Previously on It's So Early, And Already I'm Well Over My Recommended Daly Allowance: Various celebrities, approached to participate in a charity auction, treated the candidates with varying levels of disdain. Regis Philbin was hesitant to be pimped out as a travel accessory to be packed in some wealthy person's Gloria Vanderbilt luggage, while Carson Daly suffered over being thought of as "the guy who says he kind of knows Tiger Woods." Isaac Mizrahi just wanted his name pronounced correctly, the Queer Eye cast just wanted Troy to avoid dressing in a manner tantamount to nudity, and Rocco and Mama might not have been able to make riveting television, but they can still make dinner for fifty. Assorama took her shot as the Protégé PM and made life predictably miserable for everyone around her, hanging up on people at random and refusing to let anyone else do anything and basically acting like a Grade-A, top-flight, board-certified pain in the ass. There was some flirty business going on between Nick and Amy, but Nick gave off a suspicious vibe that he would eventually turn out to be that most dreaded of species, Thinks Smart And Independent Women Are Sexy Until One Of Them Points Out That He Misspelled Something, At Which Point He Loses His Shit, Gets Drunk, And Angrily Finds A Pliable Idiot To Sleep With Guy. The charity auction raised $75,000 for the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation, which means these people did more good in one night than they've probably done in their combined lives up to this point. Assorama declared Jessie the cause of all of Protégé's problems when they took the loss, and when the team went to the Boardroom, it was Assorama, Jessie, and Heidi at the final table. Assorama acted like her usual condescending, obnoxious self, and Trump called her on it -- but Heidi and Jessie chose to smile through it. This confused and irritated Trump profoundly, and in Jessie's case, he found it so distasteful that he fired her for failing to defend herself. For the second week in a row, it turned out that he'd rather you have a spine than a heart. Amen, Donald. That's the theory on which most of my life is based.
Credits. In my life, I want to be introduced everywhere I go by a personalized stock ticker. If I could walk into a room and announce that I am already down 2 3/8 for the day, maybe people would know when to leave me alone.
Aspiring Corporate Weasel Death Watch, S4. For some reason, Ereka is bumming around the apartment in a white sweater, red pants, and a brown corduroy newsboy cap. What could have possessed her, honestly? Will she be shooting a video later? Did she lose her mind at the Street Cred Closeout Sale? Katrina asks Troy whom he thinks will be fired, as between Jessie "Putting the 'Con' in" Conners and Heidi "You Can't Delude Others Unless You First Truly Delude Yourself" Bressler. Kwame and Troy aren't so sure it'll be either -- things weren't looking so sunny for the inimitable Assorama, or so it appeared at the time Troy and Kwame fled the Boardroom of Horrors, leaving their distinctive Troy-shaped and Kwame-shaped holes in the wall.
Just then, Heidi and Assorama return from the Boardroom. There are hugs for Heidi. There are no hugs for Assorama. I'm telling you, it's all relative. Both women report that the conversation was "heated." "It got hot," Assorama smirks, "but I'm here." Heidi reports rather spittingly that it became "really ugly" in the Boardroom. And she's not talking about her eyebrows. (Thank you; I'm here all week. No, really. Did you hear I have three shows all of a sudden? I am saying that I am here all week.) Heidi furiously babbles that Assorama called her "unclassy and unprofessional," and she appears to be really peeved that Assorama had never told her that she felt that way. As if "unclassy and unprofessional" would have been all right with her, if only Assorama had said it more often. Assorama basically rolls her eyes, to which I'm not totally unsympathetic, because Heidi -- as usual -- needs to shut up. But I also agree with Heidi when Assorama gets all smug about it and Heidi points out that Trump called Assorama's behavior "repulsive." It's a fair point, after all. "Whatever, I'm still here," Assorama says. Yeah, it's hard to spin "repulsive" as a compliment, although if anyone could do it, she'd be the one to try. Heidi interviews that Assorama's "no class" comment only reflected badly on Assorama herself. (It's awesome that in this interview in which she objects so strenuously to being called out for lacking class, you can see what appears to be her black bra sticking out of the ultra-plunging neckline of her light blue sweater.) Honestly, I think the whole exchange reflected miserably on everyone who participated in it, but we'll see over time whether Trump agrees with me. I hope he does, because I love to be validated by the sickeningly wealthy.
Sunrise. We are treated to a shot of a travel bag of some kind with a Bed Bath & Beyond tag hanging from it. Why is the tag there? Is that product placement? Is someone too good for the menial labor of cutting the tags off? You're not Trump yet, numbskulls. Heidi and Katrina are brushing their teeth when the phone rings. Amy answers it. I have to agree with those who have noted this week that that pajama top isn't doing a lot to flatter Amy. Robin tells her that they need to meet Trump at Trump Park Avenue at 9:00 AM. I love how Robin is artfully arranged just in front of a newspaper headline declaring Trump "Master Of The Universe." Just in case you've forgotten, as a result of the way Trump hides his light under a bushel. We watch the candidates leave Trump Tower, and then we are at the construction site at Trump Park Avenue. I hope it's partially completed and partially open, because the signs on the sides say something about "Opening Spring 2003" in huge letters. Maybe Trump says "2003" when he means "2004," the same way he says that all of the candidates have IQs of 200 when he means that they all have body temperatures of 98.6 degrees.
We cut to Trump, whose Hair is looking even weirder and more helmet-like than ever. This is the first time it has really looked neither like real hair nor like a rug, but actually more like a hat. Made of…guinea pigs, maybe? He's standing up on some scaffolding or some devil-may-care crap like that, getting the update from the Mighty Mustachioed Developer on how the construction is going. MMD assures Donald that it's going well. ("So well, oh great one, that it will be opening six months ago!") The candidates are brought up in an elevator to where Donald is waiting in a half-constructed area full of debris and construction guys and other priceless artifacts. When they are gathered, he comments that Protégé has been "decimated" by losing two consecutive challenges after the reshuffle. Wow. Being decimated ain't as tough as it used to be. So now Protégé has only four members and VersaCorp has six. Thus, Protégé is being given two minutes to choose someone from VersaCorp that they would like to steal. After a brief discussion, Protégé comes out with their pick -- they're taking Amy. Probably a pretty good pick, all things considered. Amy nods sadly. Woe is Amy! She's being taken away from the Team of Love! And being placed on…the Team of Assorama! Woe is Amy. She smiles bravely as Ereka moans, "Bye, Ame." Because Ereka just wants you to know that whatever is happening is most definitely all about her. Amy walks over and gives a hug to Heidi (whatever), and Trump asks her how she feels about the switch. "I'm ready to win," she says with a phony smile.
Trump moves into his big pitch about how now, they're on his "turf." It's real estate time. He explains that he's renovating the building they're in, and when he's done, the units will be sold "to very rich people." Did you get that? This project is intended for rich people! In fact, the penthouse will cost $35 million. The candidates, on the other hand, will be working "on a slightly smaller scale." The PMs will be shown two Brooklyn apartments, and they'll "negotiate" for which one they want. Then the teams will renovate the apartments and rent them out. Whoever gets the highest markup over the market rent will be the winner. Their work will be monitored by the most excellent Carolyn and the slightly less excellent Bernie "NotGeorge" Diamond. The teams have three days starting today, and they need to be done by 5:00 PM on the last day. Heidi squeaks, when Trump is gone, that she's so happy Amy is on their team -- yaaay! Amy interviews that she thinks that Protégé probably chose her because she's the only person on the other team who gets along with Assorama. "Even though I don't really like her," Amy adds with a dismissive wave of her hand. Heh. Had I been Protégé, I think I would have certainly picked either Amy or Boyfriend Bill -- I think those were the two choices, so they didn't do as badly as Kristi did when she originally set up their team. I wouldn't have put Nick on a team with Troy and Kwame, because of the autograph-signing kerfuffle. We then have to get Nick's perspective on the loss of Amy, of course, and he expresses no surprise, but a little bit of the grand bummer at the loss of Amy from the team. "She's a great girl," he says. We then see him in an interview that I suspect is separate. "She's very, very pretty, and she's intelligent as well. She reminds me of my mom," he grins. Yeah, I don't like Nick, but that comment didn't skeeve me out nearly as much as it did a lot of other people. You're better off with guys who would mean that as a compliment, as opposed to ones who would mean it as an insult. As one of the Eagle-Eyed Forum Posters pointed out, it's not like he said "in bed" or something. Admittedly, that would have been skeevy.
As the teams plot strategy, still at the construction site, a little piece of drywall falls and hits Assorama on the head. Again, props to EEFP binkbink, who pointed out the following: "Even buildings hate Omarosa. Awesome." Boyfriend Bill deadpans that it "didn't appear to be that threatening of an injury." We then see Assorama claim in an interview that although she has "a little bit of a headache," she's "a trouper." For some reason, she holds up her bicep, as if you need strong biceps to survive a bump on the head. Maybe she's going to use her arms to hold up her head so that her neck doesn't have to...never mind, I don't get it, and I should stop thinking I'm going to.
Apparently, Troy and Katrina have been appointed PMs for the task, because they are seen in a taxi heading for Brooklyn to see the apartments. "Real estate is basically my life," Katrina brags. She yammers on and on about how real estate is her "passion" and blah dee blah, and you can kind of see Troy totally tuning out and listening to music in his head. As they get out of the taxi at the first apartment, he voices over that Katrina is "sharp as a whip." Smart as a tack, also. Yow! Troy predicts that she will be "a fantastic adversary." Presumably, by "fantastic," he means "amusing." Troy says that there will be pressure on him, but he does it in an interview in which he's looking in the mirror, which is just a little more sophisticated in the way production values than I'm really looking for from this particular show. Katrina then explains that they got a tour of the first apartment, which was located on Court Street. I like the apartment, actually -- especially the brick interior wall, which I think is stylish and interesting-looking. The bathroom, on the other hand, isn't looking so hot. They then head over to 3rd Street, where the second apartment is. This one is a little bit more beat up, I think, and the wood floors are in less admirable shape. The kitchen cabinets also look like they're hanging from their hinges fairly desperately.
Katrina and Troy adjourn outside. They both get on the Space Communicators with their teams. Katrina tells her team that the second apartment "looks like an absolute disaster," but she intones gravely that "if you have vision," the second one has more potential. Meanwhile, Troy tells his team essentially the same thing -- that his gut says to take the 3rd Street apartment. He doesn't say it with pretentious references to "vision," though, which is why he's...well, not her. Troy interviews that by the time he went over to talk to Katrina, he already knew they wanted the same one, because he'd overheard her (which, incidentally, is entirely her own damn fault) telling her team that she wanted 3rd Street. Troy tells Katrina that he'll let her go first and make an offer. "Troy," she says condescendingly, "why don't you just tell me which one you want?" He tells her, "I'll give you ten seconds, and then we'll just go straight to the coin flip." Which makes perfect sense. He's basically saying, "I'm not going to tell you which one I want. You can tell me which one you want, or we can flip a coin and the winner picks." It's perfectly fair. Katrina won't accept this, and has an idea where they'll exchange slips of paper. He says again that he really would rather just do the coin, so she goes all bitchy and passive-aggressive on him. "You don't feel confident in your decision?" He says he does feel confident; he just wants her to offer something if she wants to offer something, or else they can flip a damn coin, because he's not offering anything. "Are you relying on my expertise?" she snots. And then she makes this googly-eyed grinning "oooh, I got you" face that makes me want to punch her right in the kidney. For the simple reason that she is being such a smug, impossible bitch, he finally says fine, they'll write on a piece of paper. She looks at him all self-satisfied, going, "Country boy charm's not gonna work for this one." "Okay," he says. (In retrospect, that's extremely funny.) "You write down what you want," he says, "and I'll write down what I want." Take note of the wording.
She scribbles. He scribbles. Troy interviews that he found this whole "third grade" paper exchange totally ridiculous. But they do trade papers, and when Katrina opens his, it says, "I want what you want." Heeee hee. He interviews that he did this thinking that it would "get her goat." And you have to remember, of course, that she was being a complete snot about all her expertise, and he already knew they wanted the same place, and he had already suggested a coin flip to decide who would get to pick, and she had been all pinchy-faced about it. It seems like a totally understandable move to me on his part. Tricky, yes. But he knows it doesn't affect the outcome, and he knows she's trying to psych him out, so this is him psyching her out. It's brilliant, if you think about it -- he's making her think he took advantage of her in some dirty way, when he didn't. And he's doing it because he knows her, and he knows that this won't rev her up -- it'll just distract her and make her lose her composure. Which it does. "That's not ethical," she spits, suddenly dead serious now that she's not crowing about all her expertise. She interviews, "I think Troy is a sleazeball, I think he's despicable...he's the most dishonest person that I've ever met." Apparently, he's the most dishonest person that Katrina has ever met as a result of having done this one thing. Katrina has not met very many people if that's really true, because...that was tricky, but if that's the most dishonest behavior you've ever been exposed to, you need to get out more. Start with the online personals.
Katrina tries hauling out the old-fashioned gender stereotypes , saying, "Be a man, and stand up..." "Be a woman," he responds, which I loved, because he's totally right. "Be a man" and "Be a woman" are the same command, because what's appropriate in this situation is the command to be an adult, for God's sake, and quit your whining. He elaborates thusly, saying, "Be a woman, and slow your emotions down," which I also loved, because quite contrary to the flack he took for perhaps suggesting that women get overly emotional, what he's actually saying is that real women don't get overly emotional, they behave like adults, much as real men do. Wooooo! I love him in this scene. As Troy knew it would, and as he suggested from the beginning, the whole thing goes to a coin toss. Troy wins the coin toss, and Katrina winds up on the phone with her team, saying "despicable" some more and saying she's "sick to [her] stomach." Over that? Relax, dear. Take some Tums and get to work, seriously. "It came to a coin toss, and of course he got the one that I wanted," she complains, as if Troy somehow fixed the coin toss and is controlling the universe and all that takes place in it. Poor Katrina never had a chance. Troy, meanwhile, interviews that while Katrina is used to dealing with him as a "country bumpkin," she's learning that there's another side to him -- the one that feeds his family. Heh. "He's fueled me to the point where he is not going to win this," Katrina says to her team on the Space Communicator. "Ooh," Troy says, looking at Katrina, "she's mad as a wet hen." Though I must yet again give a thumbs-up to yet another EEFP -- the lovely bonster, who thought Troy said "wet ham," which indeed would have been even funnier. In fact, I may start using "mad as a wet ham."
We see VersaCorp heading to their Court Street apartment. Tammy interviews that only having three days to fix it up and rent it will be "a big challenge." The team sits down and comes up with some ideas to improve the place -- paint, obviously, but also a variety of other little projects. Boyfriend Bill says that they decided to rip out and replace the kitchen cabinets, for one thing, and he thinks the place will be "dynamite." Do people still say "dynamite" in that context? I have a feeling Boyfriend Bill is not a hipster. ["Not unless he pronounced it 'dy-no-MIIIITE!' Which he didn't." -- Sars] Katrina, by the way, has switched gears from being mad over losing the apartment to crowing, "You guys think this is bad -- you should've seen the other one." Yeah. Yeah, she didn't want it anyway! Stupid apartment!
Protégé, 3rd Street. The team walks in, and Assorama immediately admires the icky yellow-orange color on the walls. Again with the bathroom, however -- it's nasty. There's actually a great moment where Kwame (I'm pretty sure) falsettos, "The bathroom is soooo crusty!" Hee. Heidi complains at length about how nasty it is as well, only she finishes with, "I am not going in that bathroom." Right. After all, one should be able to sort through tasks, pretty much, and do only the ones that one feels like doing. Cherry-picking: it's what teamwork is all about.
The sun goes down, and we watch Protégé working on painting. Well, that is, everyone is working except for Assorama, who is parked on the floor looking at notes. She calls everyone into the living room. Why does she get to call meetings? They should have ignored her. Also, she's wearing a stupid-looking hat, and...good God, I think everyone knows how I feel about that by now. Amy interviews that, indeed, it was very frustrating to be in the middle of actually doing something and then to have someone who isn't doing anything call them all in to discuss what remained to be done -- which were the things they were already in the middle of doing. Stupid meetings. I have a Demotivators calendar from these people, but they also make this little desk decoration that says, "Meetings: None Of Us Is As Dumb As All Of Us." Exactly. Actually, this entire show is kind of one big commercial for Despair.com, so go check it out if you never have.
So anyway, Assorama is The Queen of Useless Meetings, which Amy chalks up to Assorama's desire to avoid doing any real work. I agree. Back in S4, Kwame tells Amy he thinks that they had a good day. Elsewhere, Heidi is on the phone, apparently getting some bad news, because she's quickly in tears. Long story short, Heidi learns that her mom has Stage I colon cancer. Which is very sad. And of course, I feel bad for her, because it's kind of the entire point of humanity that you retain some measure of it even for people you don't like very much. Good things and bad things both happen to everyone, after all -- it's not like cancer only happens to people who have likeable children, or like it's only sad when that's the case. So, you know, it's a shame, even though it's her. We hear Heidi tell her mom (I assume) on the phone that if Mom wants her to leave the show, she'll leave. It sounds like Mom doesn't think that's necessary. Troy interviews, "Heidi's in a tough, tough boat. To make that decision, just...I wouldn't want to be in her shoes." And we see him, while she's on the phone, come over and take her head in his hands and kiss the top of her head, which makes me love him a little bit. "I feel bad for her," he interviews, "and I know she's an emotional lady." Heidi cries a lot on the phone.
Back from commercials, the title card says, "God Is In The Details." Trump explains that rich people always pay attention to details, which is why they keep asking him what's going on with his hair. No, no, he says that's why he always makes sure that all his buildings are made of nothing but porcelain and Swiss watch parts. He explains that you always make an effort to fix up details, and compares the failure to do so to selling a used car without washing it. For lack of a ten-dollar car wash, two hundred dollars falls off the price. Probably true. But, I mean, did you hear what he just said? He just basically said, "I can put tacky, flashy crap all over an apartment, and people will pay a lot more for it than the flashy crap is actually worth." He didn't quite say, "The people I sell apartments to are stupid," but he came very close. While touring his construction site, Trump is wearing his pink tie again, by the way. Or maybe he's wearing a different pink tie. Do you suppose he ever wears anything more than once? Or does he just take things off at the end of the day and have them used to fuel the most beautiful wood-burning stove in New York?
S4. It appears that there is construction at Trump Tower itself, which wakes up the candidates and throws them into nasty moods. Or, in some cases, nastier moods. Ereka complains that she didn't get enough sleep, and then she felt frustrated by the inability to do more "on the marketing side." We see her filling out what seems to be an online listing for the apartment. She wants a price to fill in. Nick suggests $1800, and then he seems to say $1600, and Boyfriend Bill counters with $1700, and they settle on listing it at $1650. Tammy now opens up a whole different problem, speculating that she thinks the apartments may not get rented at all, given the short time frame. ["In New York City? That's the only time frame there is, Tammy. Get in the game. Wait…never mind." -- Sars] The rest of the team kind of blows her off, as they do, as she insists that she thinks failure to rent either apartment is the most likely outcome. Ereka snots that she should go to the other team, because she's setting them up to lose -- which is dumb, because she's saying she thinks neither team will actually get a lease signed. What Tammy seems to be getting at is that she wants to plan for that possibility and think about how the competition would then be decided. It's not really a completely ridiculous thing for her to bring up. But of course her team pays no attention to her, because she's pretty well established herself as Crazy Girl You're Better Off Ignoring. My least favorite thing about Tammy's weird behavior, actually, is that it gives Ereka something to act superior to.
Over at the Protégé apartment, Assorama lies down on the floor. Apparently, her drywall bump on the head has blossomed into a workers' compensation lost-time injury of some sort. Heidi, meanwhile, says that her mom is getting operated on this week. She points out that, actually, having work to keep her busy is probably a good thing. And I agree with that, too. She says that Mom wants her to stay, and she wants to stay, so she's being all strong for Mom. Which is fine. Doesn't change anything of the past behavior, but it's fine. Please see Jenna Morasca for details. Who knew I was going to need a general rule for unpleasant women with family medical emergencies? Oy.
Attention turns back to Assorama's injury, and Amy interviews that apparently, once they got more involved in the work, it turned out to be worse than she thought. Huh. Interesting, no? Amy says flat-out that Assorama used this "minor bump on the head" as an excuse not to work. Yeah, that's my guess, too. Particularly because of the useless meetings that appeared to have been called for the same purpose. As Assorama sits on the steps of the building, Heidi mutters inside about how much she hates Assorama. "I think she's worthless and useless." Yep, there's that class I keep hearing so gosh-darn much about. Outside, Assorama spots some kids playing ball and asks if she can play. Huh. Guess the head injury that kept her from working didn't keep her from playing, eh? My mother calls this rule "no school, no scouts" -- if you're too sick for the stuff you don't want to do, you're also too sick for the stuff you do want to do. So Assorama isn't that badly hurt. She's just kinda bitching, as usual, and doing just about what she feels like doing, as usual. And from what we see when she starts playing, she's not setting the world on fire playing basketball, either. Pfft, talk about "all talk."
Over at VersaCorp, Katrina brings in a general contractor who she has apparently nailed down for $1500 to do unspecified work inside the apartment. It seems like he's going to do the cabinets, but other than that, I don't know. As they paint the ceiling, Nick and Boyfriend Bill have a chat about the fact that they certainly wouldn't have been able to get the contractor in for that price. "It's a woman's world we're livin' in, Nick," Boyfriend Bill says. Yes, yes, it's very sad. I'd probably find that comment kind of tiresome and obnoxious if the women hadn't already proved that they do in fact use sex for everything, so I can't blame the guys for their chosen hypothesis as to how this came to be. I wonder how many times you have to jump up and down to get a laminate countertop. Anyway, Tammy doesn't like the way some of the paint is drying, so Boyfriend Bill bets her fifty bucks that it will dry fine, and she accepts. Boyfriend Bill interviews that Tammy, again, wasn't "on the same page" as the team. There's a little montage here of Tammy being flaky, but there's nothing that's very clear, as far as things you would call her out on. Katrina is bitching to Bill and Nick that she told Tammy not to talk to the contractor, so I'm sure Tammy was being her usual weird self, but in some ways, it would have been more helpful to see at least one example of something worse than Tammy making a request that the contractors say they can't accommodate, which is really all we see. Katrina then interviews that Tammy "only creates obstacles" and "adds no value to the team." Hee, "adds value." Katrina has been spending way too much time with people who read their employers' mission statements regularly. Katrina then giggles to one of the construction guys that he should ignore Tammy because she's "crazy."
The day, Boyfriend Bill says that the unit turned out to be "incredible." He claims that they put "$20,000 worth of work" into it, which...no. Just...no. I mean, they did fix up the kitchen cabinets, and they did clean the bathroom. Other than that, I'm a little baffled about where he thinks $20,000 would have gone. Katrina crows in an interview that her "expertise" was really key, and she "can't imagine that Troy would have been able to even come close to the quality of work that I produced." And when she says "I," she means "the person I hired." I doubt she draws a distinction.
Over at the Protégé apartment, Troy says that he feels excited. His team has done away with the horrible orange walls, added nice-looking curtains that emphasize the big windows, fixed up and painted the bathroom, and vastly improved the look of the kitchen. "We need to beat them," he says with a smile.
A timestamp claims that it's 1:23 PM at 3rd Street, and Protégé is showing the apartment to a woman in a raspberry sweater. They then show it to some other people, including some guys who look at the apartment with revulsion as if it has ex-convicts living in the walls. I think it looks nice -- I don't know what that guy's problem is. Troy says that they're just looking to rent it at this point, and they'll be taking the first person who makes them a decent offer.
VersaCorp, 2:08 PM. They put out a welcome mat, and Katrina says that the rest of them need to get out so that Bill can show the apartment. They've apparently decided that having everyone in there would be overwhelming. For some reason, Ereka is standing outside on the street with flyers, waiting to accost people who are coming to the open house they're having. Talk about not adding value. Cripes. Up in the apartment a few minutes later, an argument flares up. Bill is frustrated because there's no one coming to the open house, while Ereka counters that there's just no one coming by, so there's nothing she can do. Bill says that they shouldn't all be sitting inside the apartment -- they should be out trying to bring people in. "We just came in for five minutes, Bill," Ereka says dismissively. Because, you know, no hurry. She irritates him, and he says to her, "I'm not hard of hearing, Ereka. Please be quiet." They bicker some more, and he interviews that he's pretty nervous, because they've only got about three hours to get somebody in, get credit approved, and get the lease signed. "By three o'clock," he says, "I'm going to be in Operation Panic Mode."
After the commercials, Bill is explaining to a potential tenant (who, incidentally, is more than looking at him and thinking, "Boyfriend Biiiiiiiiill") that he wants to work it out with her so she can rent the place. Katrina happily explains that it's 4:15 now, and they've almost got it sorted. The tenant asks if they can do $1600 for the rent, and Boyfriend Bill moans with the injustice of it all. He gets her to $1650 -- which you will recall is what they settled on back in the apartment. Boyfriend Bill interviews that it's a ten-percent markup over the $1500 assessed value they started with, so he's pleased. The team high-fives. Bill interviews that he does have some lingering concern that the other team might have done better, but he's not sure.
It's 4:51 at Protégé, and the team knows that they need to stop showing the place and rent it. A woman comes by and says she's interested. This woman, by the way, wrote something that was discovered and posted in the media thread, in which she explained all this backstory about how she was going to rent the place before, and the landlord then reneged to give it to the show, and she only accepted the deal with Protégé because the landlord promised her on the sly that he'd drop the rent afterwards, so...take it for what you will. She sounded like an absolutely insufferable snot, among other things, so I'm not inclined to give a rip what she has to say. Anyway, Protégé talks about what a relief it was to get the apartment rented. And now, Heidi: "Everything I do, every action I take, I always think, 'What would my family think?'" And it's just not necessary to overstate like that, I don't think. No one actually operates that way, nor should they. And I kinda don't believe it about her, either. Enough said. Troy thinks it's cool that she stayed on task despite her personal troubles. Me, too.
Night falls. S4. Boyfriend Bill is strolling around with no sleeves, because...well, it's probably not technically for me, but I appreciate it. (I also appreciate the Couch Baron pointing it out to me in case I was going to miss it.) Assorama insists to Tammy in one of the bedrooms that she's been a headache for three days. Oh, no, wait -- she's had a headache for three days. Sorry. Got a little confused. Maybe a piece of sheetrock fell on me. Assorama says, however, that her head is just "a little tender," nothing serious. Katrina takes the opportunity in an interview to compare Assorama's head bump with Heidi's mom situation, and to point out that Heidi was less whiny. Which is true. (And also Katrina really hates drama queens, with the possible exception of people who get mad as wet hams at the slightest provocation.) This Heidi-liking segment is all edited with the music and the smiling to make me like Heidi, which I still don't. Sorry. I mean, I'm glad she kept working, but...no. There's been too much ass-wiggling, leaning, jumping up and down, crowing, bitching, moaning, and protest-too-much-ing.
The day, it's a parade of people getting ready to go to the early Boardroom meeting, which means there is all sorts of towel-wearing going on. Nick says he felt very good going into the Boardroom, and it could be "a positive attitude" or it could be "craziness." Or, of course, both. Troy points out that he's the PM, so if they win, that's cool, and if they lose, it's kind of bad for him. Thanks for the insight, there, Troy. Katrina can only talk about how excited she is about seeing Troy's face if her team wins. "The only way that Troy could have won," she says, "is by pure luck." Oh, I love pride. I mean, I love the good kind of pride, but the seven-deadly-sins kind of pride is even better.
In the Boardroom, Carolyn is smartly dressed in a red sweater, staring at the candidates. I love Carolyn. Don't know why -- just do. They all sit down. Trump has a seat. Carolyn says that she thinks VersaCorp did a great job. She says that the original rent was $1500; they rented it for $1650, which -- as Boyfriend Bill said -- was a ten-percent markup. Bernie explains that Protégé's original rent was $1200. They rented the place for $1525. That's a twenty-seven percent increase and a win for Protégé, if you're keeping score at home. So Protégé gets the victory. Unbelievably, Katrina brings up the paper exchange in the Boardroom, as if she actually thinks it's going to nullify the results of the task. "Troy didn't play by the rules of the game," she smirks, as if she has just unveiled some major scandal. Not only did Troy play by the rules of the game, sweetheart -- Troy did just what he said he was going to do. He said he would write down what he wanted, and he did. She's about as likely to impress with this line of argument as she is with her "I'm a good person" mantra. Ereka declares that Troy "didn't know what he wanted," and Boyfriend Bill agrees, and frankly, they're both wrong. Just flat wrong. Trump asks Troy if he knew what he wanted. "Absolutely," he says calmly. "She got emotional, and she attacked me personally." Both true. "I got emotional?" Katrina says, kind of freaking out and proving his point. "Did I cry, Troy? Look at me in the eyes, Troy, did I cry?" Good God. There are other ways of getting emotional, Katrina, like just generally losing your shit, as you're doing right now. It's bizarre to me that she is the one in this exchange who equates "getting emotional" with crying, because obviously crying is not what he's talking about. He's talking about taking everything personally and flipping your lid, as she just did.
Troy just repeats, very calmly, "She got elevated, and she attacked me personally." Which is true. She is...really a huge embarrassment. Of all the dumb women, she might be the dumbest. Trump asks if she thinks Troy is dishonest. "He's extremely dishonest!" she hollers, completely out of proportion to the situation. "Business in New York is a tough deal," Trump tells her. "This is a lesson." Katrina, apparently thinking she's going to school Donald Trump -- not to mention totally failing to get the hint, which is "shut up" -- keeps whining, "Would you ever do business with somebody that performed unethically?" Trump -- totally awesome in this scene, I must say -- says, "Well, I would like to tell you the answer is no, but it doesn't always work out, 'cause you don't know." "It was so clear," Katrina says with a condescending shake of her head. "Well, it was clear, but he duped you," Trump says simply. "Nobody has ever duped me," Katrina says, shaking her head. "You've never, ever been duped?" Trump says. "Nope!" she snots. "I have," Trump says. "And I'm not going to give him credit for it," she says, accidentally giving away what her actual problem is, which is that it's not the ethics of the situation that are bothering her; it's the defeat. She just refuses to admit where she fucked up. "I've been duped," Trump says, as Carolyn smiles at the spectacle. Trump goes on to say that everyone gets duped, and she's been duped, too. The thing we see is Tammy offering her opinion: "I think we got duped." Protégé laughs hysterically; VersaCorp looks mortified, because obviously, it was her responsibility to go along with a theory of what happened that everyone in the room knows is bullshit, even after her entire team treated her like a disease and did nothing but talk down to her for about a week running. Trump shuts down the duping discussion and says that it's over -- Protégé gets the win. So much for Katrina's terrifically compelling rule protest. "And congratulations!" Katrina sarcastically chirps. Can somebody just smack her for me? Seriously? It's her first loss in six episodes -- she couldn't be a little bit gracious?
Trump announces that the reward for Protégé will be a trip to his country house to enjoy a picnic. He promises that "it's the most beautiful house in New York state." Well, sure. If it weren't, he would have it mercilessly bulldozed and turned into condos, and then he would buy the house that was the most beautiful. As for you, VersaCorp? Prepare for the Boardroom. He dismisses everyone, but says that he wants to see Heidi for a minute. Protégé exchanges big hugs, and all except Heidi exit the room. Trump asks her how Mom's doing. He asks if she wants to go home to be with Mom. She says no. "I just don't want it being held against me," she says. Yeah. That was a big risk, that Trump would fire her because her mom has cancer. Trump asks her what Mom has to say about her schedule, and Heidi insists that Mom wants her to stay in the game. "I want to stay; it's not even an option, Mr. Trump," Heidi says forcefully as Trump is trying to talk to her. Boy, that's a polite way to treat somebody who expresses concern for you. She thanks him for talking to her, and then she interviews that talking to Donald Trump was just like talking to a friend. Which...whatever. I'm not slagging her for how she reacted when her mom was sick, but her reaction was certainly not so impressive to me that it altered my basic opinion of her. She reacted, I guess, about the way I would have expected. Even unpleasant people usually love their moms. Eh. She's basically the same as before, to me.
Up in S4, Troy and Kwame enjoy their first win ever. Heh. Heidi says that indeed, this was a nice moment, given that they were winless to this point. They barely have time to catch their breath before it's time to get out and head for the Trump National Picnic. It all seems kind of strange to me, because when I was in college, people would sometimes go and hang out on a rich guy's lawn and eat sandwiches, only we called it civil disobedience. Ah, well. Anyway, a van carries them to a very nice-looking estate, complete with the vast green lawns and the pretty trees and all of that. Trump interviews that Bedford, where his house is, is "where the richest people live." He claims that the house is 55,000 square feet. Protégé drives up in its van and climbs out. Some random guy on the house staff brings them back out to the lawn to enjoy their "lovely picnic." The picnic seems to include your basic cheese-wine-fruit spread. Oh, and hot cider, because they're having this "picnic" in New York in, like, October or whatever, so it's not necessarily traditional picnic weather, in the sense that the ants are all little frozen corpses. Amy interviews that she "[has] feelings for the other team," but now she feels that she wants to see other people -- namely, this team. "To the first of many victories," she says as Protégé toasts. For some reason, everybody else is toasting with cider, and Heidi is toasting with...a dish of berries, I think. Sometimes, you just shake your head.
Back from commercials, we look in on S4 and the preparations for the Boardroom. Ereka and Katrina are having a chat, and they are just not happy with Tammy at all. "What the hell was Tammy thinking?" Katrina says angrily. Uhhh...that you were duped? Which is the same thing everybody else was thinking? "Fuck [something something]," Ereka thoughtfully replies. Katrina babbles about how Tammy didn't say anything in the Boardroom until that moment, and she's totally something something something...seriously, this conversation is very hard to follow, because Katrina makes no sense, and Ereka makes no sense, and they're sort of turning into a bitchier version of the "Delta Delta Delta, can I help-ya help-ya help-ya" sketch at a very rapid rate. Ereka interviews that she was "furious" that Tammy said they were duped -- even though, apparently, Trump had said that himself, so it's not like Tammy told him anything he didn't already know. Ereka calls it "so typical of her, but so out of line." VersaCorp has a meeting, and Boyfriend Bill asks Katrina if she wants to reveal who she's taking to the Boardroom. As we watch her smirk smugly, contemplating her power over everyone else's fate, we see Katrina interview that "part of the reason [they] lost the task was the final negotiating." Fascinating, considering that the $1650 that Bill got them was the same $1650 they had apparently set as their target rent before they even started. Moreover, she seemed perfectly happy with the rent he got until she found out they actually lost -- in fact, before she knew she lost, she said that Protégé would never win except by "luck." She certainly seemed to think that Bill negotiated a perfectly appropriate rent, right up until she found out how high Protégé's final rent was. Finally, in order to beat Protégé's markup of 27 percent, VersaCorp would have had to rent the apartment for more than $1900. Does she think that if Boyfriend Bill had done a better job of negotiating, he was going to get $1900? When the tenant started by asking about $1600, and they had less than an hour to work with at that point? No, Katrina, that is not why you lost, dear.
But anyway, she says that it is, and that she thinks Bill mishandled the rent negotiation. Back in the suite, she says that she's just trying to be "fair." Because, after all, she's a good person. Ereka, meanwhile, also blames Bill, arguing that he "requested" that they all not be in the room. Totally his fault! If all five of them had been there, they would totally have gotten $1900, I guess. Katrina, back in the suite, says that nobody should take it personally -- which she only has to say because she herself would totally take it personally -- and Bill agrees that it's not personal. Nick, in a completely spot-on fashion, says that the person who ought to have some fingers pointed at her is Katrina. He thinks it all came down to which apartment they got, and he apparently thinks she could have done more to bring home the 3rd Street apartment. It's interesting -- I don't think she could have done much more there, but I do think she could have used all that expertise to get them some more prospects -- and maybe do a little more to spruce up the place besides replace the kitchen cabinets, which really did appear to be almost all they did. We also get to see Ereka, back in the suite, saying, "There was no 'duping' going on," and Katrina agreeing. "No. And I want to make that very clear, Tammy," Katrina says dismissively. "Well, then, why is it all an issue, then?" Tammy quite rightly asks. Ereka looks at her like she's a total idiot. "We don't think it is, you understand?" Ereka says, like Tammy is three years old. They are such idiots. Of course they think it's an issue! Katrina loses her shit every time it comes up! She freaked out about it in front of Trump! Tammy is exactly right -- if Katrina wasn't duped, what is she complaining about? God. Ereka is stupid, and Katrina is stupider, so they can both go away just any old time now. Ereka acts incredibly obnoxious in this sequence, because she realizes that Tammy is right, and she's wrong, and it makes her head want to just about blow up, so when she's out of responses, she just says, "You have to listen better to the argument and then respond to it." Hate. Her. This was the week that my distaste for Ereka and Katrina blossomed from vague distaste into full-on acrimony of the "die, dimwit, die" variety. Tammy gives the obligatory "maybe I'll get fired, maybe I won't" interview that someone -- usually the eventual bootee -- gives every week, and then we are mercifully done.
VersaCorp heads for the Boardroom. When they're there, Trump finally walks in. "So," he says to Katrina, "you took a beating." He asks Carolyn if she has anything she wants to ask. Carolyn asks why Katrina, with her claimed real estate experience, didn't show the apartment and negotiate the rent instead of Bill. What I love about it is that Carolyn doesn't quite say Katrina is the expert -- she points out that, many times, Katrina said she was the expert. Heh. "As a leader, I delegated to Bill," she says confidently. Bill argues that having everyone in the apartment was unnecessary, and he defends the job he did as the "agent." Bernie's all, okay, but why not the licensed agent rather than you? Boyfriend Bill: "I don't know." Bernie asks Katrina the same question. She says that as the leader, she was in charge of the renovation. In other words, she was responsible for only the part she's not licensed in. The last thing you want intruding on a task is someone's training, for crying out loud. She brags some more about the general contractor she procured. Asked if he could have gotten a higher rent, Boyfriend Bill says that he could have -- if there had been more prospects looking at the apartment. I think that's exactly right. Katrina starts to snot that he could still have done better, and he asks her why, if that's true, she didn't step in. Trump tells them that they did a great job with the renovations, so maybe they should be "builders, but not necessarily business people." Oooh, burn.
He turns his attention to Tammy, asking her why she "went so viciously against the team." I still say "viciously" is a pretty strong term for agreeing with something that he himself had already said, but whatever. "Katrina said, 'I was never duped in my life,' which is a lot of crap, but why did you just say, 'We were duped'?" I love that he casually just told Katrina that she was full of crap. It's just like the way he said "repulsive" last week -- it's a shot across the bow, whether he dumps your ass or not. Tammy answers that she thinks the rest of them unjustly attacked Troy's integrity, and she didn't think it was fair. She continues to defend Troy's maneuver -- misunderstanding it, as Katrina does, to have actually involved his getting Katrina to tell him which property she wanted -- as "smart," rather than particularly evil. Asked whether Tammy was honest or disloyal (wait...both!), Katrina (to no one's surprise) declares that Tammy was indeed disloyal. Nick says, "A little bit disloyal." You can tell he thinks Tammy is right, even though he also probably doesn't approve of Troy's behavior, considering how he wigged over the autograph-signings at Planet Hollywood. "I think she's disloyal -- and I'm not surprised," Ereka says. Because she is that girl who absolutely has to get that extra little dig in to prove how smart she is. Asked to choose two people to go to the final table with her, Katrina selects Boyfriend Bill and Tammy. So Nick and Ereka get to go back upstairs, while Tammy, Katrina, and Bill retire to the yellow couch. Ereka's white quilted jacket, by the way, needs to be tossed into a shredder yesterday.
After the commercial, Donald consults the Viceroys. Carolyn says, "I wasn't impressed with Katrina, but I would probably say Tammy." I think it's safe to say that, at least in part, Tammy is being rung up for the debts she owes on Carson Daly and Regis Philbin. Bernie, on the other hand, stresses that he's "bothered by Katrina." He says that he found her attack on Boyfriend Bill distasteful, considering that she's the one who didn't bring in any prospects. Trump says he knows who he's going to pick, and he has Robin send in the final three. They all sit. Trump points out that "there's been a lot of bad blood, and [he thinks] Troy caused much of it." Uh-oh. That doesn't sound too good for the Idaho potato, there. Katrina says that she wants to make some additional arguments about why she chose Tammy. Trump says that's fine. Katrina gives a long speech about how she had to devote so much of her energy to taking care of Tammy that she wasn't able to properly manage the team. Now, I get that Tammy says dumb-ass things, but the idea that Katrina was "babysitting" her? No. We saw how Katrina managed it -- she managed it by trashing Tammy behind her back, which is probably deserved, but not the same thing as being on Tammy Patrol all day long. Trump asks Tammy what she thinks of that. "I think she's trying to point fingers at another person because she hasn't fulfilled her obligations." Katrina makes an exaggeratedly comedic face at that -- ho, ho, ho! -- and makes me want to pull her hair just that tiny bit more. Tammy says that she does think there were some breakdowns in the team. And who, Trump asks, broke down more? Katrina or Bill? Tammy names Katrina. "Tammy, I am the one who secured a general contractor to do all the work!" Katrina snorts. "Me! Me! In fact, I have a business plan -- would you like to see it?" She slides it over toward Carolyn, who looks at it as if it's covered in cat poo and says, "No." Trump waves his hands dismissively. "It's too late," he says. I have to say, it's a rare thing in adulthood when yelling "Me! Me!" is a good idea. Trump is ready for the big windup, though, so he tells Katrina that he thinks she should have been in charge of the negotiation rather than dumping it off on Bill. Bill, he thinks, didn't necessarily do a great job negotiating. Tammy, though, "got in the way of [her] team." And she was (dum dum dum!) disloyal. He goes so far as to call her disloyalty "obnoxious." "Tammy," he says, "you're fired." They're all dismissed.
When they're gone, Trump harps some more on the disloyalty, which just doesn't make a lot of sense to me. Everyone in the room knew they were duped. Trump knew they were duped. It's not that disloyal to honestly assess what happened with your team and where you went wrong. Bernie says, more to the point, that he doesn't think Tammy "brought anything to the table," and that I do agree with. Except she did bring The Forks of Wackiness, The Spoons of Socially Inappropriate Behavior, and The Folded Napkins of Ineptitude. Those things all were indeed brought to the table by our Miss Tammy, and for her pure unpredictability, I will miss her. Godspeed, Tammy. Do me a favor -- if you see Carson Daly, yell out, "Where's Tiger?"
Tammy heads out to her cab. In her exit interview, she says that she still doesn't think she did anything wrong, but the team ganged up on her, and there wasn't much she could do about it, really. "It brings out certain emotions when you bring out the truth," she says. I'm telling you, you'll never see so many genuine just-plain-folks in your life as you will see when you visit the world of reality television. Everybody is just being real, man.
week: Yes, Trump makes bottled water. And you have to sell it. Amy and Nick do a little more flirting and a little bad dancing. Ereka wears that stupid, ugly quilted shirt again. Amy is angry from one angle, and then she is angry in exactly the same clip flipped around and shown from the other side. Hey, do I look like an amateur, people? Oh, and everyone still hates Assorama. And guess what? Best! Boardroom! Ever! I so hope that's true.