Previously on Wham, Bam, Get Lost, Sam: The men appointed Sam as their fearless leader for a bargain-shopping task, hoping to be rewarded with either a victory or an overdue ouster. When Sam and Nick got pushy about chasing the impossible dream of saving a few simoleons on a bar of gold -- perhaps the item with the least negotiable price in all of Manhattan -- it firmed up the fact that the former would not be forthcoming. The women, meanwhile, made a few strides toward harmony, although much of their success in that area involved simply putting a little extra distance between the discordant notes, if you know what I mean. When the numbers came back from the Supreme Calculators of Destiny, Protégé had delivered another utterly incomprehensible kicking of the men's collective corporate ass. Faced with his own failure, an unhappy but somehow still confident Sam brought Bowie and Kwame to the Boardroom with him. Much to everyone's surprise (especially those who have seen the Trumpartment), Donald Trump proved that there are limits to even his nuttiness, and he canned Sam at last. Sam reacted in just the logical, reasonable way you'd expect from someone who is speeding down the psychological highway about two exits away from Crazyville, and they very nearly had to drag him out of his chair so that he would not attempt to cut off locks of The Hair. Or...you know, unwind or untie or melt them or however you would come away with portions of The Hair. Ultimately, Sam got in the cab like a good boy and took the one-way ride to obscurity. Thank God. I don't think he's a bad person, but...my head was really beginning to pound. "Who will be fired this week?" asks Donald.
Credits. As this sentence is being written, the air temperature is a balmy twenty-two degrees below zero here at Miss Alli's house. That has nothing to do with the credits, I'm just sharing.
We swing into S4 during the weekly thumb-twiddling that takes place while the gang anxiously awaits the return of those who escaped the axe. Nick, Bill, Troy, and the Protégé Princesses are waiting around to see who will walk through the door. Amy interviews that everyone was "absolutely dying to see" what happened with the last three guys. She also says, however, that everyone would have been "in complete shock" had Sam returned once again. Well, apparently not Heidi, who knowingly informed us last week that Sam would not be fired. The door to the suite opens, and it's...Bowie...and Kwame! Screaming erupts, along with considerable jumping up and down, and Ereka actually runs over and jumps on Bowie, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Okay, that was a little funny. Great joy and celebration follows. In an interview, Bowie refers to Sam as "a cancer" on the suite, which is probably just a little bit of an unnecessary scenery-chew, and then he chuckles that Protégé apparently hated Sam more than the guys were aware of. Well, sure. Sam wasn't cute. The women only like cute. They believe in cute. It is their raison d'être.
We now go to a reaction from Nick, who disapprovingly interviews that when Kwame and Bowie came in, everyone "rejoiced like the Munchkins in The Wizard of Oz." Well, except with less high-pitched voices. Nick thinks this is highly unfair. "There are weaker players on this team than Sam," he says, as the editors meaningfully show Bowie. I don't know, Nick...I'm not surprised that the people who live in the suite are not especially dedicated to the notion of a perfect meritocracy, because the fact that the concept of meritocracy cannot possibly make any of them feel very secure, considering how much merit they have. "I'm pissed," Nick says on Sam's behalf. Oh, come on. There may be weaker players, but there's nobody who screwed up the bargaining challenge the way Sam did. Except for...oh, hey...Nick!
In a later chat with Boyfriend Bill, Bowie says that he would have found it embarrassing to be let go before Sam. Nick -- still stewing in his righteous indignation -- refers to the whole thing as "a witch hunt to take down Sam." That's some bullshit, Nick. First of all, Sam wasn't a witch, silly. He was a loony. Second of all, what took down Sam was the dumb-ass gold-chasing plan, and...let's see...who cooperated with Sam on that? Once again, you. Nick terms the celebration "despicable," as we see Bill and Bowie clink their beers. I have a feeling Nick needs to see some more things that are actually despicable, because when actual despicable behavior rears its ugly head, bottle-clinking is almost never involved. "[Sam] will get his vengeance through me," Nick says, and winks, as a funny sound guy throws in a little clanging noise. Heh. It's cute, but ultimately, I'm not buying. Sam did plenty to get himself tossed without anyone else's having to do very much, and when you find yourself the advocate for the guy who fell asleep on the floor when the team was on a deadline, it's time to rethink your position. And perhaps time to go lie down yourself, Nick.
The sun sets and rises, and it is the day. Funny how that works. The phone wakes up a lot of sleeping candidates, and when Kwame finally gets off his ass and answers it, he's told that everybody has to head for Times Square at 8:00 AM, with no further details available. The thing you know, they're all pumped up on caffeine and standing around waiting in Times Square, where Donald's limo finally pulls up. Donald explains that they are just outside Planet Hollywood, which was "started by some movie star friends of [his]." He forgets to add, "Most of whom are now frantically trying to run from it like Indiana Jones from that giant rolling boulder." Planet Hollywood, it turns out, is a huge restaurant with more than 250 employees. I'm pretty sure that's almost always more people than visit it in a given week. Donald reveals that, tonight, the women will manage the restaurant, and tomorrow night, the men will do the same. Whoever improves the overall income of the restaurant by the greatest percentage over the same night last year will win. George and Carolyn, as always, will be watching over the proceedings. The reward this week? Golfing at Donald's golf course. Feh, whatever. The rewards on this show suck, I have to say. If they were doing it again, that would be my biggest suggestion -- different rewards. I realize they're obviously all supposed to be Trumpocentric in some way, but there are only so many Trumpocentric rewards before it starts to look stupid. Send them out for massages or something, even if Donald doesn't own a massage parlor (though I find that hard to believe). I really don't want to see the reward where you get to root through Donald's underwear drawer. Anyway, Donald "I'll Take One Of Each" Trump wishes them luck, gets in his limo, and takes off.
Now, it's time for the teams to speak in general terms about how things are going to go, as they do so that you can try to take your mind off how wretchedly they will probably perform the actual task. Katrina calls the men "a lethal weapon...because they don't have Sam." Boyfriend Bill, in turn, interviews that the guys just cannot stand the thought of losing again, because it would mean being sent in "100% complete embarrassment" back to the Boardroom. Every time the guys think they've reached 100% embarrassment, though, they seem to be able to cram in a little more, so Boyfriend Bill shouldn't give up hope. The limping remnants of what was once the virile, vital VersaCorp gather in S4 for a meeting about the always-interesting project-manager issue. Nick nominates Kwame, claiming that it's because of the great leadership qualities Kwame has displayed thus far. Kwame interviews that Nick in fact told the guys that Nick would rather not be leader. Kwame thinks this shows a "lack of confidence," though I think it could just as easily show a "lack of wanting to be sent home, considering the events of the last two weeks." The men agree on Kwame. Nick interviews that, indeed, he made that nomination figuring Kwame will get the boot in the event of a loss, given the firings of recent team leaders.
Over at Protégé, they're making just about as much sense as they usually do, selecting Katrina to be project manager despite the fact that Kristi actually owns a restaurant in her everyday life. Katrina, meanwhile, is wearing perhaps one of the ugliest pink shirts I have ever seen, based on the revolting collar alone. It looks like she's got a cummerbund around her neck. Ah, strangled at the prom. Just another of those freakish high-school accidents. Kristi says that she probably will be "restaurant manager" even though Katrina will be "project manager." So the women have already created two levels of management to run a staff of eight. I think they really are getting a hang of corporate America and its quest for ruthless efficiency. Now, if they could figure out a way for the two levels of management to hog 96% of the reward if they win, they'd have the whole Fortune 500 culture knocked.
As the women talk, Assorama chuckles that, apparently, they are good at this sales stuff, since they sold $1300 worth of lemonade. And -- wait -- someone is high-fiving her! Who would be high-fiving Assorama? Things sure have changed around Protégé. Maybe she feels better since getting her legs waxed, and it's making her easier to get along with. Assorama speaks for herself on this point, saying that she "started to be a little more sensitive to the girls," and was working on "making them drop down their guard." By which she means, "I decided that, as time progresses, being an unrelenting bitch no one can stand might not be the best possible strategy, considering how inspiring seething hatred worked out for Sam." Ereka interviews that while she doesn't think Assorama is sincere about her attitude change, the attitude change is certainly making Assorama a lot easier to get along with. Ereka thinks Assorama has realized she can't keep going in the game if she alienates absolutely everyone. Ereka herself, of course, is not ready to learn this lesson, because one reformed pain in the ass per week is enough. The women chant, they psych themselves up...whatever. They are totally ready to sell Mary Kay cosmetics.
The women head into Planet Hollywood a bit later, where they are introduced to the layout of the restaurant and bar. They split up, and Ereka, Kristi, and Amy meet with the general manager, who tells them that only one-fourth of the sales at the restaurant is liquor. Kristi is intrigued by this, because liquor has a huge profit margin. This is why I only buy tequila by the tanker truck, by the way. Elsewhere, Jessie, Katrina, and Heidi are discussing the issue of people not coming in off the street. Heidi brilliantly notes that there are a lot of people on the street in Times Square, and she surmises that the best idea would be to get them to come off the street and into the restaurant. She is really smart. Heidi goes on to say that because the restaurant sells food and also merchandise, her idea for a strategy is to take the people who are out on the street and bring them into the restaurant, where she hopes that they will spend money on food and merchandise. See? I told you she was smart. Underestimate her at your peril, people. A camera guy who needs a girlfriend manages a direct-on shot of Katrina's boobs as the women walk into the restaurant. Hey, back off, camera guy.
I want to point out, by the way, that the women are dressed far more normally this week than they have been in the past. They actually seem to be getting the notion that it's not a good idea to dress for a cocktail party when you're supposed to be working. Aside from Heidi, who is still attempting to provide an easy sight line down her shirt, the rest of them are relatively appropriately attired for the task, which is kind of remarkable. So one point for them for that.
Kristi comes up with their concept for selling drinks, which is "Meet the Planet Hollywood Shooter Girls." It's a great strategy, provided that you assume a male universe, which they do, as usual. And also as long as you convince yourself that Planet Hollywood is a promising location in which to employ pseudo-celebrity gimmicks, because hey, that's probably something they haven't tried.
As if you didn't have enough reasons to hate Heidi yet, the thing we see is her dancing back and forth with shirts in her hands, sing-songing, "Eeextra-smaa-aaall!" Jesus. I feel like I should constantly apologize to Elizabeth Cady Stanton for Heidi's existence. And to Darwin, too. Hey, even natural selection is going to let a few stragglers through. Katrina interviews that they modeled the idea of the "Shooter Girls" after Hooters. Yes, Katrina. I got that. Not all of us have our mental motors on "idle." Isn't it life-affirming to see a woman who claims to be in the top 3% of real estate agents in the country expressing pride at being promoted to Hooters waitress? Oh, I'm sorry -- knockoff Hooters waitress. The time we see them, the women of Protégé are all showing their belly buttons and stuff again, so they're much more comfortable. Dressing professionally is for ugly girls, you know. If you don't wear thigh-high boots and fishnets to the office, it's only because you don't have the calves for it.
When we return from commercials, the title card of the week says "A Deal's A Deal." Trump interviews that once you make a deal with someone, you have to carry it through. If you don't, you're hosed. "Once you shake hands, that should be it," he says. After following something floating around Manhattan in a kind of American Beauty rip-off shot, we return to Protégé's adventures at Planet Hollywood. Tammy and Omarosa are outside handing out five-dollar coupons. Hey -- for food, people. They're not that kind of girls. Well, not yet. We'll see what week's challenge is. Amy, meanwhile, is writhing on the sidewalk like a woman who was in music videos ten years ago and still remembers a few of her moves. It's really charming. It would certainly make me come into the restaurant. Oh, wait, never mind. They don't care. They're managing a restaurant in ManWorld, where no one spends disposable income except men. Things degenerate to the point where the women are basically just milling around on the sidewalk yelling at people to buy shirts, and as Tammy explains, when George tracks down Katrina to ask her what the hell's going on, she just says they're "passionate." You can actually see Katrina try to bat her eyelashes at George, and even though you're looking at the back of his head, even the back of his head is saying, "Is she fuckin' kidding me?" Tammy explains that Katrina, despite being project manager, was unable to "coherently articulate what the plan was." Heidi despondently tells Katrina that the shirt-pushing thing just isn't working at all. "People are laughing!" she says. Well, that's just the eyebrows. (Rimshot!) Katrina consults with the group, and Ereka comes up with the idea of going over to find some tourists standing line for theater tickets and handing out coupons. Jessie thinks the coupon-pushing is kind of a loser idea, since coupons have a very small likelihood of ever actually being cashed in.
Nevertheless, some of the women head out onto the street to -- you guessed it -- hand out coupons. Heidi and Katrina, in particular, are dressed in their black, stiletto-heeled boots such that if I saw them on the streets of New York, I would literally -- literally -- assume that they were prostitutes. They just blew right by "offensive" and made it clear to "just plain fucking depressing." Also, Heidi's pleated skirt? Maybe fifteen years ago, sweetheart. They push coupons at the folks on the sidewalk, sometimes throwing in the "you get to meet the Shooters girls!" line, to which most people are understandably indifferent. I mean...it's New York. Wherever you are, if you want to see girls shake their asses, you're within a block of about sixteen thousand opportunities to do that, and most of them will involve girls more skilled at it than anyone you're going to find at Planet Hollywood, which in most circles in which I travel is regarded as only slightly less hip an establishment than Denny's. There's also a lovely moment when Katrina tells a bunch of guys who say they'll use their coupons tomorrow night that Planet Hollywood is closed tomorrow night. Now that is an interesting moment, cheating-wise, although apparently, nothing is going to happen as a result.
"I feel like I'm pimpin' it out," Amy (I think) says as they walk away from the camera. Good grief. Well, yes, there's a good reason for that, dear. Always follow your instincts.
Back at S4, Troy and Boyfriend Bill are running on the treadmills. Bill hypothesizes hopefully that in the face of the pressure situation they're now in, the women are "falling apart at the seams." He and Troy try to talk up the notion that the women will finally lose at something, while a stressed-out Kwame is in the kitchen eating a plate of something-or-other. Troy explains that while the women were out doing the task, the boys "did a lot of team bonding." It seems to me that they could have chosen to spend their time doing a lot of team planning, but whatever. One of their bonding activities, it turns out, is the Donald Trump board game. Apparently, this game involves negotiating quasi-business deals, so they're all very comfortable pretending they know what they're doing. At one point, while Troy is trying to sucker Kwame, Bill pipes up and tells Kwame not to go for it: "Never give up ownership." In retaliation, Troy interrupts while Boyfriend Bill is trying to sucker Kwame later. Heh. Bill gets irritated, and Troy points out that Bill started it. Bill agrees to stop if Troy will stop, and they shake hands on the deal, basically agreeing that they'll each let the other rip off Kwame, which I think is sort of amusing. Nevertheless, later, Bill openly suggests to Kwame a strategy he can use against Troy, and Troy sputters, "What happened to the handshake!?" Bill says he was just trying to help Troy, which is at least plausible, based on what Bill was saying. And, you know, after all? It is just a board game. Nevertheless, Troy interviews that he'll work with Bill if he has to, but that "Bill broke the handshake deal. Bill's a snake." Hee. Oh, come on, he's not serious. Okay, maybe he is, but it's still funny.
That night. Planet Hollywood. When the Times Square team returns, Jessie has brought some tables downstairs to create a quick-service area for appetizers. In a cavernous restaurant that appears to be mostly empty. Sharp thinking. [Eye roll.] She says that she could tell that Team Leader Katrina wasn't really thrilled about Jessie's actually taking initiative while everyone else was gone. Katrina determines that the tables downstairs aren't "being effective," which kind of makes it seem like she's feeling a little peevish toward the tables themselves. "Be effective!" I half-expect her to holler at them. Dissatisfied, Katrina orders Jessie to shut the ineffective slacker appetizer tables down. Jessie tells Katrina that as the boss, she can make the call, but that it seems to her that Katrina is irked that Jessie is thinking for herself. Katrina talks some more without saying anything, and then Jessie accuses her of "spazzing out," and Katrina gives her the old passive-aggressive "I'm not upset, except that I'm upset because you're upset" thing, and I suspect that somebody stole somebody else's Bonne Bell Lip Smackers right around this point, because that's the only way you can even get a fight like this. Then Katrina gives a bullshit interview where she claims that the fact that Jessie didn't respond well to her leadership "saddens" her, because she is so supportive of Jessie. Have you forgotten that Katrina is a good person? I hope not, because she certainly hasn't. Jessie gives an interview in which she says, in a very nasal and girly voice that I hadn't previously noticed, that she isn't sure they're going to win this task. The other ones, she felt confident about, but now, not so much.
Amy is busy being extremely obnoxious on the sidewalk, singing badly about how people should come into the restaurant. That would work approximately never, if it were me and my friends walking by. Just saying. You will be shocked to hear that Heidi is...wiggling. Because that's really all Heidi knows how to do. Lean. Wiggle. Flash boobs. Shake ass. Every time you see her, these are the things she's doing. Not exactly a full plate of transferable skills, there. Kristi gets an update, meanwhile, from the woman in the Planet Hollywood store, who explains that things don't look good on that end at all -- they're doing a crappy job moving the shirts and stuff, compared to last year. Of course, considering that Planet Hollywood merchandise is probably depreciating faster than a used Cadillac at this point, it's not that surprising that, every year, people want it less and less.
Ah, but the bar. The bar is the women's opportunity to shine. Heidi explains that they've decided to focus on alcohol, because it could take her half an hour to sell a t-shirt, but that she can sell the same amount of booze in a short time. Also, she can't capitalize on the fact that people are drunk in order to sell shirts, and she sort of needs every intellectual advantage she can get, if you see my point. Interestingly, the women have decided that a great thing to do would be to drink with the customers, which several business types have since verified in interviews is a terminable offense at any bar that isn't basically pimping out its staff, but...ah, well. Kristi interviews that "Heidi was the all-star queen of selling shots." I guess she found her calling in life. Why is she wasting money working in telecom? ["That just gives the phrase Coyote Ugly a whole new meaning for me." -- Wing Chun] Apparently, it's quite true, as we see Heidi leaning over two guys who have obviously told her that they've had enough. "You guys can drink," she says. "You can handle it. Come on, it's only three shots already." And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why they call her the Walking Lawsuit. She may move a lot of product, but it'll take her a while to make up the increases in your liability insurance premiums. Apparently, however impressive her head for business is, it doesn't occur to her that one priority when you're running a business is to avoid its getting sued into bankruptcy. And seriously, anyone who serves alcohol knows that you don't force drinks on people who are telling you they've had enough. I was about to say that Heidi's true calling in life might actually be as a Hooters waitress, but I kind of see her struggling with the entrance exam.
A guy buys a whole tray of shots, and the women all drink with him. Wow, professional! Katrina pushes another guy to keep drinking when he tells her he's had enough. Kristi admits in an interview that the real managers of the restaurant were obviously uncomfortable. She says that this is "not traditionally what they do." By which she means that the women are fucking up the business model of this particular restaurant, because in case they haven't noticed, it's not really looking to be Hooters, and it has no interest in going to court if the women send a guy out on the street falling-down drunk. I have to suspect that the manager also doesn't generally like to have skanky-looking boozehounds working in what's supposed to be a family establishment, but that part is a guess. To this end, the manager tells the women that he has a policy called "responsible alcohol management," and that there is absolutely zero drinking while working. Oh, and they really shouldn't be shoving drinks down the throats of people who have already had too much. The bar closes, and Amy says that they were successful with the shots, but that's about it. She thinks it's going to be close. They certainly did everything they could short of getting themselves arrested, in more ways than one, so let's hope all that effort pays off!
Manhattan. Clouds. The day. S4. As Nick mixes up some eggs, he explains that he is "waiting patiently" for his opportunity. As he eats in the kitchen, he voices over that he doesn't have to do anything, because "these people will eliminate themselves." In many games, I would agree with that strategy, but in this game, it seems pretty dicey. If you don't do anything, you can be a pretty easy target, and since it's Trump who's deciding and Carolyn and George are watching, if you really don't do anything, I think you can easily screw yourself. As the guys get ready to leave for their day of restaurant management, Heidi tells them, "Break a leg -- and I mean that literally." That is hilarious. Did you see what she did there? With the ironic twist on the old cliché? That was awesome. And fresh! The guys take off, with Nick voicing over that if they win, that's cool, and if they lose, they'll return to the Boardroom, where Nick is "feeling quite comfortable" these days. Heh.
The men arrive at Planet Hollywood. Kwame voices over that he feels obligated to "deliver a victory" as project manager, because it's the last opportunity for the guys to grab a victory before the situation becomes hopeless. Yeah, seriously. If they don't win something soon, they're going to start setting ineptitude land speed records. The guys meet around a table, and Kwame insists that he wants people working outside on the sidewalk, trying to get people into the place, and then he wants just "a skeleton crew" inside. Kwame, Nick, and Troy wind up working outside, while Bill and Bowie stay inside. So apparently, "skeleton crew" means "forty percent of the workforce." Bowie is working the merchandise counter, and Bill is sort of a roaming manager on the inside, starting out by meeting with the staff and explaining an incentive program that they've put in place. He tells them that whoever rings up the most gross sales per hour will get $100 for that hour. George mutters to Carolyn that he likes the idea, and I do agree that if you got each of 100 people to hustle five bucks more in an hour trying to get that reward, it's obviously a big payoff. The thing that's interesting about watching Boyfriend Bill in this situation -- not just here, but as this progresses -- is that he already looks like a manager. He already looks like an adult. The women don't have anyone who goes into a situation and looks like she's in charge, except possibly Kristi. What they have, aside from her, are a lot of women who are able to wheedle people into doing things, which is really not the same thing. Just ask Donald, who doesn't do a lot of wheedling his own self.
Troy and Kwame are working the crowd out on the street, and when Troy goes up to one woman and tells her that there will be drink specials, she asks him if she can have a drink right now. Heh. Troy, eager to please, calls inside to Bowie to see about her vodka and grapefruit juice (feh -- you're trying to get a guy to bring you a drink outside, and you can't think of a better mixer than grapefruit juice?). Bowie is forced to break it to Troy that you can't peddle booze on the sidewalk. Snerk. Yeah, even I knew that one, Troy. I think Troy and Heidi should be hired to manage the Trump National School of Responsible Alcohol Sales. Carolyn looks on with concern. The guys hop onto a tourist sightseeing bus, where they try to move some Planet Hollywood shirts, to no avail. Bowie is still out on the sidewalk being the barker, as is Nick. "Here's to the happy couple," Nick says to two people walking by. "She needs a drink, man, bring her upstairs." The guy looks back at Nick and says, "She's my sister." HA! Nick's like, "Oh, whoops." And then they both laugh, and the guy turns back to Nick and says, "And I'm not a redneck." Nick cackles. It's tragic that almost none of the candidates have said anything as funny all season as "I'm not a redneck." And that guy was ad-libbing! Bowie interviews that he's enjoying the "heckling" and contact and trying to get people's attention. It's not clear how much people are enjoying having their attention gotten.
Inside, Boyfriend Bill looks pensive. He's surveying the restaurant and noticing that it's nearly empty. Boy, if it's that empty, it's got bigger problems than Nick's failure to drag in enough guys and their sisters. Such as being about six times as big as it needs to be to accommodate everyone to whom it has ever occurred that they might want to eat or drink there. Bill says he thinks the outside guys are just not doing enough to get people into the building. Bowie brings him some merchandise numbers, and they're not so hot either. Bill interviews that pushing the swag was supposed to be Bowie's responsibility. We see Bowie trying to sell to the customers, and they're just not buying. Not buying the pictures, not buying the shirts, just...not buying. Nick tells Bill that he thinks they need to "step it up" and find some other way to bring people in. "We need some magic to happen here real quick," Bill says into the camera. He goes outside and makes it very clear to Kwame that they need more people inside, period, because they're dying. Troy says that "it's time to do something drastic," because they "need to be hoppin' [and] poppin' like a frog on a hot plate." Hee. Troy is an crusty old farmer trapped in the body of an underwear model. And honestly, what's not to like about that? The fellas of VersaCorp agree that they need to find some way to "create a buzz."
Back to S4, where Protégé is preparing to go out. Katrina says that they're going out for two reasons. First, because they "worked [their] butts off yesterday." (If, by "working your butt off," she means "drinking with customers and wearing XXS shirts," I suppose they did.) But then her second reason is, "We deserve it." Hey, how are those two reasons? That's not two reasons to go out! That's one reason, dressed up to look like two. Katrina can't count very high. The women go out for sushi (predictably), and of course, they spend their time dishing boys. As you do. They guess at what VersaCorp's members are currently doing. "Bowie's out yelling," someone suggests. Heh. Assorama guesses that Kwame is giving a lengthy speech about what he learned at MBA school, which...yeah, not.
In fact, what Kwame is doing is participating in Troy's latest venture, the now-famous, highly controversial, much-debated Autograph Thing. Troy has set up Kwame at the entrance to Planet Hollywood, and he's out on the sidewalk yelling, "Kwame Jackson, ladies and gentlemen. I got a New York native, Wall Street's finest!" All true, incidentally, at least at this point. Troy voices over that this was just kind of a weird idea he came up with, to get people to come in to get Kwame's autograph. Troy actually calls this his "creative spark of genius." He insists in an interview that he never lied about who Kwame was; he just told them that he was from New York and worked on Wall Street. Nevertheless, Troy points out that, after a while, Kwame started selling signed Planet Hollywood stuff. Nick comes by and observes what's going on, and he looks displeased. A skeptical woman asks Kwame whether it's for any kind of charity, and he says, "Just Planet Hollywood." I actually think it's enough of a money pit at this point that it might qualify as a charity, but I don't think that's what he means. But anyway, as far as we can tell, Troy and Kwame aren't lying, and if you ask them, they'll pretty much tell you the truth.
Back in the restaurant, a chagrined Nick and Boyfriend Bill talk about what a dumb-ass notion it is to have Kwame signing autographs. Nick interviews that he is "thoroughly embarrassed" by the way that Kwame and Troy are "selling balls and misleading people." Nick's reaction to his disagreement with what Kwame and Troy are doing, as it turns out, is to pout about it by standing outside the door, monotoning, "Drink special five dollars, drink specials five dollars." Now here's where he's less cool than Assorama. (Get a load of THAT, and be amazed.) She didn't agree with the dick ads, so she said her piece, and when she was outvoted, she not only continued working, but she took the reins in the pitch meeting and sold the campaign as well as she could. I really think she did her best, and even though she was absolutely awful that week, that part of her performance was admirable. Nick, on the other hand, is sandbagging the team's efforts generally because he disagrees with what two of the five guys are doing. And maybe he did try approaching Kwame and explaining that he was uncomfortable with it, but it sure doesn't look like he did. It's fine for him not to participate in the stunt itself, but there's no reason to sabotage the team on hustling people to buy drinks as some kind of passive-aggressive way of getting revenge on the other guys for doing something you dislike. That's especially true since he's also hurting Boyfriend Bill and Bowie, who have nothing to do with that stunt and shouldn't be rung up for it. So in the end, I have no patience with this reaction at all, no matter how sincere it is. Kwame interviews that Nick has obviously "checked out" on the task, which Kwame thinks is letting down the entire team.
Boyfriend Bill is checking out the progress numbers inside, and he says he's hopeful that by the time they get closed down for the night, they'll be on target to maybe get the victory this time. Oh, Boyfriend Bill. As Bill rounds up the guys out on the sidewalk and says that they've got fourteen minutes left to get people inside to order dinner, Bowie points out that Bill really came off like the leader in the task, rather than Kwame. Bowie says that "Bill picked up the slack completely." Inside, gearing up for the big finale, Bowie pushes drinks, Kwame keeps pushing merchandise (although it appears that he's no longer autographing it), and Boyfriend Bill puts together a dessert tray. As things wind down, Boyfriend Bill says that "it's gonna be a photo finish" as far as the win is concerned.
Night. Morning. Time-lapse. The day. As the women get ready in the morning, Katrina says that "running that restaurant was the hardest thing [she's] ever done." Sadly, I'll bet that's absolutely true. All that drinking and being "passionate" was so punishing! She says, however, that she looks forward to golfing. Troy, elsewhere, says he's "feeling fantastic." Everyone files into the Boardroom, and Donald eventually joins George and Carolyn on the Judgment side of the table, sitting across from the Judged. And now, for the reports. Carolyn reports on the men, saying that last year's take on the comparable night was $13,168. This year's was $14,069, which is an increase of 6.8%. Pretty good. George then reports that on the women's comparable night last year, the take was $12,592, and this year, they did $16,537, an increase of 31.3%. So the women won again. And again, it's important to note that those numbers are potentially total crap. It's not clear what they considered "the same night last year," or how they did or didn't correct for unusual events...I mean, one night does not superior business acumen make. Furthermore, a story has circulated that there was a signing at Planet Hollywood by Ashanti on the day the women managed, and no comparable event on the day the men managed, and if that's true, then the whole thing really was hopelessly unfair. But it did apparently help for the women to break Planet Hollywood's practices as well as risk legal liability to push all those shots -- oh, and also to help drink them. I don't know...I certainly don't believe that the women were four or five times better at that task than the guys were. I suspect there's a little more to those numbers than meets the eye.
Trump says that again -- again -- the women have kicked the men's asses, and that the men are going to the Boardroom. He asks Carolyn what the women did right, and Carolyn points out that they focused more on the bar, which has a huge profit margin, and that was a good idea. She thinks the guys spent way too much time on the sidewalk trying to move coupons. At any rate, the women are on their way to what Trump claims many people consider the best golf course in the state of New York -- his. (Of course.) My God, Heidi's blue eye shadow is scary. The things the pretty girls are wearing these days, I swear.
The men are left to shake their heads and await the Boardroom.
Back from commercials, Nick is getting undressed in the bedroom while Kwame tells the rest of the boys that he's got no team-leader speeches for them, but that he thinks "everybody knows what they did and how much weight they pulled." You can pretty much read between the lines for yourself, at least enough to know that Kwame just told them that everybody knows Nick did jack to help with that task. In case you don't get it, your helpful editors show Nick, detached from the group, putting his clothes away. Bowie interviews that the men are in "shock." He says it's like when your dog gets run over. "That's how I feel right now. I feel like a pet was just killed," he says matter-of-factly. There's something about that that really made me laugh, even though it's kind of sick. Normally, a pet being run over is one of those things that just doesn't make good fodder for jokes (although I have a great story about Smokey the cat, who got snatched from his grave by our neighbors' dog while we were preparing for his funeral), but in this case, Bowie pulls it off.
Sarcastically regal music (smooches to the music guy, heh) brings us to Trump National, where the women are going to be playing some golf. They cross the green in their surprisingly modest attire, and then a golf ball is whapped. Whap! Then, as the women show off their extremely poor golf swings, Tammy voices over that there are lots of business deals done on the golf course and so forth. Well, not when you play like that, there aren't. Bashing the dirt with a golf club is not confidence-inspiring. Heidi squeal-whines, "I don't know how to do golf!" And then she interviews that she "can't fake it." She tells us that she would rather watch a football game, because she would like you to think she's Tough Tomboy Girl Who Likes Football. ["Yeah, she's a beer ad, all right." -- Wing Chun] Much extremely bad golfing ensues. As they're playing, Donald and Carolyn approach them; Donald says that he's "had something on [his] mind," and that he'd like to talk to them. "Let's go into Carolyn's office," he says. As it turns out, by the way, this is where Carolyn works -- she's the grand poobah of Trump National. Assorama says that she "didn't know what to expect."
Everyone gathers in Carolyn's office. Donald tells them that he's not trying to ruin their day, but that he's got to be straight with them about something: "You are smart, dynamic, and attractive women. You beat the guys fair and square. But you're coming a little close to crossing the line, relying on your sexuality to win. Well...it's unnecessary. Carolyn?" Carolyn takes the floor. "Things like that aren't going to get you the job here. I want to know that one of you may be president of one of his companies." Heidi makes a skeptical bitchface, unsurprisingly. Two interesting things to note about that scene. First, can you imagine being so tacky that Donald Trump thinks you need to show a little more class? Did you see his apartment, for God's sake? That's freaking hilarious. Second, the fact that Carolyn made the statement about the fact that those tactics wouldn't get you a job with her was really instructive, because it reinforces what I was saying before: the really insulting thing about what the women are doing in assuming that every business task can be accomplished through ass-shaking is that it assumes a male universe. Carolyn's point, I suspect, is partly this: what are you going to do when she's the one making the decisions? Shake your ass at her? No? Then whatever show of competency you're going to use in impressing Carolyn, why aren't you using it anyway? I hate to give props to Donald Trump, but I was really happy that he used the word "unnecessary." He's not saying it's offensive (though it is, and I think Carolyn thinks it is). He's saying it's not necessary. He's saying, "You wouldn't be here if you weren't competent; don't act like you don't have faith in your abilities." That's the crappy part: they seem to be relatively intelligent, but ultimately afraid of relying on that intelligence to win. That's been the case in almost every task. They were smart, in many ways, about the lemonade. They were smart with the golf club and the leg wax, and they were smart to focus on the bar in the restaurant, even though they were stupid to push drinks on drunks and booze it up with the customers. They've handled the tasks relatively well, ass-shaking aside, so the ass-shaking comes off as gratuitous, and that's what I think he's saying. Just because you've got two possible approaches to winning doesn't mean you have to choose the path of least resistance. Get in there and be smart, for God's sake. The women leave the room. ["That was all right, but I was hoping they would be shamed more. Then again, I always hope reality-show participants will be shamed more than they are, just generally." -- Wing Chun]
That night. S4. When the women get home from golf, they tell the guys about the experience with Trump and Carolyn. An obviously chagrined Kristi says, to her credit, "They actually had to say to us, 'too much sex,' and that's embarrassing." Amy -- who had shown every sign of having a reasonably good head on her shoulders, until now -- looks around and indignantly says, "If being attractive is wrong? Then we did something wrong." Way to miss the fucking point, Amy, you moron. Have you seen Carolyn? She's very pretty herself. It has nothing to do with attractiveness, for God's sake. It has to do with the way you conduct yourself. I have to say, seeing Amy fall into the old, tired, ridiculous "They're all just jealous of me because I'm so pretty!" routine was a grave disappointment, indeed.
Now that they've reviewed the women's ethical dilemma of the week, it's time to move on to the men's. Troy tells the girls about his autograph plan, and how he was going to get people to stop in to get Kwame's autograph. Troy insists that if anyone asked who he was, Troy told them the absolute truth: "He's from New York City, and he works on Wall Street." Boyfriend Bill is not convinced. He explains that a kid who got an autographed ball thought he had "an NBA player's autograph." "Who said 'NBA'?" Troy asks. Boyfriend Bill tells Troy that he can dress it up however he wants, but that they both know it was in an ethical gray area. Kwame says that he, too, never lied about who he was -- "I'm Kwame Jackson, from Charlotte, North Carolina." Nick now jumps in, talking about how some little kid paid twelve bucks for a ball and that represented two hours of salary for the kid's dad. "I didn't sell the kid crack!" Kwame says, a little alarmed at the level of indignation he's encountering. This seems to set Bill back a little, as he was apparently aiming for a higher standard of ethics than "better than crack dealers."
It's so strange, because intellectually, I agree with Bill. I think Nick's take is a little over the top, but Bill's argument that it's certainly an ethical gray area, I agree with. But somehow, I find the notion that a person would spend hard-earned money on the autograph of a person they've never seen before to be so absurd that seeing that kind of attitude exposed is mostly funny to me, and I can't even bring myself to be mad at Kwame and Troy. It's kind of like "The Emperor's New Clothes," I guess. There's taking advantage of people's kindness, or their generosity, or their gullibility, or their compassion, or (in the case of evangelists) even their desire to get close to God. And all those things offend me a lot more than this. This was taking advantage of people's absurd eagerness to suck up anything and everything that they think has something to do with someone famous. And at some level, seeing that exposed was...oddly satisfying, and not that much of a moral outrage in my mind. Yes, an ethical gray area. But I just didn't react with the gut disgust that Nick and Bill did.
The subtext, of course, that nobody talks about during the episode at all is that people also found it much more believable that Kwame was an athlete because he's a good-looking young black guy surrounded by cameras, and for a certain number of people, that says "athlete." Again, it's hard for me to say how much I dislike Kwame for taking advantage of that fact and how much I like seeing it exposed and made to look ridiculous. Perhaps I can feel both of those things simultaneously.
At any rate, Nick walks away from the conversation while Kwame smirkingly accuses him of "grandstanding like Sammy." I really didn't like anyone in that conversation, unfortunately. Except Boyfriend Bill, and not just because he's Boyfriend Bill, either.
In an interview, Nick says he's sure Kwame will bring him into the Boardroom, and he insists that he's "formulated a wonderful defense."
Later, as Troy and Bowie relax in the living room, Troy warily says, "We're going to get a browbeating tonight." Bowie comments that they're going to be in a position of having lost half the team once this session is over. "We've been kicked in the nuts so many times," Troy responds, "that we're just disarrayed, and we're making stupid mistakes." I think that's pretty accurate, actually. Boyfriend Bill interviews that there's a very "somber mood in the loft" as Kwame prepares to take two guys with him to the final session. We return to Bowie and Troy in the living room, where Bowie is despairing that he thinks he could go up. Bowie and Troy agree that Nick is the one obvious person who needs to go up, and Bowie interviews that Nick seemed to just punk out on the task at the end. Boyfriend Bill pins part of it on Bowie for flubbing the merchandise, and Bowie, in turn, interviews that he pins a good part of it on Kwame for bad leadership. The guys roll their suitcases toward their doom.
In the Boardroom, Trump joins the guys. He immediately asks what happened. Kwame opens with the too-obvious line, "Excuses don't explain, and explanations don't excuse, so I'm not going to offer any today." Of course, he follows this line with an explanation/excuse, as I suspect has been the case with nearly everyone who has ever used that line. He says that they got beaten at the bar because they were outnumbered eight to five. "It was really because of numbers," he says. George is unimpressed with this argument. He tells Kwame that when you're outnumbered, you just have to work harder. George also thinks that they didn't approach the task aggressively enough. "Nick, you looked like you were dying on the street," he comments. "I disagree with that," Nick says. "I was happy, I was upbeat, I brought a significant amount of traffic in." That may have been true earlier in the day, but once he went into his pout, that was not the case, certainly, and I don't know whom he thinks he's kidding. Carolyn breaks in: "How many coupons were redeemed?" Boyfriend Bill admits that the coupons were not a very effective strategy. Carolyn says that they're all intelligent and capable, and that three of them stood out on the street for a good part of the day handing out coupons. She says that with the seed money they had (which turns out to have been $1500 -- thanks, Eagle-Eyed Forum Posters!), they could have hired people to stand on the street so that they -- management -- could be inside figuring out how to improve sales. Managers don't stand on the street trying to snag passersby. Well, right. They go inside and drink shots with the customers. That's how you succeed in business. Management must use its natural talents.
Trump asks Boyfriend Bill who he thinks did the worst job. He says that because he was inside the restaurant while other people were outside, he doesn't feel like he has any idea. Ooh, crafty, the way he just reminded Trump that he was the only one actually steadily working inside the operation. "Who blew it?" Trump asks Nick. "Kwame," Nick says. Nick explains the autograph situation, and he says that he just objected to that tactic and wouldn't participate in it. Troy is asked who he thinks blew it, and he chooses Nick, for his lack of "enthusiasm." Bowie chooses Nick as well. Nick brings it back to the autographs, rhetorically asking, "How can I stay upbeat when that's going on?" Kwame points out that it was the "same idea" as the women playing up the sex angle, and Carolyn looks at him dubiously, like, "Yeah, great argument there."
It's time for Kwame to choose the two guys he'll be bringing to the Boardroom. Kwame picks Nick very easily. In a closer call, Kwame picks Bowie. This seems to be pretty much a result of the fact that Bill and Troy have emerged as the team leaders, and the rest of the guys are scrambling for position, it appears. So Kwame picked Bowie partly by default, as he explains when he says that Bowie's "'A' effort" suffers only by comparison to Bill and Troy's "'A+' effort."
Trump sends Troy and Bill up to S4, and sends Bowie, Kwame, and Nick outside to wait in the lobby.
Back from commercials, it is night in Manhattan. Trump tells George and Carolyn that he would hate to lose Nick, but George says that Nick is "not a team player." Carolyn agrees, saying that he takes himself out of the game "whenever something doesn't go his way." Trump then points out that it could also be argued that Kwame did "a lousy job as the captain." George, however, sees promise in Kwame. I think George tends to take the long view, really looking for the bootings to be about who in the long run can work for Trump, rather than who screwed up this particular task. On the topic of Bowie, Carolyn calls him "energetic" and "enthusiastic," but Donald points out that he was the merchandise guy, and that the merchandise stuff didn't go well. He has Robin send in the guys.
Trump asks Kwame why, as the team leader, he shouldn't be fired. Kwame's entire argument is relative -- he simply says that he's a better bet than Nick. Nick speaks up and complains that the other guys are trying to get rid of him. Nick calls himself "the strongest here," as well as "a born leader." He says he was really dismayed by what went on the day, because he is "not going to participate in shenanigans like that." Donald asks Bowie whether he was in favor of the autograph stuff. Bowie says that at first, he wasn't. But pressed on it, he admits that as time went on, he kind of grew to think it wasn't all that bad an idea. Prodded by Carolyn as to whether he was "teetering" about it, he acknowledges that he was. Trump waves the Firing Finger back and forth across the row of guys, calling it "a very, very tough choice." He tells Kwame that he did a bad job as the leader, but adds that because he's seen some good things in Kwame, he's not going to fire him. He turns to Bowie, telling him that he failed miserably with the merchandise. He chastises Nick for giving up on the team, pointing out that that isn't a very helpful solution when something happens that you don't agree with. But at times, he also thinks Nick has shown "great potential." He wants to see what Nick has to offer in a leadership role. Therefore? Bowie is fired. And at this point, Nick smirks, which kind of makes him look like a dick. I understand being relieved, but it really does look like a shit-eating smirk, and it isn't at all flattering to Nick that he couldn't restrain it. Bowie's never seemed like a bad guy, and smirking at his firing comes off pretty tacky. The guys are dismissed.
Kwame and Nick get on the elevator up, while Bowie gets the elevator down. Donald post-mortems to the Viceroys that he likes Bowie a great deal, but that he didn't quite think Bowie "presented himself very well." He acknowledges, though, that it's been a very tough call -- the toughest yet. Outside, Bowie steps onto the sidewalk and then into his cab. Upstairs, Kwame and Nick return to S4 with smiles.
In his post-game interview, Bowie says he's just a little bummed that he never got to win a reward, because he thinks that would've been nice. He says that everyone will stay friends, because they all like each other, blah dee blah. Bowie's way too nice.
week: the teams are shuffled, because there just aren't enough guys left to call them a "team." The new co-ed squads try to make a thousand dollars into as much money as possible. A "serious betrayal" follows. Supposedly, you will be shocked by who is sent home. Eh. Nothing shocks me anymore.