Previously on Trump-dillyicious: Rob was fired because he seemed kind of normal and therefore doomed. Bradford was fired because...let's just say that if Trump gives you a tie for Christmas, you wear it every time he sees you, and you do not return it saying that you will remain open-collared for the sake of solidarity with a platoon of useless grunts. Stacie was fired for being an odd duck quacking her way through a team of pretty ponies. Jen C. was fired because ew. No, really. EW. Pamela was fired because passing off your loss as a tie is not an impressive Boardroom strategy. John was fired because sometimes, it really is the PM's fault. Stacy was fired because the world is not completely hostile to the forces of good in the universe, no matter how it sometimes looks when you watch the Weather Channel in Minnesota in January. Elizabeth was fired because if all the native New Yorkers run to hide in their basements with bottles of water and crank-powered radios, that will frighten the tourists. Raj was fired because "detached toilet" is not considered a selling point for a house. Chris was fired because it's all right to think chicks are boring, but if you want to work in the big world of retail, you have to find their money interesting, because you can't spend your life in a metaphorical airport looking for the cootie-free shop. Maria and Wes were both fired, because nobody appreciates an escaped zoo elephant, but it isn't like anybody is throwing parties for the asshole who left the cage unlocked or the animal-control moron who can't get a dart in its ass long enough to stop the stampede, either. Andy was fired because...wait, why was Andy fired? Huh. We forget. Anyway, Ivana was fired because when a woman wears undies on the street during her interview, you don't really want to find out what she'll wave around at the office if you actually give her the job. Sandy was fired for upsetting the Trumpian worldview, Kevin was fired for not being Kelly, and that brought us here to the final two. Who, somehow, are Kelly and Jen. And not since theSurvivorfinale four days ago have so many been so motivated to pause, observe, and channel Peggy Lee, all, "Is that all there is?" Anyway. He's a snippy, blame-shifting, arrogant dick! She's a humorless, ineffectual, elitist snob! And now, we move on to the epic battle to be the likeability basement rather than the sub-basement, also known as the inevitable Triumph Of The Pill.
Trump indeed begins the semi-new part of the show by reminding the audience that only two people remain. Kelly is described as holding an MBA, but is not described as also holding a JD, which -- come to think of it -- he does. Presumably, this is because that would make the firing of Kevin look kind of dick, which -- come to think of it -- it was. Kelly says that his leadership style is to be "collaborative" at the beginning to bring everyone under his intoxicating military spell, and then to crack the whip and step on necks until everyone does what he wants. Sexy! As for Jen: in case you've forgotten that she has an Ivy League background, Trump reminds you. Somehow, he claims that she "has managed to avoid conflict," meaning he missed the last several episodes of his own show in which she called other people stupid and wound up in the middle of a couple of screaming hissy matches. In a comment more telling than she thinks it is, Jen announces that her leadership style is "all about delegating and overseeing." Also known as "They work hard, so I don't have to."
Trump reminds us that Kelly is working on the Genworth polo match, and Jen is working on the Genworth charity basketball game, and Genworth (ch-ching!), Genworth (ch-ching!), Genworth (ch-ching!). Genworth is pretty and smart and smells like cookies. I actually started out to count the number of times someone says "Genworth" in this episode, but I realized that I was going to run out of fingers and toes, even if I borrowed yours. Anyway, "helping" with the tasks, in the same way a three-year-old "helps" with the baby by stuffing spinach into its ears, will be three fired ex-apprenti on each team. Kelly has Elizabeth, Raj, and John, known as Team Under-Motivated; while Jen has Stacy, Pamela, and Chris, known as Team Over-Utilized. Kelly learned last week that Tony Bennett was coming (good!), but it was raining (bad!). Jen learned that Chris Webber was theoretically coming (good!), but Chris Webber wasn't actually coming (bad!). Tonight, we will find out how the tasks turn out, and watch for signs of weakness that can be dwelt upon for years to come, causing screaming and fist fights even among the utterly unaffected. Good times.
Credits. You know, the first sign of finale bloat is when you're running credits at minute twelve. I mean, Alias can do it, but they've usually shot a couple of guys and blown up a cargo van by then.
Riverbank State Park, where Jen is on the Space Communicator, still talking to Chris Webber's assistant. And it's not so much "talking to" as it is "haranguing." She's going on and on about Webber's "firm commitment" to the charity as Stacy looks on, Chris pouts, and Pamela, unsurprisingly, is doing work, as she is wont to do. "It basically blows the entire event," Jen tells the assistant. And of course, there are a few problems with this approach, one of which is that the assistant doesn't have the power to make Webber go if he doesn't want to, and another of which is that Webber probably wouldn't be doing this if he gave a holy cannoli about blowing the event, and still another of which is that if you're nasty, he's probably never going to do an event for the charity again, whereas if you would chill out, you might get him to commit to some kind of an alternative obligation. It's also patently obvious from what ensues that Webber's presence, given the presence of a bunch of other NBA players, is not really that big a deal, since one famous guy built like a tree is pretty much like another, and Jen either doesn't fully understand that, or she's not being upfront about it. Chris interviews that he didn't blame Jen for being "aggressive," since "there's no time for nice" in that situation. Which would make sense if she were talking to the person whose decision it was, but she isn't. It looks to me like Jen spends a lot of energy in that situation venting her spleen at someone who genuinely has no ability to provide a solution, and that's pointless. As well as being the kind of thing that gets you a reputation as a The Devil Wears Prada-style bitch and a half. This is even more evident when Jen turns flat-out nasty with the assistant on the phone, saying, "None of us are stupid enough to believe that he can't alter that meeting, okay?" Yeah. If I'm Chris Webber's assistant, you've just lost any possibility that I'm going to try to help you out, either by talking to my guy or by jumping in and, say, suggesting somebody else you might call to fill in. Once you go all petulant with your "I'm not stupid!" display of temper, I'm getting you off the phone and forgetting all about you. Except that if I ever have occasion to speak to Genworth, I'm going to tell them that Webber is sending a donation in lieu of having been able to appear, and while I'm at it, I'm going to drop a hint about just how rude the manager of their event was on the phone and tell them that they might not want that particular person representing them in the future. "She bitch-slapped Chris Webber's assistant," Pamela observes in an interview with a transparent combination of admiration for the audacity and skepticism about the wisdom of Jen's approach.
Jen explains to us that Webber has bailed out for good, and now they have to figure something else out. She tells her team that the "contingency plan" is to have another player emcee it, and when Chris asks what the emcee does, Jen says that he just has to introduce the game and talk about the charity. So...yeah, you would think that you could maybe find someone who could speak coherently for thirty seconds, given the presence of a stable of NBA players and VIPs. Hell, ask Trump if he'd like to headline. He'd probably say yes, and you'd get extra points for improving the quality of the entertainment, and also, he would look short. And anything that translates Trump's fundamental shrimpiness of heart into something a little more literal would qualify as a good thing in my book. Jen interviews that the day will be crazy, so she's looking to get as much done as possible tonight.
It is 12:30 AM at the Greenwich Polo Club, and we have moved into Operation Goodie Bag. John -- with much infantile "this is so lame" tone dripping from his voice that I'm surprised he's not being pushed around in a stroller in a diaper with a pacifier hanging out of his mouth -- explains to Raj how they have to put the various items in the bags. Quite put-upon, these two. Apparently, they have to put together four hundred of these bags, which Raj declares "undignified." I can only add that it might be a little more dignified if they didn't spread detritus all over the office until it looks like the lounge of a college dorm during exam week. ["When Raj says it's 'undignified,' I think what he secretly means is that it's a girl's job." -- Wing Chun] Kelly interviews, in segment that's somewhat oddly interspersed with more footage of Raj and John screwing around with all the swag, that he's just hoping and praying that the sun will shine on the polo match. Because rain and horses and rich people are a bad combination, unless you like your Versace suits with muddy hoofprints all over them.
Back at the office, the situation only deteriorates further when Raj and John decide to crack open a bottle of champagne. Oh, man. A late night, a difficult task, and alcohol. That is also not a great combination, especially when you throw in a couple of guys who are barely coherent to begin with. All they need now is a game of Truth or Dare, and this will be every really stupid night I spent in college. Kelly looks on with a disapproving frown, and then he explains that John had "a couple" of glasses, and sure enough, John looks a bit chemically enhanced as he and Raj move their project forward by...throwing stuff at each other. John declares in an interview that, sure, he got "loopy" and Kelly got "pissy," but he doesn't care. And that's your professionalism for you, right there. There's not a boss in the world who doesn't love a guy whose answer to any request is basically, "Well...what are you going to do to me if I don't?"
What's more, John has now grown so bitchy that he's telling Kelly they should hire people to put together the bags, because it's just too darn hard, and it takes "a long time." "The way you're doing it right now, it absolutely will," Kelly says evenly, pointing out that if, instead, they would line all the items up in an orderly way, the four people on the team could get an assembly line going and do the bags in about half an hour. That would require Kelly to take a minute off from renumbering the columns in his Excel spreadsheet (which is entitled "143 Ways I Am Pretty And Smart And Everyone Says So"), which might take a little longer. But other than that, I have to agree with Kelly that goodie-bag assembly is no time for piles labeled "miscellaneous." Kelly tells us that his edict to the team was that the goodie bags had to be done before people could go to bed. John complains loudly to Raj that he told Kelly to "have this done by a bunch of minimum laborers." Well, yeah. He could do that. Or you could work, you bland, lifeless little hamster, which is what you're there to do. In an interview, Carolyn says that Kelly wasn't doing much of a job motivating the "fired staff." She calls Kelly "robotic," and says that with the three people not even needing to be there for any particular reason, Kelly might want to be a little nicer to them. I seriously doubt that Kelly is robotic, incidentally. No set of specs would call for eyes that beady.
At 2:45 in the morning -- which is approaching the Witching Hour For Total Uselessness, in my experience -- Jen is talking to Stacy about greeting and setting up the VIPs. Chris interviews that because of the importance of what Jennifer is doing, he won't be surprised if she stays up all night. And did she? Yes, she did. She confirms that indeed, she stayed up while she sent the rest of the team off for a couple of hours of sleep. As we watch the clock tick forward to 4:00 in the morning, however, Pamela voices over that it was goofy, in her opinion, for Jen to be up all night long running off signs on the printer, of all things. She proposes that perhaps if she were going to be up anyway, Jen might have chosen to spend her time thinking through what she's going to do about the sponsors and the organization of the event. Furthermore, those are some ugly signs. There isn't even a little clip-art picture of a cartoon guy holding up a sign that says, "V.I.P.!" and offering a comically exaggerated thumbs-up.
At the Polo Club, the KELLY2004A2674 has been partially recharged via an AC adapter, and is plugging into the cigarette lighter in a big SUV so that he can take Elizabeth to Kinko's. Ah, Kinko's. The last refuge of the late-night taskmaster, and, I have always believed, a place that sounds from its name like it should sell handcuffs and inflatable First Ladies of the United States. And it totally doesn't. Elizabeth winds up in the back seat with a laptop, probably reading off Mapquest directions as Kelly tries to drive. Unfortunately, while it was supposed to be a fifteen-minute drive, Kelly says that it probably took forty-five minutes to an hour to find the place, "driving around the back woods of Connecticut." Hey, I've wound up in the back woods of Connecticut trying to get from Minneapolis to Bloomington, so I'm not judging. ["I blame Mapquest, which may have sent them through both Minneapolis and Bloomington on their way to Connecticut." -- Wing Chun] Kelly goes on to explain that he doesn't require any sleep, but that he wants the team to get some, because Raj will be "useless" if he winds up sleep-deprived, and Raj has big stuff he's in charge of in the morning. Like, undoubtedly, complaining.
Speaking of Raj, he and John are placing a large Genworth sign (it's really big, like the size of the wall of a room, only it's very ungainly and curved) when they bump it against an awning and break the frame. A big piece of the sign collapses. "Uh-oh," they say. John points out that it will look bad for the sponsor of the event if its sign looks like it's been involved in a tragic rollover accident.
Elsewhere, in the SUV, Kelly is taking a call on the Space Communicator from Raj, who is back at the club and would like to know where the hell Kelly and Elizabeth are. Kelly breaks the news that they're lost, so he's not sure how long it's going to take them to get back. Kelly says that he felt really bad, because as a result of his getting lost with Elizabeth, Raj and John were losing precious sleeping time that they should have had -- which means, I assume, that they had to stay up in order to do something after Kelly got back from Kinko's. Kelly openly admits in the interview that he should have handled it better, and should have been more on top of mapping out the route. Of course, nobody's navigational skills are sharp in the middle of the night, so he shouldn't be too hard on himself. He's lucky he didn't drive off a bridge into a river. Which would have made, you must admit, for a really suspenseful finale.
The Honking of Wacky Hijinks plays as John and Raj relax on the porch of the clubhouse in what one can only assume are the wee small hours of the morning. "How long till we get our phone call from him?" John smirks. There are night animal noises. "Hear the frogs?" Raj says. "Those are Canadian [sic] geese," John says. And then there is an unmistakable "ribbit, ribbit" in the background. John: "Now that's a frog." Raj: "Now it's a frog." John: "There's also a goose." Raj, confused: "It was a goose, and now it's a frog." John: "No. There was a goose and a frog." Raj: "And the goose and the frog were singing together, and now just the frog is singing." John: "Correct. You finally got it." Raj: "Got it." And that scene was the highlight of the entire three-hour finale, I think. Because I totally believe that the world will only achieve peace when all the geese and frogs of the world hold hands and sing together in a spirit of peace and harmony, and because I've had those semi-coherent conversations myself on occasion. Coincidentally, the last one I had was a sort of sick version of "Death Is Not An Option" about which two women apprentices I would most like to have as my friends in real life. And it went like this: "Uhhhhh." As I recall, I think the winners were ultimately Elizabeth and Ivana, which makes me feel like I must have hit my head on something, but I'm almost sure that's what I said. At any rate, Raj and John wonder where Kelly is, and then they gradually zonk out in their respective chairs on the porch, or so it appears. "I think I hear him coming, zzzzzz," says Raj.
The day. Riverbank State Park, pre-game hour. Jen and Pamela are greeting a couple of guys on the basketball court, and Jen is happily pointing out that the court is actually finished and looks much better than it did the last time they visited. She interviews that she wanted to get her team all excited about the event, and wanted to give them "big chunks of responsibility that they could take over and own." Which is also great, because then, if anything goes wrong, it's not her fault -- a strategy that has worked well so far. She explains that Pam was put in charge of game logistics. Jen, on the other hand, is busying herself with corporate sponsors, particularly Genworth, whom she is still trying to please with the placement of their table in the entryway. She says, however, that she thinks the Genworth people were happy to return and find that since their last visit, when they weren't very impressed, she had made a lot of progress. George interviews that the Genworth folks, however, are still actually feeling pretty displeased with the state of affairs at the basketball game. And as we see, Genworth Lady tells George that she still feels like Jen hasn't offered anything or any ideas, but has more expected Genworth Lady to come up with her own ideas for Jen to execute. George sums it up with his usual no-bullshit attitude: "Jen should be telling them how she anticipates it to be running smoothly, not asking them, 'How do you want it to go?'" He says that with only two hours, left, there is a lot left that hasn't been done. I think of all the people on this show, I would be most mortified to be chastised by George. I would assume that Carolyn was just being mean because she thinks it's good for me, and Trump is a bowl of oatmeal, intelligence-wise, but George could really hurt my feelings.
Back to Polo Town. Elizabeth has her little black baseball cap now, and with her Cap of Destiny, she is loaded for bear and has decided to start whipping some folks into shape. Specifically, she is upset with Raj and John for leaving the broken sign from last night on the lawn to the tent where the dinner will be held. Raj and John basically blow her off, insisting that they're going to leave the bent and broken sign where it is, and then they bail out in a golf cart and race off toward the clubhouse. Hilarious Knight Rider-style music plays as Elizabeth jumps into a golf cart of her own and speeds off after them. Damn, who knew this show would ever feature a car chase? It would have been great if Elizabeth had plowed into a flower shop or barely avoided hitting a lady with a baby in a stroller. I mean, there's nothing worse than half-assed camp, so why not? Elizabeth tells us that she wasn't going to let the boys "walk all over" her, so she just followed them to Kelly's office. She winds up standing on one side of a seated and horrified Kelly while Raj and John are on the other, and she declares that she's "not interested in being nice today." Quite the contrary, she says that today, she is "Dictator Elizabeth." Wow. Dirty. I know a lot of guys who would call a 1-800 number for that. Raj goes on to point out that she can take whatever style she wants, but that he doesn't have to listen to her, to which she (rather missing the point) declares that when she asks him to do something, he shouldn't argue with her. Kelly looks up at her, somewhat baffled.
The argument continues as Raj snaps at Elizabeth, Elizabeth snaps at Raj, and finally, Kelly steps in. He tells Raj to shut up and listen, and tells Elizabeth to "stop acting like a dictator." It's so hard when your dictatorship is subject to the veto authority of your boss. Elizabeth allows that "dictator" was the "wrong terminology." She apparently didn't mean "dictator," but the slightly less absolutist "co-lackey." Kelly asks Raj and Elizabeth both to please be a little more pleasant and take each other's thinking into consideration before they get into one of these stupid things, because frankly, he doesn't have time to break up fights all day. Kelly interviews that doing this felt partly like a mediation and partly like disciplining children. Well, exactly. I don't know if I would have been able to resist finishing it off with a smack on the back of the head. In his office, he tells the three people on Team Under-Motivated that they each have something to be in charge of, so he would like each person to concentrate on what they're supposed to be doing, and defer to each other in their respective areas. In other words, he's delegating at least a small amount of management authority to each of them in their particular area, which is a fairly good solution, since leashes and muzzles are probably out of the question. Elizabeth and Raj semi-hash out their fight, and Elizabeth turns to Kelly and says, "And we'll elevate any issues to you." Kelly hesitates. "Or talk about the...solution stuff," he says, thinking that he doesn't mean to leave the impression that he wants these jerks to come and tell him about it every time they can't get along.
In an interview, Raj says that he gives Kelly credit for doing a good job with the mediation: "He understands, to an extent...human beings." I liked that line. I think I might well like Raj if we didn't discuss politics and he left the bow tie at home and I only had to hang out with him for fifteen minutes at a time. Kelly dismisses the quarreling knot of doofuses from his office, and undoubtedly rolls his eyes and goes, "God," as soon as he closes the door. I know I would.
Basketball game. Jen is introducing Chris to a guy named John, who is from X-Box. As it turns out, there are a bunch of X-Box systems in the players' lounge, and Jen walks X-Box John over to look at the setup. She tells him that there will be food available and such, just to keep the guys sitting there playing videogames as much as possible, I guess. You want them nice and docile before they go out to play, because it would be bad if they charged into the stands and beat the shit out of a bunch of philanthropists. Chris interviews that the players will love having the games in the lounges, and indeed, as we watch the players arrive, they are introduced to the lounge and at least some of them do take an interest in X-Boxing for a while. But as they're playing, the screen abruptly goes black. Uh-oh.
A conversation between two random guys we have never seen before who have just experienced their peak in life, notoriety-wise, exposits that it's a power problem, and that "someone that knows the building" will need to figure out what they need to do. Jen meets up with X-Box John, who tells her that his company has put a lot of money into this setup, so it needs to be figured out. "I understand; what can we do to help you?" she says. No, no, Jennifer. You aren't helping him. This is your problem, not his problem. This is where you say, "I'm going to call the building engineer immediately, and I'll get back to you in five minutes." And then you do, and you do. Impatient with her watery "What can I do for you?" approach, X-Box John responds, "Get power." He goes on to tell her that what he needs is for her to take over the problem. "The best thing I can do right now is to contact the engineer," she says. "If you think there's something further I need to do..." He cuts her off. "What I need you to do is make me feel...just make the problem go away." It makes sense to me -- it's not just a matter of what he wants her to do, it's that he doesn't want to get that "Well, all I can do is X" response that she's giving. He wants her to adopt the problem as her own. She's essentially giving the customer-service response you give when you're lowering expectations at the luggage office at the airport and you want people to understand that you will try to find their bags, but you can't promise anything and it's not your personal mission. "All I can do is this," you know? What she needs to give in this situation -- as the manager of the event for which this sponsor put up so much cash -- is the opposite: the "I will take it as my personal mission to get power on, and it will happen" response. A bit later, X-Box John breaks the news to Jen that there's also no power to run a couple of neon signs that are supposed to be operating. Jen turns on her condescending, annoyed little smile (tooootally the wrong face to wear) and says, "I understand that your focus is power. I want to get that for you. So if you let me focus on that, I'll make it happen."
And if she had left it there, Jen would have still been in the realm of reasonable judgment. But she doesn't. She has to add, "But if we sit here and argue, I can't make it happen." So, you see, it's his fault that it isn't solved. As he correctly points out, however, he's not arguing. He's telling her what the problem is. It's just so transparent that Jen doesn't make it her goal to solve the problem. ["I think that's the main problem with the way this show is set up, with the project managers having to hit the boardroom when they lose: it trains the weaker, dumber people to prepare their victim story even as the task is happening and there's a chance they might not lose; we saw Ivana doing it all season. Now, of course, the strongest people don't succumb to it, because they've already learned how to be good managers at other points in their lives. But the strongest people don't end up on this show because they're already out having good careers." -- Wing Chun] Jen's goal is to constantly remind people what the limits of her responsibility is, and all the factors that are someone else's fault that are causing the problem, rather than just saying, "Fuck it, put me on the hook, I'm going to solve it." That's how leaders operate, in my experience. I think of Bill going to dig around by the dumpsters himself to look for that sign last year. It's a guess, but I think Jen would not have done that. I think she would have said, "Signage is the responsibility of [x], so [x] needs to find that sign right away," and she would have called up and yelled at whoever it was. But would she push herself to the point where she would doggedly keep after it personally until they found the sign? Would she go down to the dumpster just on the weird off-chance that it had been accidentally thrown out? Doubt it. Once she felt she had someone else who was more at fault than she was and she had a story in which she had done everything that it was her job to do, she wouldn't actually, substantively care if anybody actually found the sign.
X-Box John actually puts the matter pretty well and succinctly: "We need to take care of the things you committed to." Exactly.
Meanwhile, at the polo club, the painting of the grass has begun. Apparently, the field has dried out nicely, so at least there's that to be grateful for. But just as Kelly is beginning to relax, a woman pops in and says that they need to see him out on the field. As it turns out, the head of the polo club needs to break the news that you can't put a colored logo -- in this case, the Wisk logo -- in the path of the horses. Because horses, like reality-show contestants, ironically enough, are easily distracted by that which is colorful or shiny. Kelly, rubbing his eyes, says that he has to call up the folks at Wisk and talk to them. As he heads for the office, he tells us that he was pretty stressed over having to renegotiate with a sponsor a couple of hours before the event. He adds that their sponsorship is worth about $250,000, so he'll want to help Wisk be happy. It's so sickening, but I know that if it were me, the entire time I was walking up to the clubhouse, I would be writing "ring around the collar" jokes for the Wisk guy in my head. "Don't put a ring around the caller, but I have bad news, heh heh." "Well, it's a little more serious than ring around the collar, but we still think it'll all come out in the wash!" "Hey, guy, just giving you a 'ring' -- get it? Do ya?" Because I bet Wisk thinks those are hilarious. I bet they only get pissed off if you make an "ancient Chinese secret" joke, which is kind of like calling Melania "Ivana."
Back at Riverbank, Jen is on the phone saying she needs the building engineer ASAP. "You guys are in charge of facility," she says, again making sure she hits every opportunity to explain why something isn't her responsibility. Eventually, they get a generator in to get the games up and running again. X-Box John tells her that he's glad they're running on a generator now. "Thanks for fixing the problem," he says. "No problem," she answers. Does she say, "We're so sorry this happened and we're really grateful for your patience while we fixed it?" She does not. She just says, "No problem," and she walks away, like she's glad he finally thanked her. Yuck.
At the polo club, Kelly is on the phone with someone I suppose is a Wisk guy, to whom he fesses up that they've had a "snag" and won't be able to put the logo where they thought they could. He explains that Wisk left him the responsibility for figuring out the best place to put logos on the field: "I've got to step in, make a decision, go one way or the other, and I'm going to suffer the consequences if it's bad or, hopefully, do well if it's good." Now there's a novel theory. He tells the guy on the phone, "I will talk to the painters immediately about where the best place to put it is." That's what I mean by owning the problem, by the way, not that you probably couldn't tell. Kelly is treating this as his problem to solve, not as something where his job is to make sure that he can't later be faulted for anything he did. He goes out on the field and meets up with the club guy, and they work out where the logos can be, and then he tells us that he thinks the logos in front of the grandstand will make it a "no harm, no foul" situation.
At Riverbank, Jen goes out on the court and meets up with David Stern, the commissioner of the NBA and thus, these days, the National Ambassador For Making A Pantload Of Money And Being Periodically Arrested. In fact, as Jen explains in an interview, Stern was the guy who got the job of serving as emcee after Chris Webber bailed. Wow. That change of plans certainly "blew the entire event." Not. And then, as Jen is preparing for the beginning of the game, we look up into the sky and see the majestic blades of the Trumpicopter approaching the basketball game. And as Trump's landing, Chris interviews that, as the PM, Jennifer should have snapped to attention and greeted Trump right out of the gate. But she doesn't. Instead, all by his lonesome, Trump makes his way through the crowd, being cheered by knots of adoring fans and actually chased by a mob of angry children at some point. Wow, who is protecting Trump from the hooligans? That is my question. Because children can be very cruel regarding people who are "different." Meanwhile, Jen runs into George and asks him whether Trump has arrived. "The chopper just came down," George says. "Okay, we'll be on the lookout for him," Jen chirps. In a cautioning tone, George tells her, "I would do that," and it goes directly over Jen's head and she pays no attention. Instead, she just blandly thanks him and flits off. Meanwhile, Trump arrives at courtside and runs into Jen. They shake hands. As Jen escorts him in, he passes Stacy, whom he obviously fails to notice (snerk), so she calls out, "Hi, Mr. Trump!" Even then, he doesn't notice her. "Good to see you," she says loudly. He turns. "Well, how are you?" he asks her. "Good! How are you?" she responds, relieved that he still recognizes her, not that he says her name or likely remembers anything about her except that he fired her just for being obnoxious. Jen then introduces Trump to Bob Lanier, whom Trump already knows, and takes Trump to his seat, where he meets up with George. And then Jen wanders off and Trump chats with George.
Dwyane Wade (of the Miami Heat, I believe, at the moment) is introduced as Jen stands off to the side, voicing over that she wanted to ensure that things got off to a good start. But then, figuring that being -- as she described it -- the CEO of a game doesn't mean you actually have to be there, she leaves for the "VIP reception." This leaves Pamela to walk out on the court and hand the microphone off to David Stern. Pamela points out that this was a big moment in the unfolding of the game and it was a big part of the presentation, and that if she had been Jen, she would have done it herself -- handled things at center court in front of Trump and everyone. To me, this, and the thing with being slow to greet Trump are essentially parts of the same thing -- because Jen lacks experience running an operation on her own, she doesn't get the etiquette, and doesn't know that while it's not exactly about sucking up, there are moments when people expect to see the person in charge of something because it makes them feel like the person in charge is...well, is in charge, you know? They expect to see you, and they expect you to hand off details to other people so that you can be there for the opening of the game, so that you personally can hand off the microphone to the emcee. It makes the event look competently run when the person who's in charge of it is available and looks calm.
Anyway, some lady yells the national anthem. (Who is that lady? Should I know? Because otherwise, I'm going to think of her as Lungs Lady.) The game begins, and there is basketball, and Pamela praises how glorious it was to watch these great athletes. I agree, although I tend to eschew the NBA in favor of college, despite having gone to an undergrad school whose football team is comprised of chemists and French horn players, if you see my point. Jen, meanwhile, is at the VIP reception chatting with Stacy about various things they're going to do. Why it takes two people for some of what they're doing when it only took Pamela to run the entire freaking game is a bit beyond me, even though I understand the desire to be looking after details. Jen, meanwhile, heads over to tell Pamela to remind Trump about the VIP reception, and Pamela nods. On Jen's way back to the VIP reception, she runs into Chris and tells him in turn, again, to go over and tell Pamela to be sure to invite Trump and the rest of the VIPs to the reception. (Why didn't she just tell Trump herself if she went all the way over there? I am confused.) The problem is that, over at the game, Pamela is busy wrapping up the operation of the game itself, of which she apparently is solely in charge, and she misses the fact that Trump is getting ready to go. And indeed, Trump exits via his little golf cart. Chris finds Pamela in the crowd and tells her that she's supposed to invite Trump to the VIP reception. I think this is the first time Pamela realized that Jen hadn't even told Trump about the reception, because she says, with some shock, "Does he not know about it?" I think she thought Jen just wanted her to be encouraging about coming to the party -- I don't think she grasped that it was her responsibility to inform Trump that the party existed or to tell him where it was. But hearing this, Pamela immediately starts capitalizing on her substantial height to look for Trump in the crowd, as we see that the man himself is actually walking toward the Trumpicopter and climbing in. The rotor starts. Inside, Trump says, "We just finished the basketball game. A little strange. Jennifer -- nobody came over to say goodbye to me. In many ways, they did a great job, but in other ways, it was lacking." I think the "other ways" would be "blondes." He says that it's time to go see how Kelly's doing at the polo match.
Pamela literally runs down a hallway toward a door that opens out onto the tennis court where the helicopter is leaving. She looks at it lifting into the air. "Oh, you're fucking kidding me," she says. Whoops. She heads back inside, and dramatic music accompanies the helicopter on its way to the polo event. Aw, now Trump will never know how Pamela really feels about him. It's just like the ending of a season of a show on The WB. Happy summer hiatus!
In Greenwich, Elizabeth is greeting people as they arrive, and Raj is sending John down to the members' tent to handle them. And whom is the woman with who Elizabeth is greeting? Oh, she's with Genworth. Say it again -- Genworth! What's that spell? Genworth! Elizabeth huddles with another woman who's apparently part of the staff, and tells her that she (Elizabeth) had believed that the tables had been arranged in advance, and they hadn't, so they're having to "work around" that small problem. Elizabeth then interviews that all the important people are going to wind up in this tent later. And then, there will be mudwrestling and it will turn into a key party, and if Elizabeth does her job, nobody will go home with the same person he or she arrived with. Granted, I am reading between the lines. "I know what to do," she tells the other woman, placing a hand meaningfully on her shoulder. See? I'm totally right.
The Trumpicopter approaches. In it, Trump looks down at the new Trump National Golf Club (which he wants to make sure you hear about), and tells whoever is on the Copterphone that he wants construction sped up and wants them to work faster. Because apparently, he can tell that they're slacking...from the air. That's awesome. It would be even better from a 747. Call up and be like, "Through the break in the clouds, I can see that the dot representing my project is the same size it was when I flew over it four days ago. Move your asses, losers, or you'll be replaced with a bunch of reality-show contestants who will pour concrete for minimum wage if I promise to put them on television and call it The Bricklayer." In Kelly's office, Carolyn asks him how many guests are here already, and he says, "I have no idea." She takes this in with a nod. "What's going on over there?" she asks. "It's a little bit of a melee," he answers. He admits he needs to get over there and get out of the office. "I'd say you should run," she says. Heh.
And here is Trump, de-coptering and yapping on the phone. And what is Kelly doing? Oh, he's still on the spreadsheet, because he can think of nothing better he could be doing right now than...checking the spreadsheet. And he's still tethered to the office. And Carolyn...can't...believe it. Finally, Kelly gets himself out of the office and heads over to where Trump's limo is pulling up on the grass. Trump first runs into Carolyn (not with the limo -- after he gets out) and asks her how it's going, and she gives the event a tentative positive review so far. They compliment the good-looking crowd, because there's no reason not to suck up to people just because they can't hear you. Kelly explains to us that, as he was golf-carting over, he saw the "flurry of activity" and the pink tie (hee), and he knew that he was in the presence of greatness. Or at least Trumpness. He walks up and greets Trump, but not right on his arrival, so he and Jen are probably pretty much even at this point. As he starts to walk Trump up to his box seat, Kelly interviews that he realized that he hadn't inspected Trump's seats after the initial quick check to make sure they were okay. In fact, when they get up there, Trump decides that the seats are "dirty" and "not lined up properly." Which...I mean, okay, I guess they weren't wiped off or something, but they're folding chairs. The fact that they're not in a perfect row lined up with a T-square seems rather petty, to me. He further claims that two of the seats are broken, but...I'm not sure. "You wouldn't have it that way," he says to Carolyn. "No," she says. "No, I would not." Although I sensed a slight chuckle in her response, almost like a "No, I would not, because you, sir, are a big crybaby pain in the ass about things like this, and I, unlike Kelly, am used to it." She goes on to interview that Trump will be watching everything, and will expect any problems to be fixed quickly. We watch as Kelly brings in new chairs, and then he interviews with frustration that after all the details he got right, he didn't check Trump's chair. It's always the little things, isn't it? Especially with the obsessive germophobes.
Jen welcomes everyone to what I guess is the VIP reception, although it doesn't look very VIP to me, since there are a gazillion people there. Maybe it's an "SIP" reception. You know, for "Sorta." Among other things, they're operating a silent auction to raise money for the charity. There are a lot of game tickets up for auction, apparently, along with signed items. Like a Chris Webber jersey. Hey, at least the jersey showed up. It appears that the auction doesn't get off to a particularly impressive start until Bob Lanier jumps in and starts working the crowd good and hard, provoking them to bid on shoes and the like. What I find odd is that Jen starts bidding on things herself, apparently in her personal capacity, and...I don't know if that's a great plan. It doesn't really seem like a management solution to me; it seems like a shortcut. And then the person who eventually bids $1000 is a guy we will learn on the reunion is a Genworth guy. So...I mean, this is sort of a cooked-up thing where the people who have an interest in seeing the event go well are giving money, which is all well and good, but not really a show of skill. And if you think the editors didn't do what they could to help Jen look more competent, take note of the fact that they totally don't mention that the guy making the huge bid here is a Genworth guy and not a member of the public, so you wind up feeling like Jen just got some random guy to give $1000, when it's going to turn out later that he's an inside guy himself, so...just so you know.
At the polo match, another Genworth guy goes out to throw out the ball for the polo match. Polo follows, and somehow, they have managed to mount a polo-cam on some guy, so there are lots of horse's-eye-view shots. Kelly talks admiringly about the horses and the polo players, much in the same manner that Pamela talked about the basketball players. I'm not sure I would have spent finale time on this, although I suppose that when you have three hours to fill, you have time to sit back and enjoy the polo. After the match, Kelly comes down and meets Trump, giving a handshake before driving off in his limo.
And now, potty issues arise as Tony Bennett's...local handler or whatever comes to Kelly with news that Tony will be changing in the downstairs restrooms, which she hears are "quite unsanitary." She basically says that she'd like him either to get the bathroom up to par in the fifteen minutes, or else to find a different place for Tony to change. I would have loved it if Kelly had said Tony could change in the stable with the horses. I don't know why it occurred to me, but it did. And yes, I was amused. Asked for his thoughts, the club manager says he doesn't have staff to send off to clean the bathroom, which is extremely difficult for me to believe, but there you go. Kelly thus sends John to work on cleaning the clubhouse up, and when John arrives at Kelly's office, some dude is on the phone complaining to some other unseen dude about how Tony can't possibly change in this bathroom where "it looks like six goats threw up." So...what, there are, like, shirts and chewed-up tin cans on the floor? What does goat vomit look like, anyway? Whatever. This dude appears to be Bennett's manager, because in an interview, Raj says that the manager was "much more in a huff than he needed to be." We watch as John adjourns to the bathroom, which is fairly unpleasant (for fuck's sake, who didn't flush?), but it's not like it's overrun with a family of possums or has moss growing in the urinals or anything. Raj and John are still cleaning as the Tony Bennett limo comes up toward the clubhouse. And then suddenly, John and Raj are outside, shaking hands with Tony Bennett (not a euphemism) and welcoming him to the club. "My hand went from scrubbing garbage juice to shaking the hand of an American icon," Raj interviews. Hopefully, there was a stop in between at a bar of soap, because otherwise, you just introduced Tony Bennett to goat vomit in a highly personal fashion, and that's no way to treat an American icon. They drop Tony inside, and he seems satisfied.
Kelly gives a little speech at the post-game dinner, and then he introduces the entertainment. Mr. Tony Bennett! And he sings. And obviously, reasonable minds can differ, but to me, if you bring in Tony Bennett and he doesn't sing "The Way You Look Tonight," you are squandering Tony Bennett, because that is one of the songs on my personal Swoon Tune list, and it's just silly not to provide it. For, you know, my personal amusement. Me, me, it's all about me! But the one he sings is...you know, fine. It certainly gives you opportunities to see dorky rich people chair-dancing, and what's not to like about that? Kelly talks about how much everyone loved hearing Tony Bennett, and how it went so great with the crowd that it souped up the entire event. And in a moment I thought was absolutely lovely, we see Raj and Elizabeth dancing out on the grass, and they're both really good, and they're sort of putting aside the bitchery of earlier, and it's really quite sweet. I have a feeling those are both pretty decent people, even though I couldn't hang out with him because we would argue about Fox News. But over a drink? He would make me laugh. I would dutifully hate myself, of course. ["Oh, Alli." -- Wing Chun]
Anyway, back at the basketball game, Jen and Stacy are walking out together, doing the whole "You're awesome!" "No, you're awesome!" thing. George interviews that he was nervous about Jen's event, but that, in the end, she did a good job with her team. She shares hugs with her team, and interviews that she feels very good about how it went.
At the polo club that night, Kelly is also thanking his team, with a similar lack of warmth, because he and Jen are the two charter members of the Trump Fraternity Of Emotionally Unavailable Potential Apprentices. Carolyn says, "[The polo match] was a success," and adds that while there were some problems, that's to be expected. Or, as she said about Bill last year, "par for the course." And then as he drives away, Kelly has to start talking about the Kipling poem "If," which...is really not about organizing polo matches. I mean, I understand what he's saying, but...just, no. Pretentious use of poetry in inappropriate situations is not flattering to anyone, especially when he's pasty and puffy and hasn't slept in three days and probably has horse poo and grass paint all over him.
Loud music brings us back to New York. And I cannot remember where I have heard this hilarious music cue before. It was in the presentation of something terrifying in the past, and now I can't remember what it was, and it's making me absolutely crazy. But anyway, the music brings us into the suite, where Jen is blow-drying her hair and interviewing that this is "a huge moment" for her. In fact, she calls it "the biggest moment of [her] life." I'm sure her husband appreciates that one. You can kind of picture them watching the episode together, and see him turning to her like, "Thanks, hon." And she's like, "Heh heh." And then they make out, because they're both so pretty. Anyway, as Kelly gets ready, he simply says, "Mr. Trump's going to decide my fate." Jen goes on to talk excitedly about the great opportunities this would provide for her. So I don't think she got as much out of her chat with Bill as she could have. Oh, and she just wants the "opportunity to interact with Mr. Trump." Ew. That's, like, the one thing you should be dreading. Kelly, too, says that the whole thing is potentially "life-changing." Trump himself is heading for the Boardroom, stopping to look at himself and fix his tie. As if he doesn't have a guy for that. He probably has two. One for the pink ties; one for all the others. Kelly adds that he "[doesn't] respect Jen," and isn't "afraid of a verbal sparring match. At all." Jen tells us, for her part, that she can't "see Kelly becoming Mr. Trump's apprentice." Continuing her strategy of saying a lot of things in a conclusory fashion without explaining what the hell she's talking about, Jen says that Kelly doesn't "have what it takes to be the Apprentice." And then she adds, in case you didn't know this part, "I do!" Kelly claims to be excited to "get in there and see what Mr. Trump thinks." Other than, undoubtedly, "Jen has a better ass," which we already know Mr. Trump thinks, because that's what he always thinks. It's just so much less fun watching them when you know that they both suck. It's the opposite of last year, when they were both cool, so it was pretty much win-win. Sigh.
Jen and Kelly get off the elevator in the lobby, and Robin has them sit down and wait as their six teammates arrive and enter the Boardroom to talk to Trump. Trump starts with Pamela, asking her how Jennifer did. "I think that Jennifer worked to the best of her ability," Pamela says. "I think that she tried very hard. She worked very hard. And I think that Jennifer maybe misprioritized where she should spend her time. All the items were taken care of, but I don't think that Jennifer's style is to go above and beyond the call of duty. I don't think that we were an inspired group. I think that we are type-A personalities who are workaholics, and you know, I think that net-net, it was...congratulations on a job, uh...done." Heh. Trump asks Chris for his opinion. He praises Jen for being good at delegating "and not being hands-on." Hm. He adds, however, that were he in Jennifer's position, he would have in fact used that skill a little less and been "more hands-on."
Stacy, though, takes up for Jen, saying Jen is "sharp" and "tough": "You can't put one over on Jennifer." And then, in one of the goofiest moments of the finale for me personally, Stacy adds, "She will not take crap sitting down." But I swear to God, because of the way she says it, the first time I heard it, I heard, "She will not take a crap sitting down." I swear, that's what I heard, and you can believe my head whipped around pretty damn quick. Because I knew that Jen was kind of an immaculate princess, but I could not wait to hear where Stacy was going with that one. Anyway, Trump asks the team about the fact that Jennifer brought him to his seat, but then vanished and never spoke to him again. Pamela agrees that Jen should have been "more of an ambassador" for the event. Trump asks the team which they thought was better -- for her to drop him off and leave, or for her to hang around. Stacy casts this as whether he prioritizes "face time" or "actually working," which forces him to vote for "actually working." But of course, they're not mutually exclusive, and working on personal relationships at an event like that is actually working. What's more, Stacy says that if he wants someone who does work, "Jen's [his] man." His man? Do people not listen to themselves at all? Stacy confirms that she thinks Jennifer should win. Not that Stacy knows a hell of a lot about Kelly, but there you go.
Asked whether Kelly worked well with the sponsors, John says that "the results were very, very good," which is oddly nonspecific in some way. The team agrees, though, that Kelly's drawback was in not catering to the VIPs, presumably because he was stuck in the office on the laptop. Trump says that he heard Elizabeth was very good on the task, and the guys jump in with comments that are clearly pretty genuine, saying that, indeed, Elizabeth did do well. She beams under the praise, because Elizabeth still cares more than she really should what other people think, especially when those people are John. Asked his opinion of Kelly, Raj explains that with some people, they just have something. And you might like it, and you might not like it, but they have a spark of some kind. Kelly doesn't have that. Like, at all. And I totally agree. Raj again uses the word "robotic." Wow. "Robotic" twice from different people? That's gotta hurt. Or, you know, rust, or whatever. Trump points out that Raj has never been a fan of Kelly, and Raj hesitates and then says, "I don't like him. I don't hate him; I don't like him." But then Raj says that he thinks Kelly would indeed be a good person for Trump. And this, again...I mean, I don't like to employ stereotypes, but I like the fact that Raj is able to separate out the emotional issue of whether he likes Kelly from the business/competition issue of whether Kelly is good at what he's doing. ["I still think Raj prefers Kelly because Kelly is not a woman." -- Wing Chun] Basically, Raj says that Kelly will be good, and that he'll be solid, but Raj doubts he's going to be some brilliant, charismatic leader. Which, basically, is exactly what I think, except that I would throw in that Kelly is also kind of an arrogant bully, and I'm still pissed off at him about the way he treated Andy. That's a grudge that's going to linger. Maybe I should dance with Raj more. We could talk about the circuitry of the wicked.
Trump asks Stacy whom she would hire, and she says Jen, which would be enough to make me hire Kelly, were I in Trump's position. "Ew, get off my side!" yells Jen's tormented soul from somewhere in the universe. Chris is asked what he thinks, and in a particularly pained moment, he seriously looks like he wouldn't hire either of them for anything, ever, including dog-walking. But he eventually says that he "probably" would go with Jennifer. Pamela hesitates, too, and Trump points out that she clearly would get rid of both of them. Which is exactly true. And basically, Pamela admits that, and she commits to neither side. Raj carefully says, "I would hire Kelly; I just wouldn't spend too much time with him." Snerk. Of course, I don't think I'd spend time with any of them, so. Elizabeth says she'd hire Kelly. John would hire Kelly, too. So the count is that all three people on Kelly's team picked Kelly, one person on Jen's team picked Jen happily, one person on Jen's team picked Jen very grudgingly, and one person on Jen's team said, "Feh, ptui." Trump congratulates the six losers on ascending to the positions they did, and then he sends them out, promising that they've been "very helpful." They all walk out, passing through the lobby past a nervous-looking Kelly and Jen.
Finally, Trump directs Robin to send in Jen and Kelly. They do not shake hands. They do not smile. They do not wish each other luck. When they get inside and sit down, Trump asks Jennifer about the fact that she greeted him, slightly late, and then disappeared, and that he never saw her after that. He takes a sideways slam at the dirty chair he got from Kelly, who flinches in pain at the memory. And if Kelly loses, chairs are going to become the motif with which to torture him. Poor Kellybot. He's going to wind up more afraid of folding chairs than anyone, ever. (Well, except my parents' dog. Long story, and it's really more about folding card tables, but...what was I saying?) Jen tries to explain that she was working with Genworth and "putting out fires" (oh, not that again), but Trump says that whether she was busy or not, he wound up standing around unescorted after the event, which wasn't appropriate, so he still sees that as a flub on her part. George now takes over for a minute, in which he says to Jen that he saw her as primarily obligated to deal with Genworth and the NBA. She did not handle either of these entities face-to-face at the actual event. Jen protests that she was in contact with Genworth the day and at the VIP reception. George tells her that irrespective of what she felt like she did, she needs to understand that she left the impression with Genworth of paying inadequate attention to their needs. Unable to listen, as usual, Jen goes on the attack, as usual, claiming that she did everything right and that it's all Genworth's fault. She doesn't cite anything she wishes had gone better, she doesn't cite any mistakes she made, she doesn't cite anything she regrets about the way she handled it. Carolyn tries to tell Jen that, whether she likes it or not, Jen needs to understand that this is what Genworth perceived about the event. Jen literally says, "Okay, I hear you, but I don't see how that's possible." Right. George is probably lying. This is kind of what kills her in this Boardroom, to me -- she cannot admit even the slightest, tiniest flaw. She cannot listen to any criticism. She cannot admit that her best intentions might not have worked quite as she hoped, and that basically precludes learning anything. The time Jen does an event, it will go exactly like the last one, because she can't acknowledge that she isn't already perfect, so she sees no need to adjust anything about her approach.
Carolyn now asks Jen to address the complaint from her team that she turned over much of the major work to them and spent too much of her own time on "minor details." Jen agrees that she turned over "chunks of responsibility" to the team. But she insists that she stayed in charge, and needed to delegate in order to handle the stuff that came up. George isn't buying. He tells her that, in the end, he thought there was still some doubt over whether she can "take the responsibility for areas that cannot be delegated." He believes that by delegating the responsibilities for dealing with Genworth and dealing with the NBA, Jen made an error. Jen has no comment. Because they don't want to hear her say "I don't care what the client thought, because the client is wrong," and that's essentially what she thinks.
Now, it's time to discuss Kelly. Asked how he did, Carolyn says that she felt like the biggest issue was "lack of motivation to the staff." She says that while he came up with the right things to delegate to his three helpers, he didn't do a good job of getting them on the stick, because they weren't naturally motivated, given that they had already been fired. Trump adds that all three of his team members said that there was a fair amount of tension on the team. Kelly tells the story of Elizabeth's "dictator" move on the last day, and explains that it created a lot of tension. Told that Raj is "not a big fan" of Kelly, Kelly says he gets that. Is he surprised? "Not really." Is he a big fan of Raj? "After this task, I am," Kelly says, going on to credit Raj's hard work. Carolyn also tells Kelly that she thinks he hid behind the laptop forty minutes into the event. He tells her that he was trying to operate as a "hub" for the event, but when Carolyn says it was a mistake to do that in the clubhouse, Kelly actually tells her that he agrees, and now realizes it would have been better to take the laptop and printer and move over closer to the event. "I acknowledge that I missed that hit time by about forty minutes," he says. And then there is thoughtful beeping and whirring.
Asked whether Jen is a good leader, Kelly says that he hasn't seen Jennifer lead. Asked whether she thinks Kelly is a good leader, Jen says, "I question Kelly's integrity." And on what basis? Well, she's overheard him talking about her, and when she goes up and tells him that she's overheard his private conversations, he won't discuss them with her. You know, I really don't see what this has to do with integrity. I've heard this a few times recently on different shows, that you lack integrity if you say bad things about people behind their backs. But you really don't. You don't lack integrity for not liking someone, or for discussing with someone else the fact that you don't like them. Now, if Kelly were claiming to be Jen's best friend and then were talking about her to other people, that's a lot more sketchy. But just not liking people is not a blemish on your integrity. And if they happen to overhear a conversation in which you say you don't like them, well, that's very unfortunate. And they're not going to like you for it, because nobody likes people who say unkind things about them. But that is not, in itself, an issue having any discernible relationship to integrity, that I can see. And it's not like Jen has a right to demand that Kelly share all of his thoughts "to her face" if he chooses to keep them to themselves. This whole thing -- this idea that people are only selective about what they choose to say for reasons of "cowardice" -- strikes me as so dumb. Sometimes people choose not to tell you what they think of you because they know you won't change the behavior, or because they don't want to hurt your feelings, or because they know you'll throw an apoplectic fit, or because they don't consider you worth arguing with. It's not a character flaw not to shit-talk people to their faces, provided you're not pretending to be their friend or using them for money or free movie tickets or job opportunities or something.
Kelly basically says this, telling Jen that it's her own problem if she's going around the suite eavesdropping on other people's conversations. In other words, the fact that you overhear something doesn't make it any of your business, even if it's about you. When he explains that this was happening in the suite partly because people did come to him and talk about her, she tries to attack him about why other people would be coming to him to complain about her, which...well, because they don't like you, Jen. People talk. Especially when you don't have any friends to stick up for you. It's not that complicated. Her whole approach is so weird. It's like...you can decide you don't give a shit about what people think of you, but you have to accept that, sometimes, that means people won't like you, and you can't be this precious about it, it seems to me. "Kelly is manipulative, and he's doing it right now," Jen declares, in spite of the fact that she's the one who brought this entire thing up, so it's not clear to me how Kelly is manipulating anything.
Trump moves on to asking Jen why he should hire her. "I think you should absolutely hire me," she says. "I have the passion and the drive...I stayed up for almost two nights straight -- three days straight, excuse me -- and I had employees that I inspired even though I had previously fired them." Okay, first of all, Stacy is the only one even arguably "inspired" by Jen. Second of all, "I had previously fired them"? HAHAHA! See? You can see it. Jen believes that she manipulated who was fired at various points in the game, which is exactly what people have accused her of. She sits back and figures out how to blame a particular person for something that went on, and then she sees that as her accomplishment in effectively "firing" that person. It's a Freudian slip, sort of, but I think it speaks volumes. Jen believes that she has manipulated the outcome, and it makes her look like exactly the sneaky-ass operator that other people have continually said she was. She spends every task not figuring out how to win the task, but instead figuring out how to get someone else fired. So she sees Pamela's firing and Chris's firing -- both of which happened on teams she was on -- as accomplishments of hers. See? She's an evil genius, but evil geniuses are still evil.
Anyway, Jen says, "I have what it takes. I don't think Kelly does." Very convincing response, there.
Now, Trump asks Kelly why Trump should hire him. He says that he's stepped up on the tasks, and that he seeks, rather than shirks, leadership positions. The montage speeds up as they go back and forth praising themselves, and then finally, Trump tells them that he congratulates both of them. They're both good folks. But now they have to leave, so that he can talk to George and Carolyn about the myriad ways in which they suck.
Tune in to our recap for the tale of Who Gets The Job, as well as the Pro-Kelly Pile-On, the Confusion of the Jennifers, John Tries To Set Himself Up With Lots Of Chicks, and Robin Claiming She Doesn't Think Raj Is Cute When She Totally Does.
What, you thought three hours was going to be covered in one recap? Are you new?