's nothing better than being known for your loyalty." He storms out, leaving an equally disgusted Pete to tell Chaough that "Vinegar, Sauces, and Beans is available. Help yourself -- it's a gold mine." Instead of piling on, though, Chaough chooses to try to commiserate about how tough the small agencies have it, but Don doesn't want to play and heads out himself. Pete tells Stan it was worth the risk, but Stan's eyes go to Peggy, after which he passes by her, his middle finger outstretched. She doesn't look like she takes the gesture too seriously, and all I can say is that I hope she's proven right.

The one-set seduction scene is playing out, and after what we witnessed earlier, I'm surprised Mel wrote it only to include two people. Damn Standard and Practices again. Rod ends up on top of Megan on the bed, some kissing liberally interspersed, as Don watches from the wings, not looking particularly happy, although the day he's had certainly can't have helped, nor can Arlene's fairly snide-sounding whisper: "You like to watch, do you?" The AD calls a halt, and Megan giggles in relief and embraces Rod as he tells her she did great. And her acting wasn't bad either! Arlene, hilariously gleefully, then calls to Megan that her "agent" is there, and Megan's smile can't help but fade as she sees Don staring daggers in her direction, but she comes over and makes a show of taking his hand, as Arlene twists the knife by saying the scene was "steamy." If she really thinks so, maybe the four-way wouldn't have been as hedonistic as everyone thinks. Megan says she just needs to change, and Don offers to "keep [her] company," which is an interesting way of describing what's about to happen.

Once they're alone, Megan goes on the offensive by asking what he's doing there. When he wonders if she's asking because she didn't want him to see the scene, she agrees that she doesn't know why he'd do that to himself, but the real issue is that he chose this day to visit the set for the first time when she's been working there for months. Yup, that's pretty bad. He asks if she was at least going to brush her teeth before he came home, and the fact that I think this might be the most hypocritical thing he's ever said is hard even for me to believe. She fires back that she's sick of tiptoeing around him every time something good happens to her, to which he replies by calling her a whore, and while he doesn't actually say the word, I'm still not even joking. She tells him that he couldn't stop what she was doing, so he settled for ruining it, and Don tells her to have dinner with Arlene and Mel instead of him. "They're much more open-minded." That's right, Megan -- when Don cheats on you, he does it one person at a time. He leaves, and Megan breaks down...

...and we cut to Don finding the penny waiting for him under the mat, and it's hard as such not to recall the time Madchen Amick referred to him as her "bad penny." He does always come back to being a dick. Sylvia opens up, and after some preliminaries that aren't worth discussing, they're settling onto the poor maid's bed in much the same way Megan and Rod did. Don pauses, though, to tell Sylvia to take the cross around her neck off, like that's a reasonable request, although it is an instance of a joke I made about Don being more influential than God coming disturbingly close to the truth. She doesn't comply, so he asks what she does when he leaves -- get on her knees and pray for absolution? Sylvia's unfazed: "I pray for you. For you to find peace." She holds her hand to his face, and he shuts his eyes for a moment, but then turns her cross so it hangs down Sylvia's back, out of sight. They then proceed to get on with it, and while Sylvia's praying, she might throw in a request for me to care about this plotline. See you time.

John Ramos is a writer and film producer living in Los Angeles. His new film, a documentary on online privacy and the sale of personal data called Terms And Conditions May Apply, recently premiered at the Slamdance Film Festival in January. You can get news on it from the film's Twitter account. Also, you can email John at couchbaron@gmail.com, follow him on Twitter at https://twitter.com/couchbaron, or check out his blog, "Pull Up A Chair," which he'd just love for you to stop by.