Previously on Here We Are, Face to Face, A Couple of Silver Buffoons: Trump assembled eighteen badly dressed nitwits in New York City and divided them into the male nitwits and the female nitwettes. A forced trade sent Pamela to be Queen of the Boys and Baldford to be King of the Girls. The Boys and Pamela named themselves Mosaic (the name that narrowly won out over "Nail Polish and Kittens"), while the Girls and Baldford named themselves Apex (which defeated "Football and Monster Trucks"). Mosaics and apexes all over the world sighed at finding themselves dragged into all of this ugliness. Trump explained the rules, including the new twist that the PM of a winning team would be exempt from firing the following week if that team found itself in the Boardroom. The first task had the teams creating a toy for Mattel, and while Apex went "vroom vroom" with a remote-controlled car, Mosaic went "crunch, splat" with Cappy the Modular Crab. Maria wanted to choke Baldford. Andy wanted to hit Pamela with a shovel. Protective gear for everyone! Stacie acted a bit oddly, which set tongues wagging all over the sorority house. Apex won the toy task, sending the boys to the very first Boardroom. Pamela took Andy and Rob to the final table -- declining an opportunity to bring an extra person -- and after hearing practically the entire Mosaic team heap scorn on Rob, Trump figured that a wounded gazelle is as tasty as any other kind and fired him. Baldford, of course, won a precious exemption that will prevent him from being fired this week.
Credits. Everybody chair-dance!
S5, Aspiring Corporate Weasel Death Watch. Wes points out to the group that Trump praised Pamela, and "there's no way she's getting fired." John interviews as they wait that he thinks Andy will be fired, because he's just too damn young, as well as not "assertive in a group." As they all mill around waiting, Bradford is wearing...my, is that a newsboy cap? What is that? Gracious. Wes shares with the group that he agrees that it will be Andy, because given the total lack of experience, "he can't run a company." Predict-O-Wes finishes up with: "Rob'll come back. He's going to fire Andy." The door opens, and in come Pamela and Andy. Surprised candidates go to greet Andy, trying to think of something to say other than, "I can't believe you weren't deemed most unworthy!" They settle for nondescript cheering, as Andy pumps his fist for himself. Andy interviews that due to his age and inexperience, he's "a marked man." Eh. I suppose. Marked with the bruises he constantly gets from patting himself on the back, maybe. I mean, considering how nearly unanimously the men ganged up on Rob, the "marked man" thing seems like a tough sell at this point, but what do I know? I went to college in Ohio.
The rest of the Aspiring Corporate Weasels ask what happened in the Boardroom, and Andy calls it "the ultimate test of your mental way." Way? I don't know. It sounded like "way," but he's supposed to be a debater, and I almost believe he'd know better. Anyway, he tells those who have never seen the show before all about how Trump comes after you and you have to defend yourself. John then sinks into the couch, from which he delivers a lecture about how the Boardroom sucks if you're the person "called out," and it sucks if you're one of "the people that gotta call the other people out." Yeah. That sure does suck equally. Because when you all gang up on a guy, it totally hurts you more than it hurts him. Honest. Kevin reminds the team that they hate the Boardroom, and if they win, they don't have to go there anymore. That Kevin is sharp. Raj opens some red wine, which I'm sure he is used to serving at home out of special glasses form Pottery Barn or something. Chris reminds them that they have to be up in the morning, but the wine flows anyway. (Boy...yeah, been there.) Baldford interviews that Apex is in a good mood and "learned a big lesson" from the toy task, specifically "who is going to be good in certain situations." Maria, Ivana, and Andy sit down and have an interteam chat in which the first really notable thing is the way Maria flutters her eyelashes. What is that? Ivana then chats about how Baldford is "in total denial, because he thinks it's all about him." And I'm sure that he's alone in having that particular notion. "I'm still trying to figure out what he brings to the table," Ivana says. Unlike Ivana herself, of course, who proved her worth by suggesting a Drag Queen Set for boys. She gives an interview in which she says, "The [Baldford] truly is the weakest link out of us all, and the fact that he's protected...don't even get me started!" Thank you for that string of clichés. Back in the Andy chat, she complains that Baldford was being in a leadership position when there turned out to be "chaos." Just keep that little tidbit in mind, would you? Thanks. Maria says she thinks they'll have to wait and see how Baldford functions when he's not the PM and doesn't have the last word.
The teams reenter S5. Kevin interviews that "losing is not an option," because Mosaic can't afford to lose twice in a row. As her team starts to discuss options including the selection of the PM, Pamela asks if anyone has any background in food. Kevin says, "I worked at I Can't Believe It's Not Yogurt when I was fifteen years old." HA! Such a great line, because (1) it's probably true; (2) it wouldn't be nearly as funny with the name of any other establishment as it is with that one; and (3) it's actually "I Can't Believe It's Yogurt," not "I Can't Believe It's Not Yogurt." (I mean, you have to wonder what "it" would be at a place called "I Can't Believe It's Not Yogurt.") Anyway, I wouldn't be counting on the knowledge Kevin took away from that job. The team apparently chooses not to pick Kevin as PM based on this specialized skill set, because before you know it, they're drawing names out of a hat for the position and ultimately picking Kelly to be PM. Kelly interviews that he thinks leading early is an advantage, because even if you lose, you can take the opportunity to knock someone out in the Boardroom. Nothing like cold, merciless, military logic.
As Pamela points out, the transition to leader brings out Kelly's "G.I. Joe" side, and he starts getting very firm about what they're going to do now and who's going to do it and where they're going to stand and the fact that he better be able to bounce a quarter off your bed when you're done and drop and give him twenty. Or something. And nobody even seems horribly offended by the pushiness, although they do at times look puzzled. Considering who some of these guys are, though, he might just be talking too fast. Pamela claims, however, that she doesn't respond well to people who are "authoritative." Eh. You were pretty "authoritative" last week, Miss Take Off Your Tie, so you might want to watch it with that. Kelly agrees in an interview that his experience in the military did indeed teach him a lot about leading. Military snare drums appropriately back him up as he talks about how, once a decision is made, he expects everyone to "pick up their weight and execute." (Not that kind of "execute." What kind of a show do you think this is?)
Concerned about the disadvantage they'll be at if they try to sell on the street -- because of all the lessons learned last season about the women who sell themselves along with the product -- Mosaic turns its attention to distributors, thinking they'll go for a few huge sales rather than, as Kevin puts it, a "street fight" in which they feel like they're doomed by their small breasts. "Guys will buy stupid stuff if they see pretty women," he says straightforwardly. Heh. I think I like Kevin. Kelly decides to break the group into a "sales team" and a "flavor selection team." Snerk. It's not so much that he breaks up the work, it's that he has to call the second group the "flavor selection team." They should have t-shirts. I would totally wear a shirt that said, "Kiss Me, I'm Part Of The Flavor Selection Team." Kelly leaves Wes in charge of sales, with Raj, Kevin, and John, and he takes the rest with him. The non-Flavor-Selection-Team members depart S5 for Ciao Bella.
The Comedic Clarinet of Unending Searches for Consensus moan-honks in the background as the women once again find themselves paralyzed by everyone's unwillingness to do anything at any time that anyone else might disagree with. Jennifer C. thinks that they should have a discussion of what they think the "key factors" are. They agree to go around the group and have everyone say what they think they have to offer in the task. Merciful heavens, people. No wonder it takes you so damn long to do anything. Ivana wants to "break it down" for them, so she shows them a diagram. Yes, a diagram. And it indicates that sales is made up of price and quantity. The "driver" for price is the product, and the "drivers" for quantity are distribution and promotion. Welcome to your first week of business school, I assume. I think this is from a filmstrip. Jennifer M. interviews about how Ivana had this big analysis and all these complicated "equations and models," and I certainly hope that Ivana did something much, much more complicated than the formula she just presented, because otherwise, Jennifer is much too thrown off her game by something that only takes up about four lines on a legal pad. At about this point, Maria says that she thinks Ivana is "evolving" as the leader, so she thinks Ivana should be the PM. Ivana accepts, and she takes the opportunity for a shot at Baldford by promising to be "more collaborative." She must mean more collaborative than Baldford, because she can't possibly mean more collaborative than the team has been to this point, because if they get any more collaborative than they already are, they're not going to be able to go to the bathroom without agreeing in advance whether to go number one or number two. Ivana claims in an interview that Baldford "ruled as a bully," and she vowed to be different. Which is, of course, what everyone says before she figures out that bullies are the only people who can herd eight other maroons without everything falling to pieces. Ivana says it was important to "listen to everyone's input." Snore. She badly needs to abandon the false belief that everyone has equally worthy input. Some people are stupid. Identify them. Tell them not to talk anymore. It's a very good way to "streamline your process," to use language that people on this show might understand. As the women sit around and fondle everyone's ideas, Baldford voices over that Ivana's style has "too much of the velvet glove and not enough iron fist." I hate to find myself agreeing with him, but I sort of do. "Too much input paralyzes you," he adds, and I definitely agree with that. Especially when it's stupid input.
Ciao Bella. Vast amount of ice cream are dropped into vats in footage that should probably make me resent Big Food, but really just make me hungry. Mosaic arrives at the facility and meets with one of the production managers. Of course, in order to get their tour, they all have to wear white coats and little caps over their hair, because nobody wants anything unexpected in their dish of Rocky Road. They tour the tanks and such, and Pamela starts to ask questions. About the tanks, about the temperatures, and generally about how to make ice cream. Andy interviews that Pamela decided to do the "dime tour" and ask ice cream questions while they were badly needing to get out of there as soon as possible. I suspect she has a theory either that she's going to act interested and befriend this production guy and he's going to tell her something interesting, or that holistically, understanding ice cream will help her do better in the task. In other words, I don't think she's just distracted and flaky and asking ice-cream questions for the sake of doing it. I think she's just trying too hard. Remember the bit last year about understanding the customer, when they were selling the water? Anyway. Off in the corner, Andy and Chris tut-tut over what a fool Pamela is, and congratulate themselves on understanding that it's "a sales task." I don't like either of them. Kelly interviews that he thinks Pamela "likes to hear herself talk," and then we hear her ask the production guy whether he has any "high-level lessons learned" to share from the ice-cream business. See? I think that, foolish as it probably was, was what she was going for. "I don't know that there are any, really," he says. So...so much for panning for gold among the production managers. All that setup and no payoff. Too bad.
The Trump Motto of the Week is "Get Organized." For some reason, we're watching Trump and the Pink Tie of Moguldom show off an apartment he promises is in "fantastic shape." And then, apropos of nothing, he interviews that lack of organization "drives [him] crazy." "Ultimately," he says, "lack of organization is lack of leadership." He tells the Apartment-Seers that the building is ahead of schedule and under budget. So no one has to die. Because if it were otherwise, you know that someone would. We see some shots of people eating ice cream, which can mean only one thing.
That's right, it's a transition. We're back in S5, watching Wes try to hustle an as-yet-undetermined ice cream flavor over the phone. The sales team -- including Raj and his cane -- rattles around while Wes tries to work his "magic." Wes lies to the customer on the phone by promising that while they don't know the name of it, the ice cream has been tested and that "the focus groups really loved it." I have no idea why it apparently doesn't occur to anyone that this is unethical, seriously. This is more than puffery; it's trying to get people to spend money by assuring them that a product has been tested that hasn't been tested. Anyway, Wes interviews about being picked for the sales team because Kelly has confidence in him and so forth. Nevertheless, he's turned down on the phone. And then it appears that he hangs up on a perfectly nice woman, slamming his phone shut in the middle of her sentence, which is just so charming. It's the kind of thing a guy does to show off -- just to prove he's that important, he can cut off a lady he called and he bothered, just because he doesn't think she's going to buy. "I am too important to spend time talking to you -- [flip]." That's just a flat-out asshole maneuver. Never as impressive to anyone else as it is in the mind of the person who does it.
Mid-quality business funk carries us to Ciao Bella, where Apex is now arriving. They meet in a conference room, where they enter into a stage that Jennifer C. says she would call "team havoc." Just a hint -- before you use the expression, "It's what I would call [blank blank blank]," you should have something at least moderately witty or interesting to put in that box. In the conference room, Ivana gets the team started with the women's favorite activity -- undirected, purposeless brainstorming! She asks them to think about what would be interesting to serve at a restaurant, since they're apparently also thinking about big sales rather than street sales. Maria suggests Bloody Mary ice cream. Greeeat. I'll take mine with extra chunks of celery. Among the brilliant ideas you can see on the white board or hear bandied about in addition to Bloody Mary: Old Bay, Chinese Pineapple Cake, Upside-Down Pineapple Cake, Lobster, Mimosa (spelled "memosa"), Batter, Ricotta, Rice, Cotton Candy, Fried Twinkies, Coconut, Starfruit, Red Bear, Cranberry Scones, Buttermilk Biscuit, Fried Chicken, Peppers, Ding Dongs, Tiramisu, Baklava, Citron Tonic, "Licor," White Chocolate, Peach B, Candy Hearts, Cannoli ["spelled 'canolli' on the board, if I recall correctly -- idiots" -- Sars]...and most of those just plain suck. Buttermilk Biscuit ice cream? Fried chicken? I realize that "no idea is stupid" is the idea behind brainstorming, but some ideas are stupid, and we don't have all day, and yuck, your brain should not come up with fried chicken ice cream, even during a storm. Stacie points out that Ivana never provided any structure to the madness. Ivana does, however, suggest "Shortcake." She's an awesome leader. The clock on the wall is shown to indicate just how pokey they're being about all this. "Poke, poke, poke," says Time.
In its conference room, the Mosaic Flavor Selection Team calls the sales team on the Space Communicator. The FST breaks the news that it's going to be at least fourteen hours from when they settle on the flavor to when they get the ice cream, and the further news that they have no idea yet what the flavor is going to be. "Drop a chocolate bar in the vanilla ice cream and call it a day," Kevin urges. And I agree. "A candy bar, a donut, something," Kevin says. As he explains in an interview, after he used the "donut" word, people started to fixate on that. The FST goes and meets with the chef, who tells them that the best way to make donut ice cream in a short period of time would be to...well, go and buy some donuts. (That's why you use experts, people.) They realize that this will be an added cost, because their other option is to just use ingredients that the place has on hand, which apparently won't cost anything. They figure out that this will require about $150 to $200 in donuts, so it will take a chunk out of the profits. Chris makes a phone call about ordering 400 donuts, but when the person is too slow on the phone, Chris first rudely chastises him for pausing to take an order at the counter when Chris's order will be worth so much more, and then finds that when he calls -- at about 3:15 in the afternoon, it appears -- they don't have a huge stockpile of fresh donuts. Which, in the afternoon…I mean, why would they? In case someone wants 400 donuts at 3:15 in the afternoon? You could throw out a lot of stale donuts waiting for that to happen. As it turns out, Mosaic needed so many donuts that they aren't able to get them all in one place, and Pamela learns at 3:35 PM that they need the donuts by 4:00 to start production. And you know what that means -- field trip!
The Mosaic van speeds down the road in search of donuts. They leap out of the van at a Dunkin Donuts -- "like the A-Team," as Pamela observes -- and run inside. They demand every donut in the store. Money is thrown, and bags of donuts are brought out successfully. No donut shop employees are harmed. "Kids were cryin' 'cause we took all the donuts," Chris says proudly. Well, yes, that would be a moment for the scrapbook: "Here's a picture of me, and there's the child I brought to tears." At a second Dunkin Donuts, they hop out again and raid the donut supply again. "Fourteen minutes," Chris voices over as we watch them load up the van. "Fourteen minutes, we've got over three hundred donuts, everything they had. We cleaned out two stores within a 1.8-mile radius from where we were." They head back toward Ciao Bella, loaded down with bags of donuts. Everywhere, small children weep. Somewhere, Donald Trump is laughing.
Jennifer C. and Stacy continue to taunt the men from the room about how they're stealing their idea. Baldford calls in to John, barely able to contain the hilarity, "Hey, J-Dogs, when you grow a pair of boobies, you'll be able to outsell my girls!" And then he cackles. If you count the reasons to hate him that are present in that one sentence, you'll run out of fingers. Condescending, stupid, sexist, banal, involving a stupid frat-boy nickname...it just goes on and on. He's a raging sexist asshole, and the sooner he gets off my TV, the better.
Sunrise porn. It's Task Day, and Mosaic is setting up outside the Toys 'R' Us. Kelly says that their plan was to arrive at 7:15 so that they'd be ready to start selling at 8:00 AM. It turns out that they've also decided to be in "uniform" of a sort -- they're going to do an old-time ice cream parlor look. As Kevin explains, they decided they wanted bow ties for this, and when they all started wondering where they'd get them, Raj assured them he had it covered. Heh. Hey, nobody ever said oddballs aren't handy. All the guys put on their bow ties, not that many of them know how to do it themselves. As you can imagine, Raj's bow ties are not clip-ons. "Raj has, like, 12 or 13 bow ties," Kevin says in amazement. "Who is this guy, you know what I mean?" Oh, I know what you mean, Kevin. I know exactly what you mean. I may be the only one who truly does.
At 7:45 AM, the ice cream truck rolls up so that they can get set up. As they unpack the carts and unfurl the big umbrellas, Kelly comments that it was morning, and everybody was hungry. Someone raises the idea of getting something to eat, and John declares, as if he has just been appointed Grand Poobah In Charge of Acquisitions, "Nobody's spending any money on food today. You're going to sacrifice for Power Bars and bread and stuff." "I'm going to eat a bagel," Raj says evenly. "I have to eat breakfast; I'm hypoglycemic." It's really unfortunate that all the pretend hypoglycemics have ruined it for everyone, because it is a real thing, and it's possible Raj really has it. He repeats that he wants a bagel. "Well, tough shit," John says. "No, John," Raj says flatly, doing a "these aren't the droids you're looking for" thing. "That's not the way it's going to be." John interviews that he couldn't believe anyone was serious about wanting to eat. See, they don't have their own money, so the money comes out of the task, and John figures that one dollar might be the difference between staying and going. Kelly interviews that John is subject to periodic losses of perspective. "Basically, he wanted us to spend no cash," Kelly says. Kelly makes the call to allot each person five bucks for food for the day. John begins to protest, and Kelly says, "That's my decision, man." And that's what needed to be done. John pouts that he "completely disagree[s] with that," and Kelly just says, "Okay, I got it. It's noted." Wait, Kelly has actual leadership qualities. That's cheating. Kelly tells John that he personally believes that the lift from being fed will give each guy one extra sale, and it will be worth it. John looks grouchy. Raj interviews that John thought they should have a big day of selling in the sun and eat nothing. "This is a crazy, immature notion," he insists. "And it's not a winning strategy." And it's that last thing that really matters, no? Of course, Raj has to step on his own line by adding, "He, dead wrong. Me, entirely correct." Sigh. Let the line breathe, Raj. In, out. In, out.
This is probably where I would point out even I, who am not a local, know that 42nd and Broadway and 42nd and 7th are, like, steps away from each other. These carts have big umbrellas on them. If you're at 42nd and 7th, and you turn around and look, you'll have no trouble seeing a big umbrella at 42nd and Broadway. This entire thing is ridiculous. The other cart isn't "lost." It's "over there." Don't believe me? Look at a map of Times Square. It's half a block. And not half of one of the longer crosstown blocks. It's half the length of a short, teeny, you-can-walk-twenty-of-them-in-ten-minutes north-south Manhattan block. But anyway.
Maria takes off to find Stacie and her cart, but doesn't find them where she expects to. She walks down at least as far as 38th, which is asinine, which you can tell because she walks past the Sterling National Bank building, and that's at 38th and 7th. Rather than walking out of what would really even be considered Times Square, it would have made infinitely more sense to assume that Stacie had the corner wrong. It's just dumb.
A put-out Maria returns to her team, which appears to be standing around doing nothing, like...you know, selling ice cream...and informs them that she walked down 7th and didn't see Stacie and the other cart. "I walked ten blocks!" she says. Well, who told you to do that, fool? Just then, they get on the phone with Elizabeth and learn that Stacie was mistaken -- they're not on 7th, they're on Broadway. "That is not what I was told," says Maria coldly and indignantly. Oh, exhale. "You guys, are they right there?" Ivana says, apparently spotting the other cart. And if the editing isn't lying, the Stacie cart is outside the ESPNZone, which is indeed at 42nd and Broadway. And not exactly hidden from view, with the giant pink-and-white umbrella. "Are they wasting our time or what?" Maria says angrily. "This is a boondoggle," Ivana complains. Well, you're the biggest boon currently doggling, sweetheart, so get your ass scooping, would you?
Meanwhile, at Mosaic, Raj is standing on the sidewalk, bellowing for people to step up and try "the best ice cream in the wooooorld." This team seems to be having a good time, relating well to customers, and doing a very good job all around. It could not be more of a stark contrast with what's going on over at Apex. Pamela, on the other hand, is not into this. This is not her thing, and she's utterly out of her element, walking up to people like, "Um, ice cream? Want any? Ice cream?" Raj does a pretty funny -- and pretty accurate -- impression of Pamela, deadpanning, "Would you care for an ice cream. Please buy an ice cream. It's for a good cause." Kelly speculates that Pamela may have believed that the hard sell was a little bit "beneath her," and I don't know that it's that; I just think she's not good at it. Although considering the kinds of people they like to get for this show, I suppose the odds are that she does think it's beneath her.
Wes, meanwhile, sidelines a woman and tells her she can work as their scooper, and you can see the little cartoon bubble over her head going, "Hee hee, okay, you have nice hair." Kevin interviews that there was some recruiting of attractive women to help with the sales, just to try to cover all the bases. ("From noon to 2:00 PM, we will sell to the male 18-49 heterosexual demographic! From 2:00 to 3:00, we'll cover women who like men who dress as women! Who wants to wear the tube top?") John appears to go a couple of rounds of "celebrity ice cream scoopers," who are really just girls he pulled off the street. (Hey, that's how a lot of regular celebrities are found, too.) "The lovely Anna!" Raj yells. "The world's coldest gelato," Andy offers, "served by the world's hottest person." Ugh. Pamela claims in an interview that some of the comments were more offensive than this, and were of the "check out her body" variety, but we don't see any quite like that. She also says that the guys claimed that if you bought an ice cream, "you could make out with her." Indeed, Chris yells that any man who purchases an ice cream gets a free kiss. Chris, did you even ask the lovely Anna if she likes boys? Did it ever occur to you that she might not want to kiss anyone for buying an ice cream? It's not clear whether it really follows from that, but the lovely Anna gets herself up and gone in a bit. As Pamela notes with some amusement, Andy gets himself the lovely Anna's phone number. "As if he's going to call her from the suite and invite her up to meet eighteen of his closest friends." Yeah, really. "Hey, baby, want to come up and see my...roommates and my basketball hoop?" She probably just wants a job with Trump. I think the lovely Anna is already more useful than half of the women on Apex.
Speaking of Apex, Maria pushes the Red Velvet as hard as she can. And who else seems to be selling? Oh, look. Stacie. I'm sure they'll give her lots of credit later, don't you think? Baldford is also out selling, and his particular brand of blowhardy, gonzo nonsense seems to appeal to some of the people he encounters. I, personally, run the other way from precisely this kind of overly aggressive, accosting kind of seller, but whatever. He claims he was bringing "entertainment." Interestingly, the guy whom Baldford starts loudly referring to as "The Rock" -- who, I would add, looks nothing like The Rock -- appears unamused, like all he wanted to do was buy an ice cream and not be hassled about his huge, bulky neck. Ivana, however, interviews that she now realizes all that Baldford can "bring to the table." Bleh. "[Baldford] is a hustler," Ivana declares admiringly. Eh. I guess I'm the kind of person who can take or leave that brand of hustling.
Meanwhile, Jennifer C. calls a restaurateur and asks him to come to "see [the] street team" about the ice cream. She crows about getting the restaurant person to come to them rather than the other way around, and Ivana talks about how this will let them "optimize selling time." When the restaurant owners come to them, everyone just goes on and on about how brilliant this is, and this is why Stacie thought of hiring temps. Get it? You can't leave, because you all have to stay and sell, so you manage to drag one guy down to see them, and you wind up selling him $655 worth of ice cream, or so you're claiming. If you had, by putting temps on the busywork for the $300 cited above, been able to free up some people for one more visit that would have been equally successful -- if, for instance, you freed people up to go on four visits, and just one had worked out -- you would have won the task. Convinced yet? At least that you shouldn't have looked at her like she was crazy for thinking of it? At least that it was worth considering? Because it was.
Anyway, Baldford starts a blowout sale late in the day to get rid of the end of the ice cream, and one particular guy takes a couple of tubs of it off their hands for $50. I hope he has a big freezer. And doesn't mind if his tongue turns red.
Mosaic counts its money, and it turns out that only after they count it are they deciding how much to give to charity. I don't like that. They should have allocated money at the beginning, either in a fixed amount ($500 or whatever), but deciding after the fact how much you'll give once you know how much you've got is not cool. Because as Kelly points out, whatever they give to the charity will put them that much more at risk of losing. It sounds like they cleared the arrangement with the Society, though, because Kevin makes it sound like he talked to them and didn't promise anything about what the amount would be. The team ultimately decides to give the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society five percent of the proceeds, which it looks like are somewhere around $2870. The five percent originally comes to $143.49, and Wes proposes they make it an even $150. Kelly looks tortured over this decision, but presumably, he goes along.
Evening skyline porn. When the teams return to S5, Kevin talks about how tired he is, but he says they "put [their] best foot forward," and he thinks they'll win. Baldford putters on the little putting thing, as we hear his interview to the effect that he thinks everyone did great, everyone contributed, and in fact, he's sure his team will win. It really is true that all Baldford needed today to be the perfect, iconic Tool of the Corporate Ladder was to be seen practicing his putting. So now he's all fully realized and shit.
The teams enter the Boardroom. Trump walks in and has a seat. George asks how Apex did, and George says they made $2472.29. And how did Mosaic do? Their profit was $2707.85. So I do believe that's without their $200 or so in donuts and their $150 to the charity. So Mosaic is the big winner, by a little less than $250, even after the skim to the charity. The men (and Pamela) congratulate each other, while the women (and Baldford) look unhappy. Trump talks to Apex and asks who their team leader is. He's told it's Ivana. Getting the joke out of the way now, which is probably both smart and necessary, Trump says that he cringes every time he hears that name, har har har. Trump asks her what she thinks went wrong -- product? Lack of organization? "We were told consistently that our product was better," Jennifer M. say smoothly. If you think about it, that actually makes you look worse, in a sense -- if your ice cream tasted better and you still didn't sell as much of it...see where I'm going with that? Trump asks Mosaic if they think they did better because their product was better, or because they sold better. The first thing you hear is a bunch of guys muttering, "Hustle," but then they recover to the point where they say that it was a combination of both. Heh. Pamela reminds Trump that they also had a "brilliant marketing message" with the charity tie-in. Trump reminds Kelly of his exemption week in the event Mosaic loses, and then says that the reward this time will be a trip to Petrossian for caviar. So, you know, if you like caviar? Go, you. If you don't? Enjoy your champagne. He then says that "somebody other than [Baldford] -- 'cause you have a little exemption -- but somebody will be fired." He sends them out. As they're leaving, Kelly stops and addresses Trump, asking whether it's possible to donate all the money they made to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Trump, who blows his nose with two thousand dollars every time he cries about tax law changes, says that's fine, and he's willing to do that.
The day, Jennifer M. talks about how, going into the Boardroom, they all know that Apex "need[s] a strong team." And she thinks they need to "trim the fat." Well, they'll be looking a while if that's the case, considering that nobody on the entire team looks like she's eaten since last Christmas. Maria tells Jennifer C. that she thinks "it's going to get really ugly." And that's just the skirts. Rimshot! Jennifer wants to make decisions "prior to going in there." Meaning? Conspire, conspire, conspire!
Asked who she thinks should go, Sandy proposes Ivana, and Jennifer agrees. Their comments suggest that the silliness with the carts being separated and confused went on for three hours. Lord. Don't they all have phones? What the hell? Maria looks noncommittal about the booting, and in an interview, she agrees that Ivana "did not step up to the plate." Where on earth would these people be without sports metaphors, I ask you? And then we see Ivana approach Maria in the suite and tell her that they need to talk. Maria continues in the interview, saying that she had expected strong leadership from Ivana, and that was why she nominated her. Oh, high expectations of your fellow Trumpettes. Rookie mistake. On the balcony of S5, Ivana asks Maria what people are saying, and Maria says, "I can tell you this much: seeds of discontent regarding unorganization are being planted at every turn." How can none of these women know the word "disorganized"? How is that possible? I'm not saying they have to be English majors -- don't they watch Clean Sweep? Damn. Anyway, Ivana says that she wants to have a team meeting -- well, with select members -- to decide whom to pick on, so that it won't be her. She doesn't say "pick on," but that's what she wants. She then interviews that the "females on the team" are reacting in this dramatic way -- "worried, nervous, explosive." She does not add, "And sort of grossed out by the way I led the team." Ivana claims that she called the meeting in the suite to discuss the events of the day and make sure they were "all on the same page." Yeah. If all the sheep don't "baa" in unison, it can create real problems.
In the meeting, Ivana again blames Stacie for giving the wrong location for the second cart, which I cannot believe nobody is calling her on, as far as the half-a-block argument. Based apparently solely on this incident, the women agree that they all think it was all Stacie's fault, and she should be fired. "So, can we have consensus on that?" Ivana asks, and if she doesn't stop the consensus-building, I'm going to pop her in the jaw, I swear. At one point, Stacie walks in, and they all stop talking, because none of them has the social skills of a rhesus monkey. Idiots. Stacie sits down and asked what's up and what she missed. People just start getting up and walking out, and they don't even have the decency to speak to her, for the most part. Someone makes some bullshit comment about how they have to get ready for Boardroom in an hour and a half, but it's not like this is fooling her. Stacie interviews that if they've all gotten up a little plot to get her out, all she's going to do is fight as hard as possible.
But the biggest problem, Trump explains, is that Baldford made an impulsive decision at a critical moment. "Frankly, if you were running a company and you made that kind of a decision, you'd destroy that company. Instantaneously. Bradford, you're fired." Whoa. What? Hoo-boy. Baldford had started to figure out that this might happen, so he's not entirely shocked, but Ivana still thought she was getting rid of Stacie or that it was going to be her, so she starts to rock in her chair, saying, "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God." That's confidence-inspiring, that reaction. They all leave. Ivana takes way too long, by the way, and spends too long sitting there all stunned when she should be getting up and out. In the lobby, Baldford notes that he doesn't even have a bag. Because he doesn't have to pack shit! Mmm, justice. Smells like chicken.
In the Boardroom, Trump says that he felt he had "no choice but to do that." He still think Baldford was overall the best candidate, but you can't make a decision like that. "I'm very happy with that decision," Trump says. "I am as well," Caro-LYN adds.
Bagless Baldford walks out and gets into his cab. He drives away, and Stacie, Jennifer C., and Ivana return to S5. Well, that will be interesting.
In his cab, Baldford claims that he gave up his exemption because it was "the right thing to do," and adds, "A general goes into battle with his army." Can I ask who died and made him a general and the women the army? See, that's where you see that sexist bullshit again. He needs to go away. Oh, look. There he goes. What a relief.
week: Shock and awe. A celebrity. Maybe it's Carson Daly. Or a celebrity and Carson Daly. Something with $49,345 in it. And rule-breaking!