Previously on I'm Too Sexy For My Uniform Shirt: The teams returned to the welcoming nipples of Donny Deutsch, who oversaw an assignment in which they created a recruiting ad campaign for the NYPD. Elizabeth and Andy were both deeply skeptical of their teams' advertising ideas, but where Andy took the route of politely sticking to his own view and fulfilling his role as PM, Elizabeth decided to go with her team. Or maybe not. Or, wait, maybe so. Or not. She'll get back to you Tuesday. Ultimately, Andy's campaign, while weak in the execution, was coherent and well-conceived, while Elizabeth's was ugly and scary and cheesy and kind of incomprehensible. (Incidentally, in the previouslys, Trump refers to the campaign as "militant," which really isn't the word he's looking for, unless the campaign has sprouted legs and started marching around with a flag, demanding the release of political prisoners.) Apex got its ass kicked, and when they headed to the Boardroom, it was time to gang up on Elizabeth. And gang up they did, exposing every waffle and every weak point, to the point where Trump cut the Boardroom session off before the time even came for the final table. He just sent Elizabeth packing, changing the rules in midstream for one person without warning as has been his peculiar bent this year. Oh, and everyone who had previously seemed tolerable turned into a raging jackass. Ten are left. (Ten? There are still TEN? Good grief. Can we start peeling them off two at a time, because...seriously. I can't believe there's one for every finger I have, and it leaves nine that I can't even assign to the most appropriate finger.) Who will be fired this week?
Credits. Props to whatever tortured soul has the thankless job of trying to make Trump look sexy. You do brave, if futile, work.
Tonight, as we look down at New York, we are encouraged to admire a searchlight, its rays clawing the sky in desperation, asking people to please begin transferring the hate to the Red Sox until the Yankees win another World Series. Then, for some reason, we are tourists all of a sudden, and we're looking at the subway, and then the big Radio City sign, and then a carriage ride...all of this before returning to S5 for what should be the Aspiring Corporate Weasel Death Watch. Up in the suite, everyone is hanging out in one of the bedrooms, where Wes is saying that he "will be gravely surprised" (whatever "gravely surprised" means) if Elizabeth returns from the Boardroom alive. In fact, if she can pull off the escape, she will be "Houdini." Just another connection between Donald Trump and the occult. Andy, on the other hand, thinks that if Elizabeth keeps her cool and sticks up for herself, and if Raj doesn't back off the military theme, Raj could go instead. I can't believe Andy doesn't think foppishness is an impenetrable protective shield.
The door to the suite opens, and Jen -- more self-congratulatory by the week -- strolls in, along with...oh, look, the entire rest of her team. Obviously, this is not what Mosaic will be expecting, as there should be a partial team returning while the rest head for the final table. The final table that, you will recall, never was. Mosaic pokes its head out of the bedroom where most of it is gathered, and in spite of not being the most observant group on the planet, it does notice that the only person not back is Elizabeth. Chris, and especially Jen, recount the humiliation of Elizabeth with obvious glee that I can only hope they find fairly embarrassing in retrospect. It just isn't necessary to wallow in how awesome you find the shitty way somebody was treated, especially somebody inept but not remotely malicious like Elizabeth. Maria at least has the decency to put all of them in it together, noting that every time they go into the Boardroom this year, it seems like "something insane happens." She does not say, "Like the times I haven't been fired," the way she should.
Kevin and Jen perform the random draw of the PM, and the name that comes up is Raj. As Kevin tells Raj that he's going to be the boss, Kevin interviews that Raj is in a bit of a spot, after not having a great week last week. Showing a level of rational planning that threatens to make him appear perhaps overqualified for the show, Raj sits down with Kevin and asks, based on performance, how he (meaning Raj) could do a better job this time. Kevin tells Raj that he just needs to "make sure everybody's coordinated." Wow. That's some ass-kicking strategic combat advice there, Sun Tzu. Did you come up with that on your own? Kevin leaves out the other thing he is apparently thinking, which is, "And by all means, don't listen to my dumb-ass suggestions, because it's your own fault if you do." "I better win this one," Raj says with a grin as he leaves the room.
The morning, the phone rings in the suite, and Kelly runs out to answer it. With no shirt on, of course, because that's how all men on the show sleep. Rhona says that Trump wants them to meet him at 9:00 AM at the penthouse apartment at Trump Park Avenue. I wonder if Rhona is ever tempted to tell whomever answers the phone not to call the cops and to bring $20,000 in small, unmarked bills. (Not to enter a second level of tangent, but why do people demand unmarked bills? Do they think ransom delivery people provide marked bills on the theory that the kidnapper doesn't mind marked bills, or that this is some kind of undiscovered technicality? Anyway.) Kelly thanks Rhona and hangs up.
Over at the apartments, Trump and Carolyn are touring some construction and receiving an update. Trump is undoubtedly displeased, and only the installation of extra gold unicorn faucets will pacify him. The teams show up, don their Omarosa Manigault-Stallworth Memorial Plaintiff-Proof Hardhats in a brilliant yellow, and head out onto what looks like the penthouse patio. Pink-tie Trump heads out to meet them, and it is here that I notice that only Raj has chosen to shun his hardhat and hold it under his arm like a sissy. He's either angling for a conk on the head, or he actually thinks his hair is above mussing. Either way? Dink.
Trump welcomes them, and he says that they're going to be working in his favorite field -- real estate. He adds that they're on the 35th floor of an apartment building on which he blew a huge amount of money, and the apartments start at 1.5 million dollars, and go up to 30 million. So you'll need to have a steady job and a credit check, probably. On the plus side, free cable! The week's NotGeorge will be Matthew Calmeri, who works on this very building and, presumably, knows something about real estate. Carolyn will be there as always, shaking her head and looking totally disgusted, which is kind of becoming her version of the Moonwalk. Trump tells the teams that in this task, they'll be heading for the Long Island suburbs, where each group will take on a dilapidated house. They'll get $20,000 to renovate it, and at the end, appraisers will do a walk-through. Whichever team adds the most value to its property will be the winner. And will need to be counseled on the tax consequences. Trump hands out product-placed VISA cards with the money on them to PMs Raj and (apparently) Sandy, cautioning Raj to spend the money on the house, and not on women. HILARIOUS, that joke. Never gets old. No, no, Donald -- don't seek out new material. I just want to hear some more about how Nick and Amy will probably get maaaarried.
And then Trump announces that there will be "a twist." Is there any word that strikes fear into the hearts of reality show contestants more than "twist"? (Well, besides "Bowlathon.") He says that sometimes, you have to work with people you don't like. (Make that "Heidi Strobel 'Celebrity' Bowlathon.") So, joining the teams for this task will be the first four people Trump fired. And here come those people from behind the team. Rob and Jennifer C. will be working with Mosaic, while Stacie and Baldford will be working with Apex. Ah, yes. Stacie. Trump claims this will be "very interesting." And I agree. Trump reminds Andy of his exemption, which I really don't think he has forgotten. Oh, and we are also reminded that the losing team will go to the Boardroom, where he'll fire someone. Golly, is that this show? Oh, right. I always forget that. Trump sends them out to renovate and to "have fun." Because you know what's a lot of fun? Sanding.
The teams return to the suite, along with the bootees who have returned. Jen C. says that the energy in the room was suitable for knife-cutting. She interviews that there are people there who don't even deserve to be there anymore. "Ivana should have been fired instead of me," she spits. I could have sworn it was Sandy we decided could have saved Jen's ass by being fired instead. Oh, well. Jen adds, "Period, the end," though, so it must be true. She tells Ivana that Trump handed over Ivana's "head on a platter," and Jen didn't choose to take it. See, that's what I mean -- it's not my recollection at all that Ivana was the platter-head. Sandy was the platter-head. Revisionist history, people: it really is the new black. Jen does tell us with some satisfaction that she had wanted to bring in the weakest players to the Boardroom, who were Stacy and Elizabeth, and apparently she must have had a point, because those two are, in fact, now gone. "Ivana," Jen asks the camera rhetorically, "what have you done, besides lose money and make mistakes?" It's bitchy, but...it's a fair question, too.
Meanwhile, Stacie is telling Chris that if she's going to work on a team with Ivana, they're going to have to resolve some things. Chris claims to understand, although he immediately chalks it up to Stacie being mad about having been fired. Girls are so spiteful and keeee-razy. I mean, I'm sure she isn't happy about being fired, but I also think she has some genuine beefs about the process, and he could stand to be less of a clueless dork about it. Stacie herself interviews that she feels like she's in a position of having to reclaim her reputation after the way she was fired. You know, in rescuing your good name, it's considered a good start not to wear a vest made from Wookiee fur. Furthermore, can someone tell the captioning people that seriously, there is no such word as "restauranteur"? There really isn't. It has a red squiggly line under it right now in Word. That's not a thing, I promise. It may be counterintuitive, but it's "restaurateur," and you can find that out by using a dictionary, which is that big book on your shelf with the never-cracked binding between your copies of The Bridges Of Madison County and Who Moved My Cheese? (Although really, they're kind of getting what they deserve by referring to a Subway owner as a "restaurateur" in the first place.) Stacie says, anyway, that she feels like she wants to "set the record straight."
Ivana and Stacie run into each other in the kitchen, and Stacie says they need to talk. She says, quite calmly, that she doesn't think Ivana understands how serious of a thing it was to say that she was crazy. Ivana claims that she "honestly felt scared." She adds that she considered it "a safety issue," which makes her look, to me, even worse. Because...what horseshit, seriously. Stacie thinks so, too. "You're a liar, you misrepresented me, and that's not cool," Stacie says firmly, as Ivana tries to go for a huffy, aggravated sigh, but just comes off looking defensive. Stacie asks to know how Ivana felt that she was in any danger, and Ivana responds by changing the subject (shocking) and talking about how Stacie needed supervision. Somewhere around here, Jen C. enters and starts smiling, which I found really funny, despite how much of a bitch she can be. Because you have to have a certain grudging respect for someone who can walk into a fight between people she doesn't like and just start grinning with joy at the sheer spectacle of it. Ivana basically walks away as soon as she starts losing the argument, so...you can rest assured that Ivana knows that everything Stacie just said is true. Stacie interviews that for obvious reasons, she was trying not to just go off on anybody. Heh. Yeah, you don't want to pile an assault charge on top of the 8-Ball thing. Actually, I think 8-Ball use qualifies as a offense for the purposes of sentencing. Chris tries to get Stacie to think "task" rather than "revenge," and she seems like she will probably do that to the best of her ability, but she's not too apologetic for responding to what she seems to think was done to her first. And...good for her, really. Because women like Ivana get that way from not being called on their shit. The message is that the less you call them out on it, the more they do it, and they're not going to learn anything from being shamed, no matter how right you are, and have I mentioned that whatever my reasons for voting, THAT'S my motto for the four years?
"Control Your Contractor," says Trump's black-and-white motto. He tells us that contractors are a special sort of people, because they generally didn't go to business school, but they're usually just as bright as the people who did. "You have to know how to deal with contractors," he says, going on to point out that a contractor you don't watch will "pick your pocket." Aw. Poor contractors, all maligned by Donald Trump. I have a feeling all his projects are about to grind to a screeching halt due to a citywide outbreak of "illness." And their bosses will call him up and say, "Gee, big guy, I got no idea what's goin' on. They've all got a case of...uh, pickpocketitis. It's very, very mysterious."
We hear happy 1950s-sitcom music as we arrive in the Long Island neighborhood where all this will take place. We see a "Children Playing" sign, then a dog, then bikes, then Apex, arriving in a van to shatter the peace of this previously peaceful community. As they look around the house, they notice that the kitchen has some unused space. That's the good side. The bad side is that Kevin comments that the house was "in shambles," and specifically mentions the lack of a second-floor bathroom. He says that they knew that adding siding to the outside of the house would be a good thing, and that adding a second-floor bathroom would work also. Raj meets with the team, telling them that the first priority is to get the bathroom going. He adds that he wants to take out one of the separating walls, turning the house into a three-bedroom rather than a four-bedroom. Jen and Kevin both voice their disapproval so that, you know, they can look good later if it doesn't work out. Jen interviews that "Raj lacks common sense." Chris contributes the useful observation that the team has "no chemistry." Well, that'll get them on the right track. You know, I agree with him, and I think I even know why. None of these people appear to be friends. Remember before? I mean, put aside the critical story element last time of Troy and Kwame's friendship, which paid off huge several different times. Amy and Nick were also friends. Katrina and Ereka were friends. Nick and Bill were friends, at least to a degree. Not all of those people were likable, but you had the feeling that a social dynamic existed -- that the people, in addition to working together, knew each other. It doesn't even feel like they know each other. I have no idea who among these people are friends, if anyone. It's always tempting to idealize the first season of any show, but seriously, it's like now the energy is unrelentingly negative, they're constantly thinking about how to screw each other in the Boardroom, and they don't seem to have any relationships to each other beyond being Boardroom enemies. Something's just off. Look at me, agreeing with Chris. Who saw that coming?
Chris is also the first to burst the bubble on Jen M., specifically mentioning that for all her talk of being a team player, she isn't one -- she thrives on confrontational situations, and he thinks that kind of attitude is what's been screwing the team the entire time. Well, right, but they're all behind that. These people always are certain that if they get rid of the one bad person -- like last week with Elizabeth -- it will all fall into place, because everything is that person's fault, due to the rest of them being totally excellent in every way. You'd think they'd begin to figure out it's them. It's kind of the "the phone calls are coming from inside the house" moment, but you know they're not going to get there. "We need this win," Chris says. "We don't want to be back in that Boardroom." Raj and Jen are still arguing over taking out the wall, and he's explaining that taking out a wall, in and of itself, is not all that hard.
Mosaichaus. They do an inspection, and the annoyingly nasal Sandy -- who looks better and better by the week in comparison with the other women, considering that the only other ones left make me want to renounce my gender citizenship and move to antifeminist figurative Canada -- explains that she became PM because she was the only person left on her team who hadn't done it. Yeah, you can only weasel for so long. She claims to know everyone well, says she's seen mistakes that other PMs have made, and tells us she feels good and optimistic. That makes one of us. Outside the house, Wes meets up with some contractors, telling them that there's a list of projects the team would like them to bid on. It's not clear what day this is, but Wes reminds them that all the work has to be done by 2:00 PM on Sunday. The contractor says that he'll have to take a look and see whether what they want to do is possible. Sandy, meanwhile, wants something removed at the front entryway, and she shows them on a drawing where they want to add cabinets and such in the kitchen. She points out that the task will probably be a big one for Trump, as "real estate is very near and dear to his heart." He's saying that in case you got distracted and convinced yourself he was a sneaker mogul. And please note that the heart is theoretical and has never been sighted. Sandy says that she wants to get the win so that Trump will know she's "versatile." I think for that, you have to be good at two things, actually, but we won't quibble at this point.
Over at the Apex house, an aggressive bass guitar can only mean that Baldford is talking about primer again. And what do you know? He is! Kevin, in other news, is all excited because he has a contractor coming over who was a referral from a broker he had called. "So he's out of the box," Kevin says excitedly. Now...consider what that means. Does he mean "outside the box," like you have to be a wacky contractor to be referred by a real estate broker? Does he actually mean "out of the box"? What does that even mean? Do most contractors require assembly? ["I think it's similar in meaning to 'plug and play.' Still. Though it pains me: shut it, Kevin." -- Sars] Kevin tells us that he "took it upon [him]self" to get the contractor, and we see him tell the guys that he'll be handing out Heinekens "at 3:00 on Sunday." Do you suppose he gave a deadline of 3:00 and Mosaic gave a deadline of 2:00? Because I think giving an artificial deadline an hour early would be very, very smart, and I'm wondering if that's what Wes did. The contractor asks Kevin when he's supposed to start, and they're like, "Uh, now." The guy looks a little surprised, but takes it on. Raj expresses a concern that they're giving the guy more than he's going to be able to do, but the guy says, "Never too much!" And of course, a contractor is the best possible source for how much work you should give him, ARGH. Baldford interviews that Carlos got to be their contractor basically because Kevin was "amped" about hiring him.
In a fateful conversation with Kevin, Raj says that he's concerned about Carlos "flaking," and while eating a pizza, Raj says that contractors not being done when they're supposed to be done is not exactly an unusual happening. In an interview, Raj declares himself officially "nervous about Carlos."
And now, Mr. Apprentice, tear down this wall! Raj throws his shoulder into the wall he wants to remove and puts a big dent into it. You know, when you see a dent like that at a frat house, it always seems so unlikely, but it's really so easy to do. You don't even need the keg, although it helps. I actually know a guy who broke his hand punching a bathroom wall at the prom due to hurt feelings of some kind. Hee. But...come to think of it, I can't remember which of my friends it is. It's probably telling that I know more than one guy I can picture doing that. Ivana looks on, shocked, as Raj begins to tear at the drywall. He knocks into it a couple more times, but when Ivana takes a shot, she doesn't even leave a mark and also? You guessed it. She hurts her shoulder. Because she's a girl, get it? We're made of feathers and confetti. As the team tears out the wall, Raj interviews that human nature contains the natural desire "both to destroy and to create." But mostly destroy. He claims that they're doing both, and then says, "This makes Raj happy." Oh, ew. Talking about yourself in the third person is such a bad idea.
That night, a crescent moon hangs over the chaos and demolition. The day, at Mosaichaus, the team arrives, and Rob tells us that he's slept two hours out of the last 36, and he's done it in the front seat of the van, so you know he's feeling refreshed in that "fur on your teeth" kind of way. He adds that they have a lot to do. Interestingly, although he has no official stake, Rob says he "need[s] a win," probably because being first out is really a pretty ignominious distinction, and anybody to whom that happens would probably like a chance to put something better on his record before he leaves the public consciousness. You know, forever. Considering that he went out as not contributing anything, he also wants to show "what kind of a worker [he is]." He certainly appears to be working hard, although I hate the idea of his trying to prove anything to people like...Maria. Yuck.
As it rains good and hard on the work going on, Sandy is inside Mosaichaus, fretting over a weird-looking wall that Kelly assures her is fine, even though it has an ugly border marching right across it for no particular reason. Kelly is the arbiter of fine taste, after all, when it comes to both women's clothing and décor. Kelly, in keeping with Mosaic's "I Don't Know Whose Fault It Is, But It Certainly Isn't Mine" theory of manager sabotage, explains to us that if for any reason they don't win the task, it will be Sandy's fault alone. Why does he say stupid things like that? Trump doesn't take that attitude toward PMs, and it's just a dumb attitude. Supervisors can supervise, but the people working have to be competent too, and everyone has to be willing to be responsible for something, you know? He's just much too self-righteous for me, and much too convinced that he's going to avoid all responsibility for everything, permanently. Sandy fusses with a contractor upstairs in the bathroom, and then, as she explains in an interview, she reaches a low moment and cries a little about the rain, the delays, and everything else that's going wrong. She feels like the team is "losing track" and may be about to give up on the task.
Sandy pulls herself together, though, and the rain eventually lets up. Andy, somewhere around this time, looks around and sees that the contractor they have is seriously going to struggle with the work they're assuming he's going to do. He claims that some contractors who do kitchens were "in the neighborhood" (hmmm) and, seeing that there was a lot of work going on, popped over to see what the story was. One of the guys chats up Andy about the progress and warns him that at the rate the work is going, it's going to be very hard to get it done. Andy says that the guys he met outside seemed to be good, and were smart guys, and told him they could get the work done for a decent price. The thing you know, the accordion-style music of stereotyped Italians is playing as all of these guys descend upon the house. They work, they sand, and they even fix the wall Sandy was bummed about before. Andy says that the "point man" on the kitchen was John Junior. But before you know it, here come the cousins, and it's "a big family picnic." As Andy pals around with the contractors, I think it's safe to assume that what it really was is a big family fame-whoring, but there's really no harm in that -- hell, it's probably what I would do. My whole family could come over if the task required professionals who would...I don't know, do math or make fun of their own dog. As Jen C. points out, her favorite part was the four big bosses standing on the lawn and watching what was going on, in some cases smoking cigars. "I would say that these are good fellas," Andy says, tweaking the stereotype more than necessary, "and I wanted to work with them, not against them." If I were Andy, I'd think in terms of working against, and not with, ancient and overused comedy routines. Sandy, meanwhile, says that she was happy with their contractors, who were "working hard for [them]."
Over at the Apex Money Pit, Stacie is sanding a door. But is she shaking the sander and asking it question about the future? Because if she does, it will be the most terrifying thing I've ever seen. In other news adequate to create overwhelming fear in people like Ivana and Stacy, Baldford is wielding a paintbrush, using it for...painting! Raj, on the other hand, is upstairs gawking at the completely torn-up bathroom, which is nowhere near done, wondering how that's supposed to be finished in two hours given where it is now. He finds the contractor and asks about it. The contractor sits on a crate or something and eats a taco as Raj tries to tell him that the 3:00 is hard, not soft. Much like the taco, actually. Jen interviews that the contractor was "screwing around with Raj," not being serious, and so forth. I have to wonder why, if she thought that, she didn't step in and do something. Good grief. Half the time last year, you couldn't even remember who the PM was, because all they did was sort of vaguely coordinate, but it wasn't like they were expected to take care of every single thing that came up. It's like now, the other people on the teams feel like they're doing something counter to good game play if they step in and fix a problem they see developing. And to that, I can only say...Boyfriend Bill. The biggest problem-fixer of all time, whether he was the PM or not. Ditto Troy, who made it to the final five, and whom Trump loved. Anyway, the contractor tells Raj he'll get back to work when he's done eating. I'm sure that's very reassuring. If it were me, I'd be like, "The taco can wait until I don't have a detached toilet in my hallway," but to each his own. Carolyn peeks around the house and comments that there's quite a lot to do in what is apparently the remaining...20 minutes. Among other things, the rapid "cleanup" that ensues causes its own problems, like paint knocked over in the grass and things being tossed out of windows, which I'm sure is making a great impression on the visiting Carolyn. "It was a scene out of Animal House," Baldford laughs. Because really, what does he care? Heh. I kind of wished one of the former employees -- especially somebody everyone ganged up on -- would have sat around chewing gum and going, "Remind me why I'm supposed to give a crap if you get creamed." ["Seriously. If I were Stacie, I'd have spent the task scratching 'IVANA SUX' into a cabinet door with a sharpened paper clip." -- Sars]
Raj asks Carlos whether the bathroom upstairs is fully finished. Are you telling me he didn't have an eye on it as time expired? That is...insane. But he apparently didn't know this was happening, because when he goes upstairs to check, he seems disheartened to find that while the appliances are sitting in the bathroom ready to be installed, the bathroom remains completely torn up, and nothing is done. So it looks like a complete mess. For perhaps the first time ever, this particular team just plain didn't finish the work in the time allotted. They've hinted at the possibility that that might happen on a few tasks in the past, but I don't think it's ever actually happened before. A very unhappy Raj surveys the sad-ass landscape.
We return to the neighborhood and the Mosaichaus, where Sandy meets the appraisers in the front yard. She says she felt pretty good about the house. She brings them in, and we see that in what looks like the living room, they have (it appears) torn up some horrid carpeting and unveiled the wood floors. And they've enormously improved the bathroom, as well. They added cabinets and stuff in the kitchen, and put in a new floor. Other parts of the house got carpeting, and they added a full bath upstairs.
At the Apex Money Pit, Raj is ready to conduct the tour. He shows them the exterior very proudly, and kind of stands there. (LTG: "Heh. He doesn't want them to go inside.") They do go inside, though, and Raj tries to put the best face on their minimal effort by claiming that they did it to maintain flexibility for the homeowners. Because you never know when people might want to leave exactly the same ugly fixtures that are in the house already, and squelching people's creativity is like choking kittens. Anyway, out of respect for any future purchasers, they've renovated the house by...cleaning up, some. The kitchen does have new handles on the cabinets and a new dishwasher. As he takes the appraisers upstairs, though, Raj is forced to explain that after they covered the stairs with brand-new carpeting, the carpeting was destroyed by the tracking of mud and paint. Carolyn marvels at the fact that they didn't cover up the carpeting while they worked, which...yeah, I think even I would have gotten that, especially with all the rain. And then he takes them to the uncompleted bathroom, trying to explain that while it's not finished, there is the promise of a bathroom. It's about hope! In an interview, NotGeorge says that Raj basically had the right idea in adding the bathroom upstairs, but the effect is just a little bit ruined by the fact that the bathroom didn't actually get done.
Now, Raj has the pleasure of explaining that he turned the four-bedroom house into a three-bedroom house. He says that he wishes the visual effect could express how close the place is to being great. "Me, too," says one of the women appraisers ominously. In an interview, Raj says that because this is a real estate task and he's a real estate guy, it's "a must-win situation." Hey, Elizabeth was in one of those last week. Maybe you'll get karmically rewarded for how much help you were to her.
The Boardroom. The teams file in, including their previously fired "assistants." Trump enters. He asks how they liked the real estate business, and Sandy says it was lots of work. And math is hard! NotGeorge first reports that the Apex house was originally appraised at $385,000. After the work, it was appraised at $412,500; that's an increase of 7.14 percent. So after you take out the $20,000 they presumably spent, they managed to make an overall gain of $7500 on the whole deal. Mosaichaus, on the other hand, was originally appraised at $390,000 -- it's good that they got similar properties, I'd point out. After the work, it was appraised at $430,000, for an increase of 10.26 percent. Now, when you look at those numbers, it kind of sounds surprisingly close, considering how bad things looked for Apex. But Mosaic made a gain, taking out the seed money, of $20,000. That's a 100 percent return on the money, as opposed to the 37.5 percent return that Apex got. So it really wasn't all that close -- Mosaic made almost three times the profit on the seed money that Apex did. The team is happy, including Rob, who's extra-happy. Trump actually congratulates Rob on his great attitude, being fully invested even though he doesn't have much to gain. Mosaic's reward will be visiting Denise Rich at her glorious house, flying there by helicopter -- and Rob and Jen C. are going, too. But after that, those two will "get lost." And the most delicious part is that Stacie and Baldford get to come to the Boardroom with Apex to give "advice." Hee. Awesome.
So, Mosaic heads out on the helicopter for its reward. Sandy says she's never been on a helicopter before. So this will be a whole new adventure in nausea for her, as it is for me. They fly out over the city, and Wes comments about the great view, and calls New York "the greatest city in the world," the better to suck up to Sars, who is helpless against his charms anyway. ["You jus' jellus. CALL ME, WES!!!1!" -- Sars] Wes says that this gave "a taste of what it would be like to be Donald Trump." Except that if he were Donald Trump, he would have less real hair and more babes. The helicopter approaches the Hamptons, and they learn that the houses they're looking at are worth 19 or 20 million dollars. Wow, I'm totally not buying one, then. After landing, they are transferred into a limo, which pulls up at the home of Denise Rich, participant in scandal and songwriting. She lets them "enjoy the grounds," though apparently not her actual house. The team wanders around the pool area and such, and then they even get to go to the beach. Andy gives a nice interview about how they worked really hard on this task, which made the reward a lot more...well, rewarding. They kick sand around, and predictably, one of the women reports that she feels fat. Last one to declare a negative body image is a rotten egg!
Back at the suite, Apex prepares for the Boardroom. Raj talks to Jen, telling her that he's angry at himself for not taking care of the contractor. But he also blames Kevin's "strong advocacy" of the contractor. Jen interviews that going after Raj would be easy, because he's the PM and she's mean. (I added the last part.) But when the competition gets late, she thinks you have to consider who you want on your team as numbers dwindle, and she still thinks Raj is a good team member. So she tells Raj that she thinks "the focus should be Ivana." Jen tells him confidently that going after Ivana is a great idea. She then interviews that Ivana is "the weakest member." Jen and Ivana now have a fight in which Jen accuses Ivana of "milling around laughing, holding a cup of coffee" while Jen was working so hard. I didn't actually see Jen do a damn thing on that task, so I'm not sure what she's so self-satisfied about. Jen lectureviews that she will be right in people's faces, "holding [them] accountable" for their work, because after all, she's the boss, and she's in charge of telling everyone what to do. SHUT UP. It's remarkable that, of these women, I now find her the most obviously and insufferably full of herself. ["You can imagine my anti-joy when I found out last week that we went to the same university." -- Sars] In the bedroom, she makes a totally unnecessary, dismissive-bordering-on-offensive comment to Ivana that all she's good for is entering numbers into a spreadsheet (you want to watch that, there, Jen). "You lost dismally as project manager, you've been barely contributing, you think you're going to bring me down? I don't think so." HATE. HATE, HATE, HATE. She is not a nice person. Frankly, by now, I prefer Ivana. And I really can't stand Ivana. In an interview, Jen tells us that she will be championing Raj in the Boardroom. Only Jen would see herself as so extraordinarily important that she needs to make a plan in advance for whom she will be "championing." In fact, I think you have to be a champion for that.
The team leaves for the Boardroom. The sun sets, and they head off the elevators. They enter and wait for Trump, who enters wearing a tuxedo. He explains that he's giving an award later, so that's why he's rather overdressed. He asks Raj how the team lost. Raj says that quite simply, they were promised things by a contractor that weren't delivered. Trump asks if the contractor wasn't good, and Raj says that, ultimately, the contractor was bad. Trump asks who picked the contractor, and Raj says that he hired the guy in the end, and he accepts responsibility to that point.
Trump now asks Baldford whom he sees as the best natural developer, and he names Raj. Trump asks if that's true even in light of what Trump sees as the "big mistake" of making a four-bedroom house into a three-bedroom house. Trump says that he, for one, would rather be selling a four-bedroom than a three-bedroom. Baldford points out that while it's nice of Raj to take all the blame for the contractor, it's not necessarily right, because the person who pushed for that contractor was Kevin. Asked if that's true, Jen has to throw in that Ivana backed the contractor, too. Shut up, Jen. That's one of the first times the cracks in her strategy have been so obvious -- that was a remarkably clumsy effort to deflect attention from Kevin and onto Ivana. Trump asks Kevin if it's true that he picked the contractor, and Kevin says it's true that he backed the contractor. Asked if that's an offense worthy of firing, Kevin says, "Absolutely not." Well, of course he does. He only picked the contractor that lost them the task. It's not like he was trying to make a tampon commercial. Unhappy with Kevin's equivocating over the distinction between picking the contractor and backing the contractor, Baldford brings up that he wishes Kevin would just accept responsibility for having chosen the contractor, and Kevin, of course, insists that he did. Which...he didn't, quite.
Trump moves on to Jennifer "This Year's Amy In Several Different Ways" Massey, asking her how she thinks Stacie did. Jen says she thinks Stacie did great. Trump, likely feeling foolish now that he knows the women he assumed couldn't all be lying probably were, goes out of his way to point out what a good job Stacie did, and the fact that she took rather a lot of crap from the team when she left. Now, Ivana jumps in here and says that Jen came up to her at one point to tell her to take over the windows because Stacie wasn't doing them right. Trump jumps all over Ivana for how gratuitously nasty that was, and maybe it was, and she did it in a very clumsy way. But Jen and Ivana are at war at this point, so it seems at least conceivable that Ivana's point is more that Jen is praising Stacie now, but snipes and complains about her behind her back during the task, which would be pretty consistent with what I've seen of Jen -- she repeats what Trump wants to hear in the Boardroom, but is very shitty to people outside of it. I think Ivana wants Trump to know that when she's not in the Boardroom, Jen is the nastiest, most backbiting person on the team, which is true, and I think that's the point she's trying to make. I don't think Ivana's agenda is about Stacie; I think it's about Jen, because that's who Ivana is mad at. That would explain why, while Trump is chastising her for putting Stacie down unnecessarily, Ivana keeps emphasizing, "No, I agree, I said that she did a great job." But Trump doesn't listen, as usual, and hates her for it anyway, and unfortunately, Ivana is reaping the "rewards" of having been very rude and nasty on many occasions in the past, even if I'm right about her intentions. As it happens, when it comes to being an unpleasant person, I have a feeling Ivana is completely overmatched by Jen.
Trump asks Stacie what she thought of the contractor, and she says that at first, she agreed with Kevin that the guy looked like he would be great. But then? Not so much. Trump then asks Baldford what he'd do if he were Trump. They exchange some har-hars about whether Baldford would want to be Trump, who is older but has a hot girlfriend. Baldford says that in Trump's place, he would fire Ivana, whom he thinks is great at some things, and can work on paper, but not so much in management situations. Ivana makes a face. Now, Trump throws out Baldford and Stacie, and it's time for Raj to bring two or three people to the Boardroom with him. He chooses to bring Kevin and Ivana. The rest are sent upstairs. But Chris, unable to leave it at that, has to jump in and say he wants to make a point. Trump tries to tell him he's safe and might want to shut up, but Chris won't, and says what he wants to get across is important. And what is it? Basically, he just wants to say how bad the team is, and that if they stay in this configuration, he's confident they'll lose week, too.
Now, if you can tell me what could possibly be a good rationale for that speech, you're a more creative person than I am. Maybe if you had a solution. Or maybe if you were a PM trying to defend yourself. But this? This? This may be the stupidest Boardroom strategy I've ever seen, and I saw Baldford throw his immunity. Carolyn doesn't like it at all. "That's a little disloyal, don't you think?" Trump has something else to say. He asks Raj whether based on that little gem, he might want to bring Chris to the final table. Raj misses the hint and says no. Trump gripes that he doesn't like hearing all about how somebody's team is a mess. "Don't tell us about it; fix it," Carolyn says, irritated beyond what the comment probably calls for. Trump asks Chris why he made that comment, and Chris can only say he came to win, which makes no sense, because that? Won't make you win. It comes out sounding like he wants to make sure Trump doesn't blame him for the sucky team, and that's just not a good idea. NotGeorge makes a comment about not wanting to work for Chris if Chris were the PM, and Chris insists that he'd love to be PM. Trump tells him fine -- he'll be his team's PM week. Anyway, Chris and Jen are sent upstairs with the odd comment, "Congratulations, in a sense." Heh. Awesome. That can't feel good. The three final table participants go into the lobby to wait.
While they're gone, Trump talks turkey with Carolyn and NotGeorge. Carolyn says that she appreciates Raj's taking responsibility, and she actually saw Ivana work quite hard. Kevin, she notes, did pick the crap contractor. NotGeorge agrees on Kevin and Ivana, but he points out that Raj "just didn't execute his plan." Trump calls for the candidates, and Robin sends them in. They sit down. Trump asks Raj why he picked Ivana, and rather than leave well enough alone as she should, Ivana has to jump in all, "Yeah, why are we here," which is...really dumb. Because Trump had it covered. And then Kevin gets even worse, because when Trump points out that he picked the contractor, Kevin says, "I didn't pick the contractor, Mr. Trump, just to clarify." Raj starts to sputter that Kevin did too pick the contractor, and Trump doesn't like this from Kevin at all. He makes clear that picking is picking, and everybody agrees -- as Kevin previously agreed -- that Kevin picked the contractor. NotGeorge tells Kevin that if he (meaning NotGeorge) recommends somebody to Trump who turns out to suck, that's going to be on his head, and no amount of "well, you made the final call, big guy" is going to help. Ivana, meanwhile, insists that she was doing work, and that in fact, she was "plugging holes" (not "putting out fires"?) in Raj's plan. Raj insists that plugging holes is his job, so she was just walking around. "Sometimes, he requires adult supervision," Ivana says, repeating her line about Stacie, but this time, Raj isn't taking it. "Ivana," he says condescendingly. "My dear. You can work for me anytime, I would be happy to put you to work, and I require no supervision whatsoever." Trump tells Raj plainly that he doesn't think Ivana belonged in the Boardroom at all. "We don't think she's great, but she shouldn't have been here," Trump says. He mentions losing the bedroom again, as well as the fact that when Chris popped off like that, Raj should have had the judgment to bring him in. "Do you want me to be a politician for you and bring in who I think is the best sacrificial lamb?" Raj asks in disbelief. Trump says Raj made a lot of mistakes. "Raj, you're fired," Trump says. "Too many mistakes. Go." The three get up and leave.
Kevin and Ivana head up in the elevator. And then Raj turns around to Robin and says, "So, Robin, what is your number, now that I can talk to you?" She laughs. "Pony up, come on," he says gamely. Now...look. No, you can't be hitting on the secretaries in a real office. But Raj has no power over her or anyone else, and he knows the cameras are on...I saw this as absolutely nothing but farce, and it didn't offend me in the slightest, even though it was very bizarre. He goes on to ask her if she has a boyfriend, and then he says, "All right, I'll be back." He gets on the elevator. I don't like the guy, but I'll say this -- at least he has a little flair. He goes downstairs, gets in his cab, and leaves.
In his taxi interview, as in life, Raj talks too much and says too little.
week: Chris undoubtedly neither puts up or shuts up when he is the PM at a bridal salon. Something else happens. A "Boardroom beating," which unfortunately is probably not meant literally.