Previously on Generations Of Women Struggled For The Opportunities I Now Enjoy And All I Got Was This Lousy Tube Top: The women and the men competed in an advertising smackdown supposedly testing their skills, but actually dominated by the whims of creepy Donny Deutsch and his Nipples of Renown. The men selected a 1950s-style ad featuring the enduring domesticity of American wives and that always-fresh "thumbs-up" gesture I've been hearing so much about. The women chose to stress that a penis is a penis, of course, of course, and no one can fly on a penis, of course -- that is, of course, unless the penis is the famous Marquis Jet! Deutsch and the Nipples liked the look of the big dick campaign, so the women emerged victorious once again, and they flew to Boston for dinner while the men prepared for the Boardroom. When the boys faced Donald, project manager Jason sputtered in self-defense, but could do nothing to explain away his complete lack of interest in meeting his actual client. Furthermore, for the second week in a row, attempts to pin the blame on Sam fell on wealthy but ultimately deaf ears. Ask not for whom the finger of Donald tolls; it tolled for Jason, who was tossed out the window onto the sidewalk, figuratively speaking. Thus did Trump spare the never-really-threatened Nick and the never-realizes-he's-threatened Sam. In other news, Ereka and Assorama hated each other, and they each thought the other was the most irritating thing this side of cheap soap. They were both right, which had a nice sense of irony, but little chance at leading to a peace accord.
Credits. I love how, at the end, it says, "It's Nothing Personal. It's Just Business." It's sad to think that the women would seem sharper if only they knew everything that the title sequence knows.
Trump Tower, S4. The remaining candidates are waiting in the suite to see who makes it back from the Boardroom alive. There is much nervous monitoring of the door. The music says, "Bowm [please], bowm [don't], bowm [be], bowm [Sam]." Ereka absently nibbles on something in one of her many tube tops. I love how these women are always sort of subconsciously shooting a Playboy video without even realizing it. Nick comes in the door, and everyone seems to view that as good news. But then Sam comes in the door, and they all realize that it's Jason who got the boot. Number of people who are happy to see Sam: zero. Out of twelve. That's painful. "Wow," Amy says unhappily. As Sam stands smugly inside the door, leaning against the wall, Troy interviews that Sam's gone up for review twice now, and that he's returned to the suite twice. "Trump obviously knows more than what us boys do," says Troy with a shrugging attitude. I can't really tell you why guys with southern accents are the only ones who can get away with throwing in extra pronouns and things and making it seem kinda sexy, but it's the case nevertheless. If a guy from, like, Detroit said, "He knows more than what us boys do," it just would not work at all. Troy adds that whether the boys like it or not, Sam is "eye to eye" with Trump right now. Heh, only if he's standing on a stack of telephone books. (Oh, right, like you would not have made exactly the same joke.)
Sam, with his jacket now off -- and you'll be happy to know it's only the beginning of the stripping -- sits down in the suite's entryway, right on the floor. "I'm going to sit right here," he tells the camera, "and...I don't care if I have to sit here for seventy-two hours. I'm not moving until someone comes over here and greets me at the door." Uh-oh. Somebody had better lay in a bedpan and a psychiatrist. Well, another psychiatrist. In the kitchen, the rest of the group is decompressing, and Nick starts to address Sam at some point and realizes that he's not there. But Nick does not go chase Sam down and make sure he feels included, because this isn't third grade and Sam isn't the new kid who just moved here from out of town, and they're not picking teams for kickball, and Sam isn't a nose-picking eight-year-old. IN THEORY. The rest of the roommates even call out to Sam, but he is apparently dissatisfied with this lack of adequate personal attention, and remains sprawled in a chair that he has now moved over into the entryway. If you're going to pull this routine, by the way, moving a comfy chair into the entryway is totally cheating. You have to sit on the floor. Otherwise, you're not pouting so much as you are moving the furniture. Sam voices over that he's feeling very indignant because "when [he comes] home to [his] parents' house, [he's] greeted at the door." And that's what he expects from these people. Well, let me tell you something, Sam. When I go to my parents' house, my mother greets me at the door, too. And she gives me a kiss and tells me there's a cold beer in the fridge, and my father points out that they're still getting mail from my undergrad school seven years after I last lived there so I really need to bite the bullet and let the alumni office know where I live, and then the dog joyfully runs around in circles because he completely forgot that I existed and now remembers that he totally digs me, and then...well, you get the point. But very little of that occurs when I enter a room full of people I barely know.
Nick, in an interview on the roof, discussing Sam: "Either he's incredibly brilliant, or he's half-nuts. But he's still here. He's hilarious. I love him." In a nice, witty edit, we go directly to Sam actually removing his pants in the hallway of scenic Poutyville, right there where he's still waiting. thing you know he's doing...is that a yoga pose? I think it's either a yoga pose or something he learned from a Chuck Norris movie. He's lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, and...well, suffice it to say it doesn't look like something you'd normally do wearing a tie and no pants. Although I suppose the only things that do look like you'd normally do them in a tie and no pants are (1) put on pants; and (2) run out of your apartment during a fire, so he's starting at a disadvantage, just as far as plausibility. Sam interviews that if the rest of them think his "wild man thing" is just a strategy, they should come watch him in his real life, because he's even nuttier. And he has not yet begun to crack. Oh. Well. Oh, good. Sam holds his pose. Funny music guy throws in a cymbal crash. Ta-da! Hee.
Light, nondescript jazz plays as Troy, Kwame, and Bill chat in the kitchen. Troy argues that the team is playing Sam all wrong, because all they're accomplishing by ganging up on him is making Trump more fascinated by his underdog status. Sam is still frolicking in the entryway, by the way, because apparently no one has yet come to fetch him. In an interview, Bill says that "the entertainment value of Sam is over," and now, Sam is just annoying and it's holding back the team. Sam does some push-ups, because you just can't be the crazy guy if you don't do push-ups. Ask Jack Palance. Sam still has no pants on, by the way, and when you can't even muster entertainment value doing push-ups in your underwear, you know you've got problems. Building on Troy's argument that they're playing the Sam situation wrong, Bill proposes that they make Sam the team leader for the task: if he's so brilliant, it'll play out that way and they'll get the win; if he's not brilliant, well...it'll play out that way, and they might get rid of him at last. "It's time for Sam to put up or shut up," Bill interviews. What I like about this is that they're not saying they're going to sandbag him -- they're saying they're going to give him the reins and make him back up his claims of brilliance with something more than endless metaphors and yapping. Oh, and Sam is still playing his own little scene from The Young And The Pantsless in the hall.
Later that evening, the women sit down for a little team meeting. Jessie says that she needs to air some feelings she's having, and that she would appreciate it if other people wouldn't interrupt until she's done. Katrina interviews that Jessie actually called this meeting because she was upset about the fighting between Ereka and Assorama, which they all know is hurting the team. On the one hand, I feel for Jessie, because drama is annoying. On the other hand, this is the kind of meeting that usually involves crying and blaming and stomping around and someone who won't stop looking at a magazine and the phone ringing in the middle right when someone is building up to her big emotional finale, and...I'm all for productive discussion, but you've seen these women. What are the odds? Jessie starts the meeting on solid ground, content-wise, by saying that she thought the display that was put on last night during the trip to Boston was ridiculous. Katrina cuts in, which helps no one:"I've never in my professional life seen women yell at each other the way that this group has done in a professional environment." I'm not sure how she can be so completely right and still so completely annoying at that moment. Katrina goes on to say that she could tell the pilot thought they were complete idiots when they were in the airport -- presumably while Ereka was yelling at Assorama about "threatening" her. And honestly, it's not like we weren't all noticing that they were idiots, so it's not as though the pilot needed magical powers. Katrina specifically says, "I'm not saying whose fault it was, I'm not pointing a finger --" At this point, Assorama gets up and declares that she's not staying for this conversation, which is obviously just one big attack on her. It's so interesting -- she and Ereka were both involved in all that silliness. By insisting that attacking the airport fight is an attack only on her, I personally believe she's betraying an underlying awareness that she's the one who instigated much of that to begin with.
Anyway, Assorama tells Jessie -- patronizingly patting her on the arm just like it says in 4001 Ways To Annoy People The Passive-Aggressive Way ["I assume that volume is subtitled 'If That's What You Really Think Is Best, I Guess I Can't Stop You'" -- Wing Chun] -- that if Jessie wants to talk to her, they'll have to talk one-on-one. And as anti-meeting as I am, that seems wrong as well. If Jessie had a problem just with Assorama, that might be a fair thing for Assorama to do, but the fact is that Ereka and Assorama have made this a group problem -- they both have -- by being unable to keep their fighting out of the way of the work the group has to do. So it's a group problem, and it's something that can't really be solved one-on-one. It seems to me that Assorama is leaving because she isn't in complete control of this situation, and she isn't willing to experience conflict except in situations she can absolutely control. She loves one-on-ones, because that's where she comes alive -- she tweaks and patronizes and steamrolls people, and that's harder to do when you're outnumbered. As Assorama is leaving, Katrina comments that she hates that Assorama never lets her speak, and when she does, Assorama speaks over her. Assorama respectfully listens to this and tells Katrina that she doesn't think she does that, but that if that's the way Katrina feels, she'll try not to do it in the future. HAHAHAHAHA...just kidding. That doesn't happen, of course. Instead, Assorama blows everyone off and walks away.
Amy continues the conversation with those who have decided to stick around by saying that when the time comes for tasks, the best thing for them all to do about the personal conflict at this point is ignore it. "Part of leadership is teamwork," she says. In an interview, Amy says that the one thing she doesn't care for about working with women is what she calls a "tendency to hold grudges," which is the same thing that I would characterize as a tendency toward over-personalizing everything. Amy goes on to say that the advantage in the way men communicate is that they can fight and argue and hate each other personally, but that they can put it aside when they have to and get work done. Yep. That's kind of what I was saying last week. I'm thinking like a candidate. Hey, I must be ready for my limo and my belly-button shirt.
We time-lapse it until morning. Heh, I guess Sam vacated Poutyville at some point. The silver phone rings. (What happened to the red phone, anyway? Did the White House repossess it for some nefarious use? I demand to know!) (Wait, I think that sentence was a PATRIOT Act violation.) Apparently, it is 6:00 AM, and the candidates are told to be ready to go to the West Chester airport at 8:00. Amy interviews -- hey, she's wearing that pretty coffee color I can't wear, too! -- that her only strategy with the tasks at this point is to focus on teamwork. I have to say, it's going great, the teamwork. I can't see anything interfering with the brilliant teamwork at this point, except the inevitable restraining orders.
Speaking of teamwork (and restraining orders), Assorama and Katrina are now engaged in a fight that has apparently flared up at some point in the morning while they're getting ready to go. As, I have a feeling, is her general approach to arguing, Assorama is calmly talking down to Katrina as Katrina becomes more and more frustrated. I've argued with people like that before, who refuse to react and just keep looking at you like you're nuts while they calmly insult you, and indeed, it is infuriating. Finally, Katrina goes from catty to cloying as she insists that she's "a good person." I hate to say it, but "good person," on its own, is kind of a meaningless distinction, and not really much of an argument in your favor. Assorama tells Katrina that, as she has said all along, she "didn't come here to make friends." It's a good thing, too, because if she did, I would think her strategy needed a few minor adjustments. Assorama insists to Katrina, as she always does, that nothing is ever her fault -- all the other women are just unreasonably sensitive. They bicker some more, and then Katrina gets off her only good line of the night -- or, actually, her only good line of the show so far -- when she snaps, "Life's too short to be a bitch." Heh. Yeah, that's totally my motto, except on days when it's, "Life's too short not to be a bitch," also known as, "Life's too short to be a needy, ingratiating doormat."
The fight escalates as Katrina asks Assorama if she really thinks she can be successful in the business world doing nothing but making enemies. Assorama insists that she already is successful in the business world, because she went "from the Projects to the White House." First of all, as the Eagle-Eyed Forum Posters have already discerned, it appears that her White House experience was likely inadequate to allow anyone you've ever heard of to pick her out of a lineup. Second, what does working in the White House have to do with success in the business world? Is Assorama arguing that everyone who could argue they've worked "in the White House" is some kind of brilliant, admirable business whiz? Is that even a job in the business world? Assorama also says that she was in a position to "sit with the President of the United States." I'd be interested to know exactly how much "sitting with the president" was involved in Assorama's job. I certainly do hope to hear more about that later, because...frankly, from what I've gleaned so far? It doesn't appear that she was exactly a close personal advisor. After all, she's twenty-nine now, which would make her twenty-five when she worked at the White House, so I somehow doubt her job duties involved drafting pay equity legislation as opposed to, say, stapling. ["Or maybe 'sit with the President' is some kind of special euphemism that only White House interns know about, if you know what I'm saying." -- Wing Chun] Rather than elaborate on any particular accomplishment, Assorama simply declares that she's "been successful again and again and again," even though she's using an experience from four years ago to prove how cool she is -- another reliable indicator of puffery. Why doesn't she ever brag about what she's doing now? Why doesn't she ever brag about an accomplishment rather than a status -- about something she's actually done, rather than the fact of having been hired for a particular job? I'm sure the White House has its share of unimpressive people, like all workplaces do, and if she's not one of them, then she ought to be able to point to something she did while she was there. You know, "sitting with the president" and everything.
But anyway, this goes on a while longer, with Katrina pointing her bony finger at Assorama a lot and stressing that her own successes aren't going to come at the expense of not being -- oh, yes -- "a good person," and eventually taking Assorama's arm as she's trying to leave, which she totally should not do, because hello? Personal space, people. Basically, it all just goes from ugly to uglier. Katrina interviews that Assorama has a tendency to "manipulate and backstab," so if Trump is looking for a cold-hearted snake, he's on the right track. Just when you think Katrina's annoying gritted-teeth interview is the most grating you'll see this hour, Assorama makes a very patronizing comment about how much pity she feels for Katrina, because Katrina really does want to make friends. Oh, just imagine caring whether anyone likes you. Some people are so naïve.
Amy interviews that Assorama's conflicts with other people are so disruptive to the group that sometimes she thinks they should just lose a task so that they can get rid of her and "move on." I have to say that, at this point, I don't blame Amy for that sentiment. Pragmatically, it does appear to be Assorama who cannot get along with anyone, and if she refuses to talk about it and refuses even to make any effort to address the behaviors that drive everyone else crazy, then I think the rest of them are within their rights to say that if you won't even make an effort to function civilly within the group, you can go. I wouldn't blame them for getting rid of Ereka, either, although Ereka seems to be able to get along with everyone other than Assorama, while Assorama seems to have several simultaneous diplomacy issues.
The title card this week that kicks off the task says, "The Art Of The Deal." Trump interviews that negotiation is a crucial business skill, and that you sometimes have to be tough and sometimes have to be soft, depending on whom you're negotiating with. Unless it's my bank, because then, the only effective tactic is a going in with a cleaver sticking out of your head, in which case they might -- might -- take pity on you. We cut to an airfield, where Trump's big ugly plane is sitting on the runway. I am impressed that the entire thing is not gold-plated. Trump emerges from the plane as he voices over that negotiation skills are born, not made, for the most part. Trump tells the assembled candidates that negotiation is "something that [he's] very familiar with." He goes on to tell a story about how people pay huge prices for little airplanes, but that he found that there were planes sitting idle in Nevada unused, and that's how he got his plane, which is no little jet, but a big old airliner. Pardon me if I'm failing to get into the spirit of things, but I don't think I actually need an airliner. I have a small family, and there aren't that many people I would want to take with me on a cross-country airplane ride. Maybe I'm failing to see the big picture. Trump then explains this week's task.
In this week's task, both teams will be given the same list of ten items. They'll have to go around and buy the items and negotiate for better prices. Whoever pays a lower total price for all ten items will win. Pretty simple, right? Donald says that they'll meet up at 5:00 this afternoon to see how it went: "Don't be late. I hate people to be late." Amy interviews that she thinks this task gives the men a natural advantage, because Troy, Sam, Bowie, and Nick are all dealmakers in their day-to-day lives. The Trumpliner takes off. With just Donald in it, I guess. Just rattling around in Coach, no doubt, all by his lonesome. At least nobody bitches if he reclines his seat.
Manhattan, 9:00 AM. The big news at VersaCorp is that Sam has indeed, according to plan, been selected as the project manager. In an interview, he happily says that he was selected to be the boss of this task. Sam says that you always know you could fail when you take on the task of leadership, and that he knows he could get fired. Nevertheless, on with the show. And, presumably, the insanity. Because, you know, it's Sam. The ten items on the list are as follows: one twenty-ounce bar of gold; one Big Bertha Calloway golf club; five pounds of fresh squid; cigars; a Polaroid instant camera; some other stuff, apparently, that we're not shown, but the last one is a leg wax. One team member actually has to receive the leg wax, and it has to be performed on both legs. Oof. Sam says in his interview that the big game plan was to...well, treat it like a big game. A big football game, more specifically. And I really hope you like the football metaphor Sam's working, because you're going to hear a lot of it. A lot. Of. It. Sam's plan is that Kwame, Bowie, and Bill (the quarterback!) will go out in the field and negotiate, while he, Troy, and Nick (the cheerleader!) stay behind and do "research." Do cheerleaders do research? In a comment I just love, Troy interviews, "Sammy's like Picasso. That guy is so far in left field, but he paints this powerful, disturbing picture. You just gotta be able to interpret that picture." Brilliant. I love him. It's the use of the word "disturbing" that makes that entire comment work. I think Troy's got a nice respectable streak of dry wit running down his back, and you know I appreciate that. I appreciate his back, too, but I acknowledge that that's not really relevant.
Protégé, on the other hand, is just splitting the team in half and dividing the list in half. Jessie -- who's taking the reins as project manager -- has divided the team up so that Ereka, Katrina, Heidi and Tammy (a/k/a Ereka And The People She Does Not Drive To Drink) are on one team, while Amy, Assorama, Kristi, and Jessie (a/k/a Assorama and the People She Can Get Along With For Fifteen Seconds At A Time) are on the other team.
Back at VersaCorp, Bill explains that the big plan was to have the boys back in the apartment -- Troy, Sam, and Nick -- be the "advance team" so that the boys in the field would just receive instructions on where to go. Already, that sounds more complicated to me than squid-purchasing deserves, but I suppose we'll see how it plays out. The "field team" jumps into a taxi and gets on its way.
Team Assorama is in Chinatown, and Assorama herself explains that they're trying to buy the squid. "If I can keep the ladies on time," she says, "then we'll be doing great." Because she's completely in charge, of course. Does "Ladies, ladies!" ring any bells? Seriously, she may be put upon by Ereka, but it's no wonder the women find her a pain in the ass as well. Who died and made her the Princess of Punctuality, anyway? Amy tries to buy the squid for ten bucks, and brings Kristi in to the salesman to "show him [her] tummy" so that he can see how hungry she is. Siiiiiigh. He turns them down flat. No sale. Yeah. I'm not buying either.
The men's field team, meanwhile, is on Canal Street, also having chosen to go to Chinatown. Apparently, there's a duck on the list, because that's one of the things they're in Chinatown to get. They also plan to pick up the squid and a "cheap leg wax." This, Bill explains, was to be "one-stop shopping." Seems like a pretty sound plan, actually. A duck, a squid, and a leg wax -- just a normal Saturday afternoon for me, too. Back at the home office of VersaCorp, the Home Team is doing some phone calling about purchasing the gold. Troy is told on the phone never to try to buy gold late in the day. Sam and Nick both remark that they need to send the guys to go buy the gold right now.
The Field Team is in the middle of getting directions from locals on where to find the squid and the duck (who, by the way, will soon be starring in the heartwarming Disney cartoon Eight Legs And Quackers) when they receive a call from Sam. He orders them to vacate Chinatown -- basically, to sacrifice all the work they've done so far -- and run uptown to get the gold. ["Which is dumb. I think that the gold bar was a trick of sorts: it's the one thing on the list that has a price you can't really negotiate, and which is going to cost the same wherever you go, so that concentrating really hard on getting a break on it is a poor use of the team's time -- whereas things like golf clubs and leg waxes can be dickered down more easily. So with the gold bar, they should have just bought it at market cost -- because they had no other choice -- and moved on." -- Wing Chun] Nick gives Bill the address of the place they're going on the phone, and then he starts to give Bill the phone number. In a truly bizarre turn of events, Sam orders Nick not to give Bill the phone number. Nick protests, at first not even understanding that Sam is serious, but Sam is both serious and insistent. It appears that Sam's strategy is to choke the information that the Field Team has, so that they don't try to improvise or do anything except follow orders. Kwame repeats in an interview that the idea of making Sam the leader was for Sam to "put up or shut up," and that this is right where the putting up or shutting up began, I guess. Kwame says he finds Sam's leadership style "downright unproductive." I am inclined to agree, because this is a patently, demonstrably awful decision.
Kwame -- who appears to know a little about gold prices -- argues to Sam and Nick over the Space Communicator that while gold does fluctuate throughout the day, it doesn't fluctuate so much that they need to drop everything right this minute and abandon everything else they're doing. ["My point. Thank you, Kwame, you are both cute and smart." -- Wing Chun] No dice -- they are ordered to go get the gold right now. I would point out that it took me exactly one search to find a chart showing exactly how the price of gold has fluctuated over the last three days, and making it perfectly clear that this instruction from Sam might, best-case scenario, have saved the guys about two or three dollars. It might just as likely have been cheaper later in the day. Kwame, in other words, is dead-on right, and it didn't take much of an "advance team" to figure it out, considering that my "advance team" is spelled G-O-O-G-L-E. Meanwhile, all the work in Chinatown is lost, and if they're paying for the taxi uptown out of their own money, then...well, you see my point, I'm sure. It's a horrible call from Sam and Nick, and it's one that was totally unnecessary if they had made even a minor effort to investigate before they sent the team on this mission. Sam and Nick both made the call to send them on an urgent gold rush initially, I'd point out, but it's not clear whether Nick remained insistent after Kwame tried to throw water on the idea using that daring strategy known as Logic. Sam certainly did.
"As soon as we left Chinatown, I felt like we were in trouble," says Kwame.
After the commercials, we come back to a nice shot of the Statue of Liberty. And then it's back to S4 and the VersaCorp home office. Troy says that, deadline-wise, he's starting to have some concerns. This might not be the case had they not called in the Chinatown crew, of course, but hey, let's not dwell on things we can't change. Sam is on the phone with Bill again, bitching at him again, telling him to buy the gold within the five minutes. Bill says that he's going to try, but that they want to get the best price. Sam keeps yammering into the phone about football metaphors, and My Boyfriend Bill is like, "Sam, Sam, Sam...." In an interview, Boyfriend Bill half-smiles and says, "Sam's crazy." Word, Boyfriend Bill. Kwame interviews that he doesn't buy any of Sam's crap, but that he's happy to just let Sam do his thing and "keep moving." That's really all you can do with a nutball like Sam, I think. Boyfriend Bill hangs up the Space Communicator, and the guys on the Field Team all look at each other and smirk. I like them a lot. I really want them to start winning. It's beginning to bother me.
Team Ereka heads into a store to look for the gold. The guy tells them that the gold will be $400. And see, I'm not sure his price of $400 even fluctuates with the one or two bucks Sam was trying to save, if you see what I mean. I think he might charge $400 if it were $398, you know? Anyway, Heidi insists that while Jewelry Store Guy was "very tough at the beginning," she "saw right through him." The women start begging for ten dollars off. "I like...YOU...and I want this gold Swiss bar from...you," Heidi says pointedly, unaware that she comes off like a complete amateur even when she's trying to play tough-lady. The guy laughs, because...well, as stated, she comes across like a complete moron. ["Also, she thinks she's sexy, but she's actually hatchet-faced, and it's unsettling when she Jessica Wakefields it up like that." -- Wing Chun] Katrina also begs for ten bucks off so that they can go have lunch. The four of them? For ten dollars? Never mind, I'm sure that's adequate -- I forgot whom we were talking about. "Pleeeeeease, Michaaaaaael," Heidi whines in an exaggerated tone, and this is where she starts jumping up and down and begging. Literally. Good Lord. Heidi and Katrina insist that they can tell he wants to say yes, and he says he does want to say yes -- so that they'll leave. Snerk.
Elsewhere, VersaCorp goes to buy their gold. They're quoted the same price -- $400. Bill asks the guy how much he's making on that sale, and the guy tells him he's making five bucks. Bill makes the guy swear to him that that's really, truly all he's making, so there's no room to negotiate. The guy confirms that indeed, it is. Bill can hardly believe it, because that leaves no margin at all, so there's practically nothing for him to do. ["Yep. Move it on to the leg wax, fellas." -- Wing Chun]
Heidi is back at the jewelry counter, and you will be shocked to hear that she is leaning across the counter so that Michael the jeweler can see down her shirt. She and Katrina offer to dance for him, and indeed, they then start wiggling and jumping up and down. In an interview, an unhappy Tammy says she doesn't think any of this routine counts as negotiation. "I think it was just..." and then she says a word that's a little hard to make out. I want to say it's "whorish," but I think it might be "coarse." Finally, Michael gives them their ten dollars off, and Heidi smugly interviews that he took a loss on the deal, but that they made him feel good about it. They jump up and down and dance more. I really, really hate these women intensely. More and more by the week. They get the gold for $390. Sold their dignity for five bucks each. Way to go, ladies, don't spend it all in one place.
Elsewhere, the Field Team -- not able to take off their shirts and get the dealer to take a loss -- buys the gold for $399. Bowie interviews that he thinks they're stinking up the joint right now, performance-wise, and that Trump would probably fire the lot of them if he saw how pitifully they're doing. Good point.
For whatever reason, Trump now pays a visit to S4, where the VersaCorp home team is working. He walks in on a meeting among Sam, Nick, and Troy. "Hey, Sam," Trump says. "I hear you're in charge." By the way, Sam is once again Being The Hat, which just makes this scene all the more excellent. "I am in charge, Mr. Trump," he says, shocked at the sight of the big boss. Trump points out that the men have been taking a beating. And then there's my favorite part, which is where Trump looks at Sam and says, "I never knew you were so short." I don't know why, but I find that hilarious. Who does that? Billionaires, I guess. Guys who really don't have to care if no one sends them Christmas cards. Sam laughs it off, you know, as you do with people who own your ass. Trump extends his hand to Sam, and instead of just shaking it, as he should, Sam has to go through a "you really want to shake my hand?" bit of nonsense that makes him look totally amateurish, but then they do shake hands. YES, THEY SHAKE HANDS! Don't miss it, because you're going to hear about it a lot more. The other guys are asked how Sam is doing, and Troy -- who, I think, is reading the writing on the wall -- just emphasizes that Sam is taking charge. Heh. Trump asks Sam whether he thinks the other guys put him in charge hoping that he would screw up and be fired. Sam allows as how it's a possibility. Trump points out that the way to keep that from happening is to win, and then leaves. Sam interviews that having Donald Trump shake his hand was one of the biggest moments of his entire life. Accordingly, Sam walks around the suite shrieking to Nick and Troy that Trump shook his hand. Troy finally forces Sam to sit down and close his eyes, and tells him that when he opens his eyes, he's got to put the hand-shaking aside. Troy is a good Sam-handler, I'll give him that.
Manhattan. It's about twenty minutes after 2. Sam is on the Space Communicator with the Field Team, which is in the back of a taxi. He gives them a location to buy the golf club, and he gives them a phone number. Boyfriend Bill flashes an amused, exasperated grin as Sam calls him "the quarterback" again. Sam reports that the Home Team is going to take care of the leg wax, so the Field Team doesn't have to worry about that one. Yeah, it's always good when you can relieve the quarterback from worrying about the leg wax. Once the phone call is over, Nick calls Sam out for all the endless talking and unproductive yammering, and, chuckling, says, "I think you like the Boardroom!" Sam asks Nick if he's implying that he thinks they're going to lose. "No, but I want to hurry up," Nick says. Heh.
Boyfriend Bill is on the phone with the place Sam gave them as a location to buy the golf clubs. He starts asking about the club they need, and then he says, "Oh -- you don't carry golf clubs? Okay, great, thanks." He hangs up. "Sam gave me that fucking number," he says in disbelief. In an interview, Boyfriend Bill points out that Sam and the Home Team obviously did zero research in suggesting this particular place, because if they had called at all -- let alone called to find out whether they could negotiate for the club -- they would have learned that the place doesn't even sell golf clubs. Meanwhile, the Home Team is leaving S4, and Troy is asking that Nick please not laugh at him during his leg wax. Heh. Troy's gettin' a leg wax, wheeee!
It is suggested that it's around 3:20, and we see Team Assorama in search of a leg wax. They stop at a nail salon to pick it up on the cheap. Assorama and Jessie go inside, while Amy and Kristi stay outside and Kristi comments that Assorama is "handling it excellently." Amy comments that, indeed, Assorama is "on her best behavior today." Assorama is the leg-wax-ee, and she interviews that she didn't mind "taking one for the team." Jessie interviews that Assorama is "a phenomenal person," and that she did very well once she was put in a situation where she could "shine." By getting her legs waxed, I guess. That's her time to shine. Rip off the hair, and out comes the sparkling personality. Amy comes in to keep her company, too, because Amy is clutching Assorama's hand during the "ow" parts of the waxing. Which I think are most parts, actually. Assorama even says in an interview that she has "newfound respect" for the members of her half of the team. She also says that she made "inroads in establishing trust." Well, yes. That's what happens when you act a little bit more mature and do a little less endless picking of fights.
VersaCorp, meanwhile, has chosen the most expensive place you can probably find at which to have your legs waxed -- a day spa. Boy, there's some advance research for you. Troy goes up to the counter and tells the women that he needs his legs waxed. His opening proposal is that they give it to him for free, just because the sight of him getting his legs waxed will be so amusing. "Absolutely not!" snorts the spa lady, which makes me laugh and laugh. Turns out that retail for a leg wax is being rung up at $80, and the guys got it for $76. I would again point out that it took me about two minutes on Google to find leg waxes in Manhattan for about $40. There's either more to this than meets the perfectly shaped eyebrow (limits on where they could go, for instance), or the research they did was complete crap. Or, of course, both.
The footage of Troy's leg wax, however, is delightful. Not in a porny kind of way or anything, but just because a guy endlessly swearing over the pain in his ass that is beauty makes my heart do little happy dances. The challenge should definitely involve climbing in and out of a car in the snow without snagging your pantyhose. Troy grimaces, Troy swears, Troy writhes in pain. It's almost as if he's having the hair on his legs yanked out by the roots. Oh, hey. Yeah. I encourage him to try eyebrow-plucking also, because it is not as impressive in terms of acreage, but it also hurts. In a very silly interview, Troy looks very solemnly at the camera and says, "I want everybody to know...that this is for the team." Hee. Wow, in that interview you can see how lovely and smooth his legs are. Hee, again. That's going to be mighty itchy growing back in, there, pretty-boy. More writhing. More swearing. More moaning. Oh, Troy. "This is just not right," he says, miserably staring at the ceiling. "This is medieval." Yes. Yes, Troy, it is. I encourage you to try a fourteen-hour stint in heels.
The VersaCorp field team is in the back of a cab, on the phone with another store, asking whether it carries the necessary golf club. It apparently does, so the thing you know, the guys are jogging down the sidewalk. They enter World of Golf (a magical kingdom ruled by loud pants) and start trying to get a deal on the club.
Elsewhere, Amy walks into a sporting-goods store somewhere else entirely. She seems to have talked to the guy behind the counter in advance, perhaps on the phone, because she knows his name and introduces herself.
Back at World of Golf, Bowie is asking what kind of a deal they might be able to get on the Big Bertha. The sales guy says there are no deals on Big Bertha. None, zero, zip. List price. "Firm price," he tells Bowie.
"Why is it so expensive?" Amy asks the guy at her store. He tells her it's the Chanel of golf clubs. She looks down at herself, and says self-deprecatingly, "Do I look like someone who would wear Chanel?" She does, of course, but he doesn't say so, because...well, you can't.
Bowie, to World of Golf Guy: "If I was in here a lot, would I get some kind of a discount...." World of Golf Guy: "Perhaps." Bowie, grinning: "Perhaps. So there is some way we can...possibly get some kind of a discount...." World of Golf Guy: "Not on that club." Heh.
Amy offers her guy cost plus 10%. She shrugs. "You're makin' money." He agrees to cost plus 10%, and they shake hands on a price of $300 on a club that retails for $419. I have to say, Amy did that very well, and totally differently from Bowie, you'll notice. I mean, much of it had to do with finding the right store, I think, but in a pretty elementary fashion, Bowie went in and tried to negotiate down from the retail price by begging for "discounts," while Amy went in and worked up from cost. If you've ever read any kind of advice about buying cars, that's exactly what they tell you to do, which is the absolutely only reason I know anything about it. I don't negotiate that way at, like, Target, obviously. Furthermore, Amy asked for "cost plus 10%," and then she was the one who immediately quoted $300, so I wonder if she somehow knew in advance the cost to the retailer of that club. If she did, or her team did, good for them. I'd like to think they've done something meritorious somewhere along the line.
Amy gets her club, but the guys are thwarted and have to walk out on World of Golf. Kwame lament-erviews that the guys on the Home Team only gave the Field Team one store to visit, and that the guy wouldn't move a cent. I have to agree with Kwame that Sam's "research" notion sucked, in that if he wasn't going to try to hunt down an appropriate and negotiation-friendly sporting-goods store, I mean...Bill, Bowie, and Kwame could have found a sporting-goods store on their own. If "research" wasn't going to mean any more than that, then it was a complete waste of three guys who could have been out busting their humps on other items. Although I'm not sure Sam has a hump. If he does, I'm not sure it's functional, busting-wise.
It's coming up on twenty to 5, and the VersaCorp Field Team is sprinting down the sidewalk. Bill interviews that they ran twenty-five blocks in order to make it back to Trump Tower for the 5:00 meeting. He gets on the phone with Sam, assuring him that they're getting the Polaroid camera right now. Sam -- oblivious to the fact that Bill is literally running through the streets as they're talking -- starts giving him more football metaphors and more pep talk, which could not be more the opposite of what's needed. Bill tells Sam that Sam needs to go over and get the cigars, because the Field Team doesn't have the time before the meeting. Well, and the Home Team isn't, after all, doing a damn thing. Bill assures Sam that the cigars can be gotten right over on Madison Avenue, which isn't far from Sam. Instead of just going, Sam asks Boyfriend Bill whether he's going to make the meeting at 5:00. Bill tries to get Sam to shut up, telling him that, indeed, they will be there. Sam launches into a weird, annoying, Tony-Robbins-esque speech about how Bill is on the field, he's on the team, he needs to calm down, blah blah blah. Nick seems to overhear Bill say to Sam on the Space Communicator, "Shut up for a second and listen to me," because he cracks up laughing. Nick then prods Sam to stop yapping and just do what Bill is asking, by going to the get the cigars. Sam decides in favor of continued yapping instead. "Execution," he says meaningfully. You can just hear Boyfriend Bill's brain saying, "I'll give you 'execution,' dude." Somehow or other, we see the guys snagging the Polaroid camera for $30, down from a listed retail price of $65. Wish we'd seen how that happened. Cheap store? Hard to say. With that done, they start running again, headed for Madison. And this is where I insist that although they let Sam be hoist with his own petard, they didn't intentionally sandbag the guy and fail on purpose. There's too much running for me to believe that was the case. Bowie tells them that he might lag a little, but that if he does, he'll catch up. Aw.
The hour of 5 PM approaches. Protégé is reunited outside the Trump Tower. The VersaCorp Field Team, meanwhile, is busy buying the cigars, so I guess Sam never did go and take care of that like Bill asked him to. thing you know, the guys converge on Trump Tower and everybody winds up inside, with George and Carolyn using calculators to add up how the teams did. Everyone goes into the Boardroom, and soon, Donald arrives. George explains to Donald that the retail price of all the items was $1379.32. The women were able to negotiate a savings of about 22% off the retail price. That's a savings, for you non-math-whizzes, of just over $300. The men, on the other hand, negotiated a savings of about 9%, or a little less than $125. Interesting factoids: the ass-wiggling at the gold counter accounted for about seven-tenths of one percent out of the women's 22% savings, so that was a lot of hooey over, essentially, nothing. ["I'm telling you, the gold was a red herring. Or something. You know what I mean." -- Wing Chun] Amy's handling of the golf club, on the other hand, was enough to account for almost 9% out of the 22%, as well as about two-thirds of the margin between the men and the women.
The women celebrate their victory again, as is now their habit. The men -- especially Sam, look very miserable -- as is now theirs. "I'm starting to think that I may never hire a man again," Donald says. Yes, based on this very scientific situation that is so representative of real life, I would say that's an excellent conclusion. "I'm very disappointed in you guys," Donald says. And now, it's time for the women to be given another rather lame reward, in my opinion. Trump explains how his father used to love to hang out at the Twenty-One Club, and has a table there, and how big a treat that was for him. They're going to have dinner at his father's table at Twenty-One. Eh. Sam puts his head down on the table in despair at missing out on this Trumpalicious reward. Incidentally, Donald throws in, "That's my father, Fred Trump," apparently apropos of nothing, and I would absolutely love to believe that's a tweak of Sam, a shout-out to that totally assy suck-up moment in the premiere when Sam used the name "Fred Trump" to try to make himself sound like Trump's best friend. If Donald did that on purpose, I doff my cap to his mesmerizing coiffure, because that is fuckin' hilarious. If he did it by accident, it makes him less cool, but the universe more spontaneously amusing. It's a tough call which would be a happier thought.
"And you guys, as usual, I'll see you tomorrow at the Boardroom," Donald says to the men. They're all dismissed. In an interview, Nick says, "I am sick and tired of getting our asses handed to us." Up in S4, the men discuss what a bunch of sad cases they are. Sam tries to put a positive spin on it: "We may have lost the war, but won some battles." Okay, first of all, dear, when you have to flip the cliché so that it means the opposite of what it's supposed to mean, you have a problem. Second of all...well, Boyfriend Bill puts it better than I ever could: "We haven't won shit, dude. We're going to be another man down as of tomorrow." Bowie interviews that he finds their repeated defeats "degrading." Probably a little melodramatic, but I feel for him. I think it's because so many of the women are so patently absurd as human beings that this hurts especially badly. If they were all like Amy, it would be easier to take, but they're...they're, like, losing to Heidi. Never mind, it's not melodramatic -- that is degrading.
The women all prepare for their evening out. There are many slinky dresses involved. "You guys enjoy, even though you won't have a good time without us," Kwame says. Heh. At the club, they all settle in for dinner, and Kristi oohs and aahs about how Trump used to come here himself. "How many deals have been made at this table?" she coos. Ereka is still excited about Trump's comment about never hiring men anymore. Yeah, he was totally sincere about that, Ereka. You've completely altered his reality. Congratulations. I also hate how she calls him "Mr. Trump" even when no one is around. There is no one I call "Mr. So-and-So" around my friends, that I can think of. Jessie interviews that the rewards do give you "a taste" of the rich lifestyle. The women all toast, and I notice that one of them appears to have a margarita. Ah, margarita.
After a round of commercials, we return, to shots of -- oh, yeah -- the Manhattan skyline. Did you miss it? Boyfriend Bill interviews that the mood in S4 among the men is not so hot. We see Nick sitting pensively on a balcony or some such, looking out at the city and thinking about strangling Sam. At least that's my guess. Sam chats with the women, telling them that he has to figure out what he's going to do when they get to the Boardroom. The oh-so-perceptive Heidi interviews that she's confident Sam isn't going home. Other people may think he is, but she knows he isn't. No matter how many times he goes up, Sam will return to the suite. "I would be shocked [if he were fired]," she says. You know, now that we've heard from the Oracle of Heidi, I hardly feel like I need to watch anymore. In the bedroom, Nick is obviously sucking up to Sam pre-Boardroom, because he reminds Sam that Sam knows Trump better than the rest of them. "You've shaken his hand," Nick points out, bringing up Sam's favorite thing that has ever happened, ever. In an interview, Sam says that he doesn't think he'll be fired, either. "It's just not my time," he says. How very Zen. Troy says he knows it's always possible that he could go, and that he makes no assumptions. Kwame theorizes that it might be Nick on the block, and that if Sam can convince Trump not to boot him, Nick might take the hit as a result of having been part of the gold-pricing fiasco. The guys get hugs from the undoubtedly hung-over women as they prepare to head for the Boardroom. "I'm gettin' sick of wheeling this suitcase," one of them remarks. Heh.
Night in Manhattan. The men file into the Boardroom and sit down. The big door swings, and Donald and The Hair enter the room. Before he's even seated, Donald is giving them crap. "You know, as a man, I'm so disappointed with you guys," he says. Yeah, it's not just themselves they're hurting. They've let down the entire testosterone community. He asks George what happened, and George turns to Sam for the explanation, given that he was the team leader. "I think we had a successful plan," Sam says, "and everybody understood the plan, and at the end of the day, although everyone did try, it was not implemented." Nice try, ass. The plan sucked. Admit that the plan sucked. Because the plan? Sucked. Donald asks Kwame if he thought what happened was Sam's fault. "Yeah. I think it is Sam's fault," Kwame says calmly, to a smirk from Sam. Kwame says that they knew from the beginning that two of the items with a large spread were the leg wax and the golf club. In fact, he says, those are the items where they got killed. (Yep, those two things account for almost all of the difference between the teams.) Kwame argues that Sam pulled them back when they were going to get the cheap leg wax, forcing them to go buy the gold right away. Sam wouldn't listen, Kwame says, to their response that there just wasn't enough difference in pre-noon and post-noon gold prices to justify being yanked all over town. Boyfriend Bill mentions that as far as the golf club, one of the two places Sam told them to call didn't even carry golf clubs. Truly, that was a bad blunder.
Nick the diplomat is asked whether he thinks Sam is a leader. He says that he thinks Sam "displayed leadership qualities," but that he wouldn't necessarily have made the same decisions Sam did. The question of Sam's leadership is posed to Bowie, and Bowie says he believes that Sam isn't able to be a leader, because the rest of the team constantly has to do maintenance to keep him calm and functioning. What does Kwame think? "I think he's already shown some success, but in your role, no, I don't think he'd be capable," Kwame says.
Sam starts to argue in his own defense. He claims that the whole thing comes down to "respect." If his teammates had respected him, it would all have worked. And who, Donald wonders, did not respect him? "Kwame and Bowie," Sam says. Now I ask you, what could Kwame and Bowie have done about the golf club? About the leg wax? What could they have done, beyond follow Sam's orders, which is what they did? Donald asks Sam if he respects these guys in return. Sam says he respects everyone at the table. "I have not earned the full respect --" "That's for sure," Donald interjects. Ooh, ouch. "That's probably the most true statement that you've made," Trump says. A debate ensues in which Sam insists that he needs respect in order to lead, and Trump keeps telling him that you can't just tell people to respect you. You have to earn people's respect. Sam just does not get it. Carolyn points out that even if you haven't yet earned respect, you sometimes have to demand it, and Sam offers that he "could have demanded it better." Yeah. You could have, but...to what end? They did what Sam said. Lack of respect was not the issue, which is what makes this conversation so bizarre.
It's time for Sam to bring two guys to the final table with him. Certain, I suspect, that he's not leaving, and not wanting to piss off the trio of more well-established leaders within the group -- Nick, Troy, and Boyfriend Bill -- Sam takes Kwame and Bowie. Trump says he thinks that Sam picked Bowie and Kwame because they were critical, but that Boyfriend Bill was critical, too. Like I said, I think Sam was confident he was staying, and he wanted to protect the relationships he most believed he still needed. But then, he's delusional and disconnected from reality, so I can't really claim to understand all of his thought processes. Nick, Bill, and Troy get to go upstairs to S4, while Bowie, Kwame, and Sam have to hang around.
Trump tells the Viceroys that he thinks "Sam is a total disaster." He also thinks, though, that the whole team made some mistakes this week. George is having none of it. He's pissed that Sam isn't already gone, you can tell. He's like a girl's dad who can't believe she hasn't broken up with her dipshit boyfriend yet. He calls Sam "the bad factor," and Carolyn adds that she thinks it would be interesting to see the team function without Sam.
Out in Loser Lobby, Sam tells Bowie and Kwame that he really believed they all respected him. Kwame says flat-out that he doesn't respect Sam, but he notes, by way of blow-softening, that Bowie does. Heh. In fact, it turns out that Bowie is a little pissed at being accused of not showing respect to Sam. As fascinating as that conversation is (yawn), it's time to go back inside, where Trump is waiting to deliver the bad news. He tells Robin to send the men in. As they go back, an overconfident Sam tells them gregariously that "it's a loss, whatever happens." In other words, "Whichever of you is getting fired, I want you to know, I'll miss you." Mm-hmm. Keep it up, genius.
Back in the Boardroom, Donald reminds them of the drama that is the Up Elevator and the Down Elevator. Life and death respectively, you know. He asks Kwame to tell him why he shouldn't be the one fired. Kwame takes an interesting approach, not really arguing in favor of himself as much as arguing that Sam is clearly the one who needs to go: "If I need to go home because I don't respect Sam, then I need to go home." I sort of admired that remark, because I sense that a lot of these people feel obligated either to be diplomats -- like Nick -- or kind of angry and dismissive, the way Jason was last week. Kwame's approach of just saying "This is how I feel, I don't want to work with the guy, if he's what you want, then you can send me home" is an interesting one. Bowie takes the anti-Sam approach to self-defense as well, saying a little too defensively that Sam should go because he's now shown that he can't lead and also can't follow. Which is an interesting point, actually.
And what does Sam think? Well, Sam starts in again about respect, saying that what he really needs is to earn the total, undying respect of his team. "Isn't that just rhetoric?" Donald asks. He tells Sam that Sam just keeps on saying that, regardless of whether it's true. "Isn't it over, Sam?" Donald asks. "I hope not," Sam replies. Donald says again that it appears to be over, and doesn't Sam agree? "Is what over?" Sam says. "It's over, don't you think it's over?" Donald asks. I loved this exchange. time I have to say something unpleasant to someone, I'm totally using, "It's over, don't you think it's over?" Donald points out that it's not just Bowie and Kwame -- it appears that Sam doesn't have decent relationships with anyone on his team. "You are going to see great successes from the men," Sam says. "Well, I hope I'm going to see great successes from you, Sam, but no longer with us. You're fired. I have no choice."
Sam's face drops an inch or so when he hears the magic words. His eyes lock on Trump. He glares. Trump tries to say a couple more things about how Sam has to realize he's been "on the edge" for two weeks, and couldn't go on forever, and so forth. But Sam is just...glaring. Sam doesn't move. Donald tells him he's fired again. He doesn't move some more. He glares some more. I'm sort of expecting that any minute, Sam's eyes will glow red, and horns will come out of his head, and all his teeth will fall out and his face will rot and the universe will collapse into a tiny point in space, because that is how serious this looks at this particular moment. Trump tells Bowie and Kwame to take the Up Elevator and Sam to take the Down Elevator. Sam is still glaring. He kind of can't move. "Go ahead, Sam," Trump finally says. Sloooowly, Sam stands up and makes his way out of the room. Out in Loser Lobby as he waits for the elevator, Sam manages a "Good luck, gentlemen" to the other fellas.
Back in the Boardroom, Trump says that firing Sam was "obvious." "It's the first easy decision we've had," George says. "That was a little dramatic," Carolyn adds with a smile. They all talk about the fact that this call was not particularly hard. Sam rolls his suitcase onto the Down Elevator of Doom. We watch him walk out onto the sidewalk. He makes his way to the cab and gets in. Bowie and Kwame head for the door of S4.
Pretty good, folks. It's a pretty entertaining show.
In his taxi exit interview, Sam explains that he now realizes that the handshake was Trump's way of expressing how much he believed in Sam, and that he desperately wanted Sam to win so that he could keep him. Or something. Sam is crazy. Goodbye, Crazy Sam.
week: according to the extremely hilarious teaser (HUGE props to the teaser guy this week), the men and the women are mightily happy to have Sam out of S4. The group manages a restaurant. The men do something kind of creepy, depending. We'll have to see. And Carolyn perhaps begins to smack the women around the way that someone desperately needs to. Oh, Carolyn. I hope so.