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So Kendra and Tana are hard at work on their final tasks, and Kendra is trying to save the PlayStation sponsorship. Unsurprisingly, she does. Meanwhile, Tana treats her admittedly crap team like crap, and she pays the price, big-time. Carolyn somehow doesn't think showing utter contempt for your employees is the most professional thing she's ever seen. Go figure. Basically, the theme of this episode is an overconfident Tana getting her ass kicked, concluding when Tana's horrible team leaves disgusted, dissatisfied, and angry, while Kendra's also horrible team at least leaves feeling like they all did the best they could for her. It's surprisingly nice, actually, considering that it involves people like Michael. Will Tana round up an American flag? Will she learn that occasionally, she will be expected to work like everyone else? Tune in, because we are almost at the end of this endless season. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
Previously on Also, Trump Should Go Into The Shoeshine Business, Which Is Yooge: Craig failed to fit into anyone's vision of the Trump organization, including his own, so he was given his walking papers tout suite and tooted off to the...well, you know. Kendra and Tana were left as the final two, and they got their first matching doses of bad news when they learned that Tana's employees would be Chris, Kristen, and Brian, while Kendra's employees would be Michael, Erin, and Danny. It's like the Bad News Bears, only Walter Matthau is a mean Mary Kay lady who hates the whole team. ["Hee. Now I simply must know who the Jackie Earle Haley character is in this metaphor." -- Sars] Kendra struggled with an early conflict with some of the sponsors, while Tana was irritated that her team couldn't find parking. Things were not going smoothly. How will it all end? Well, not end, because it's a little-known fact that this show is actually scheduled to end in January 2016, but...you know, how will it progress?
The moon sneaks behind a building, afraid to be seen casting light into this particular brand of darkness, and then we are at Webster Hall with Team Kendra. Kendra is in the middle of telling Michael to put together the crappy room that she and the PlayStation lady were grimly reviewing last week and make it look a little bit less like Tony Bennett is about to change clothes in front of a vomiting goat. Michael's looking particularly like the worst and most ripped-from-the-headlines version of himself at the moment, as he takes some more instructions from Kendra. She interviews that she understands why PlayStation Lady was so unhappy with the room. "Oh, my God," she says in her Kendra-iest voice, the one they need to have worked on if she gets this job and it doesn't turn out to be as president of a new Trump/Hello Kitty partnership. "Where I'm standing right now?" Kendra says. "It smells like feet." She says the space was nasty and not set up when the lady saw it. She tells Michael not to be grumpy, and as he moves a giant display, he assures her he's "not worried." Kendra tells us that she stressed to Michael that she was counting on his help in putting the room together for PlayStation. It seems like a good idea, basically, until she gives Michael one too many warm pieces of encouragement, and he finally comes back with, "I'll do it. Just don't whine. It's done." Well, one can overdo the "go, team, go!" thing, I suppose. She finally thanks him and leaves. Michael pushes a console across the floor, like, "I left my giant parking lot for this?"
Over at Team Tana, Tana is sitting down giving orders, telling Kristen to be in charge of the brochures for the event. Tana says that Kristen was assigned to put in a bio for each of her (meaning Tana's) Olympians. We watch Kristen describe how she wants to lay out the brochure, and Tana explains that it sounded great to her. "This is a real big important...and we can't screw this one up," Tana says to Kristen, about the brochure that everyone in the building is going to be receiving. Yep, "real big important." Just remember that. I also love how Tana has carefully set up a desk she can sit behind, even though it's totally not that kind of place, just because she likes to be cool and thinks this will help. (Not!)
In the arena, Brian and Chris, playing the part of Chipsters down to their white ball caps, are supervising the raising of a banner. Some guy tries to tell them that something about the pipe they're hanging it from isn't right, and Brian, invested as always in the pursuit of excellence, says, "You know what? It's close enough for government work." Oh, one of my favorite expressions. That's why the Washington Monument has a book propping it up on one side. And they talk about some other banners, with Brian deciding they won't be too exact about those either, so those guys are sort of...living down to their potential. Way to go, nimrods! Go out with a bang.
Kristen comes striding toward them as her Witch Music plays. Chris refers to Kristen as "a spaz," and is sure she's going to have something to say to them, even though they're trying to walk away from her. She does indeed have something to say, and she tries to correct them about the placement of some flag or other. Chris, who has apparently forgotten that he is on TV and will be judged for this in life if not by Trump, makes fun of her for caring how the banners look, basically. He doesn't know yet, obviously, that he will one day be arrested for being a dink and will need all the help he can get to rehabilitate his reputation. Anyway, Kristen tells them that there are places the banners are supposed to go, and then Brian bitches in an interview about how Kristen originally had responsibility for the programs, and then started getting on them about the signs. "It's just mass confusion," Brian insists. Tana comes out and finds Kristen fussing with some of the signs, and Chris complaining about it. Chris tells Tana to tell Kristen to go away. Tana, totally avoiding any responsibility or doing anything supervisory, just passes along the message, saying that Kristen told her that the guys are doing it wrong. Brian says that that's fine, then -- they'll just leave and Kristen can do the flags. Tana now repeats this to Kristen, still offering no solution, just trying to report what Brian says, because apparently in Tana's version of diplomacy, you're really just a simultaneous translator. At any rate, Kristen is already gone. Tana says in an interview that she's frustrated with her team, and she just hopes nothing goes wrong tomorrow during their great big day. "I can't count on these people!" she exclaims miserably.
The morning, Tana gets her team out of bed. Tana interviews that she was "excited," and she wanted the entire team to go over to the venue together. She combs her hair while telling the team that they have to go take care of a bunch of stuff, so they should all keep moving. As Tana complains loudly to her team that she's given them 45 minutes to get ready, Kendra gets set in the bathroom, looking rather unfazed. Tana now loudly announces that if the team doesn't do what she says, it will "set [her] off," and she'll just "be really irritated the rest of the day." "TANA!" Kristen yells in a raw, morning voice. "You have to understand how other people work well, too!" Trying hard to get her team off to a positive start to the day, Tana gripes to her other employees, "This is the biggest sign of disrespect anybody could show." Chris cautions her that everyone is already tired, and tells her not to "get pissed off." But in an interview, Tana is already putting down her team, bitching about how "selfish" they all are because they're not moving fast enough. "It infuriates me," she says.
It's not that she doesn't have a point, but when people don't have any reason to want to help you, bullying doesn't work. You have to know at all times what your resources are and aren't, and Tana is acting like a bullying boss with actual power over these people, and that's not what she is. She's essentially someone who needs a favor. ["Well, and it's first thing in the damn morning. Given that most people would not describe themselves as 'morning people,' maybe this isn't a battle you want to pick." -- Sars] Not that she's keeping this in mind when she stands at the door of the L-Pal and orders, "Kristen and Brian, please come now." Team Tana leaves, destined for a happy, happy day in which many daisies will be picked, undoubtedly.
Later, we move to Team Kendra's limo, where Kendra is in the back seat on the Space Communicator. She explains in an interview that because EA was providing Fight Night 2 as their game, there's going to be a boxing ring, and...some boxers...it's this whole thing. You have just heard approximately my entire store of boxing knowledge, as well as Kendra's. We watch as the boxing ring is assembled inside the hall. Kendra, nervous about the responsibilities she'll have later, tries not to sound stupid while asking how one gets into the ring. She learns that you can crawl through the ropes or go over the top. She interviews that it's a "mad rush," and she's just trying to juggle all the demands as well as she can. She oversees the hanging of banners, which is apparently one of the iconic sub-tasks of this main task. Twenty-first century corporate yutz-hood is all about banners.
Kendra then explains that she's going to check on the space Michael worked on for Amy from PlayStation, because it's so important that Amy winds up happy. And for some reason, old unreasonable Amy thought that the part where it smelled like feet wasn't charming. Clearly, she has not been in many of the apartments where PlayStation is actually played, or she would know that these people would have felt right at home. But...okay. Amy comes down to visit the space, and indeed, it is now lovely -- or as lovely as a basement by the bathrooms can be once you spray it with Lysol and hit the Purple Doodad outlet store. It's been totally worked over since Amy first saw it, and it looks pretty good, all things considered. Just then, Kendra comes down with George, and when they run into Amy, Amy is much happier indeed. Kendra tells her how they're going to regularly tell people to head downstairs to play the PlayStation games, and she's also got signs up directing people to the PlayStation room. Amy interviews that Kendra "did a great job," the sponsorship is secure, and she's got a lot of confidence in Kendra. One of the things I really like is that Amy asks at one point about having found the banners, and Kendra reaches over and grabs her hand and says, "Yes," in this way that really makes the two of them allies. It's hard to explain -- I think that because she has credibility from getting the room in shape, she can let just a smidge of frazzle out and grab onto Amy's hand and accept a little sympathy over the size of the task, so now they're sort of friends, you know? Amy feels for her, but Amy still gets what she wants. I think it's a very telling moment, and a display of some pretty good people skills. A hell of a lot better than Tana's blank, blinding, toothy grins, that's for sure. George explains to us that the executives seem very happy with Kendra. "I think that's wonderful, the way it was handled," he says. Which is pretty high praise, coming from George, who has some tendency to hedge.
Over at Chelsea Piers, Team Tana arrives. Tana chats with the NYC2012 rep and makes small talk about how Trump is going to be there at 11:00. Tana explains to the reps that her role is to take care of Governor Pataki, Bruce Jenner, and the athletes, and she's leaving the rest to her team. She tells us that this point has been her focus for the 16 weeks of the "job interview," and now she has reached her big moment. Kristen and Tana are sitting in Tana's Fisher-Price My First Office, and as Kristen gets up to leave, she says that the water coolers are taken care of. Tana snarls, basically for effect, "I don't need to know any of that." Not only that, but as Kristen is going, Tana makes faces and gestures behind her back, like, how professional! "The problem here was," Tana interviews, "I had to depend on these three idiots." Huh. I count four idiots. Maybe I need to look again.
Just then, a guy in the arena stops Chris and asks who's in charge of the pool area. Chris, with the same combination of regret and glee with which he will report all problems throughout this task, tells the guy that the answer is that nobody is in charge, because Tana hasn't given that responsibility to anyone. Chris tracks down Tana and asks who's going to be "orchestrating the actual flow of everything." Tana just says she's in charge of the governor, Bruce Jenner, and the athletes. Literally, Tana's answer is, "I'm wrangling the famous people." Chris tells her that she needs to assign somebody to do some logistics, because there's a lot of detail going overlooked. He interviews that Tana hasn't delegated nearly enough responsibility on specific things. Interestingly, Chris vows that he really does want the event to be good and he wants Tana to win. And I think at this early stage, it might have even been true.
Governor Pataki's guy, Vinnie, shows up and is introduced to Tana. Your basic political handler, he tells her in no uncertain terms that he wants a line-by-line schedule of the governor's responsibilities. Tana tells Vinnie that there's no program yet, and apparently the program is the only thing she intends to give him -- there's no special set of instructions for the governor. Stupid! She could get that from the computer in 30 seconds. She's just not getting that this isn't a favor they're asking for -- it's an expectation Vinnie is setting. But Tana doesn't read the power in the situation well at all. In fact, I would venture to say I've seen more perceptiveness out of mounted deer heads. Vinnie doesn't look very happy, but he does walk off, finally.
A bit later, Tana runs into another person from NYC2012 who tells her that the governor's office says they need the schedule. Tana barely pauses to look at her and just snots, "I haven't received it yet from printing. I told him I'd get it to him as soon as it was here, and it's not here yet." Tana does not get it, that's for sure. She stomps off with a bunch of balloons, because she is seriously, entirely dumb. Tana then collides with NYC2012 Amy (as opposed to PlayStation Amy, currently so happy with Kendra), who tells Tana that there's a stack of banners sitting unhung. "I talked to Chris -- you should be the one talking to Chris." We now see an entire montage of Tana being confronted with logistical questions that she apparently doesn't have answers for. She complains in an interview that it's all been "a catastrophe," because -- get this -- the people who are stopping her don't want to tell her she has "beautiful blue eyes," or borrow a lipstick. You won't believe this, but she actually gets huffy about the fact that nobody is paying her any compliments. The thought that this might mean she isn't earning any compliments apparently does not strike her, let alone fill her with terror, as it should.
Vinnie has caught up with Tana again, and she tells him that she's running behind, but she'll "get on the horn," presumably to get the schedule worked out, although possibly to call in a different pitcher. Seriously. "Get on the horn"? At any rate, Vinnie is increasingly pissed. "Well," Vinnie says with irritation, "he's just sitting around." Tana doesn't get it at all, once again, and chirps, "I'm sorry, does he want a donut or a cup of coffee?" Vinnie can't believe what a knucklehead she is. "No, he's interested in getting into the event," he says impatiently. Just then, Tana runs into Amy again, and Amy immediately tells her there is a serious problem. Amy hands her the program, and Tana sees that in putting together the athlete bios, Kristen just dumped in a bunch of information about the athletes that's not supposed to be public. It doesn't look like it's scandalous information, just sort of blunt assessments of who's who, personality-wise. So Tana has to go out to the front table and immediately pull back all the programs. As Amy explains, it's about five minutes to the event, and apparently, nobody ever bothered to proofread the program. Nice! She says that things appear at this point to be "completely out of control." And also? The program smells like feet. Okay, not.
Tana runs into Vinnie once again, and once again, he says, "The governor's outside, and he's just waiting." "That's fine," Tana says, in this "Calm down, Vinnie, it's all covered" way, and then Vinnie walks away from her, saying ominously, "No, it's not." Tana jumps now, startled by his sharp tone, and says, "What do I need to do, then? I'm sorry!" Dude, he's told you like a billion times what you need to do. The fact that you haven't done it is no one's fault but yours. She looks unhappy. She deserves it.
And now, arriving at Chelsea Piers, we see Donald Trump himself in his giant limo. He's in the middle of blowing off some unimportant person, one of 114 insignificant and non-yooge morons he will be yelling at today, and then he steps out and heads inside. Meanwhile, inside, Tana is herding a bunch of kids who are apparently part of the big show. Trump then makes his way to Pataki, and let me tell you, that is a meeting of some disastrous hair right there. That is two men who have been taught to do their hair by people who don't like them very much. They shake hands. Pataki says he certainly hopes they get the Olympics to New York. (Actual People From New York Who Do Not Own Hotels Or Souvenir Shops: "NO!") Tana comes over to Trump and the governor and fawns over Trump and how great it is to see him before she addresses the governor, to whom she finally does bother introducing herself. We watch as some of the athletes come over to greet Trump, and then Bruce Jenner is there, and he looks so creepy these days, I can't stand it. Talk about House of Wax. Tana explains that Jenner is her emcee for the event. He belongs to her. He is hers. Bruce Jenner is all hers, just for today! Pataki introduces Trump to Justin Gatlin, because it's always fun for people with real abilities to meet people who pretend they have real abilities. Also there are Michael Phelps, Nadia Comaneci, and so forth. I still think Nadia and Bart Conner is the weirdest marriage ever. Because...isn't he a Smurf? Anyway. Tana is feeling the oats of ownership again, saying, "All my athletes, behind the blue curtain please!" Oy. She takes Pataki off to the side, since he's been given no indication of what's going on, which busy people just love, and then she tells him that she doesn't think she needs to prep him -- a statement she makes just as he asks her what he's going to be doing. Ouch.
Tana takes Pataki over to where a group of kids are standing with the world flags, getting ready for a processional. Pataki wants to go with the kid holding the American flag, but it turns out the one he thinks is the American flag is Puerto Rico. Heh. Tana learns from someone else that Pataki is looking for the American flag, and guess what? There isn't one. Just then, someone else calls out to Tana to find out how things are going, and Tana explains that she's looking for an American flag. "Do you know where one is, by chance?" she asks. Oh, sheesh. They point out one that's hanging, but Tana ignores that one. "If it can't come, show's got to go on!" she chirps. Because who cares what the governor wants, right? I swear, just take the damn flag down, Tana. It wouldn't be that tough. Anyway, Carolyn observes all this with great disbelief. My impression is that Tana is not making a great impression on Carolyn.
Pataki and the students who are carrying all the flags are introduced, and Tana claps and shouts orders as the kids grimly file past her. She is not a barrel of laughs, this lady. She's like the meanest librarian ever, if librarians were the way people are afraid they are, rather than the way they actually are. Everyone marches in, and Pataki and Trump wind up standing together. Hair explodes everywhere. Just kidding. But really, Pataki leans over at one point and shows Trump how there's an American flag hanging, but there wasn't one for the procession. "I think it's a great point," Trump says, because it's at least as good as anything he would have thought of. Trump interviews that the fact that there was no American flag in the line was "a big mistake." Pataki and Trump take the stage and do a little blah blah blah about the Olympics. And now...the pretend Olympics!
A sports exhibition ensues. Flippy-flipping! Swimmy-swimming! Making with the volleyball! Wheeee! Tana shows off her goose bumps. Elsewhere, Chris is actually working, telling some of the athletes that they have time to warm up. They ask how much time they have, and he asks how much they need. They tell him they need 15 minutes, and Chris says that's perfect -- they'll start the track stuff at 1:05 PM. Chris asks the venue guy to make an announcement about it, and to ask people to stay off the track during warm-up. In other words, Chris coordinates quite correctly, looking stunningly competent. The announcement is made. Tana walks over and asks why there's a break when she thought there wasn't going to be a break for a little bit. The guy starts to explain that he got information from...and Tana cuts him off and says, "Don't tell me it was Chris." "Yes," the guy says. Tana says in a disgusted, don't-you-hate-idiots voice, "Ohhhh, yes. No, that wasn't supposed to be." Behind Tana, Carolyn literally drops her chin forward in dismay and makes an amused, amazed face at how unprofessional Tana looks, talking about her own employee like he's a moron, and doing it in front of an event sponsor. Tana goes on to insist that this isn't where the break is supposed to be. "Do the athletes need that long?" she asks impatiently. "I want to cater to their needs." As if Tana has ever catered to anyone else's needs without thinking of her own pink Cadillac first and foremost. Venue guy breaks it to her: "That came from the athletes." Forced to eat her words, Tana relents and says that, er, the break is fine. Carolyn interviews that Tana isn't communicating with the group, and adds that she's quite sure that if she brought up any problems with the event, Tana would "without a doubt" blame her team. "Which," Carolyn adds, "is clearly not professional." And that's really what Tana doesn't get here -- real executives don't relish the opportunity to put everybody else down. Well, good ones don't. This thing Tana wants, this ability to hobnob with important people and tell everyone else to shut up and bring her a cocktail...this isn't how good bosses work. But she just doesn't know, and it shows.
There is track. I hate running. So pointless. Well, at least Trump claps politely. He would.
Chris then approaches Tana and tells her that he needs her to round up the athletes for something he needs to explain to them. She keeps nodding and smiling and saying she knows, and then when Chris is gone, she turns to the guy behind her and says with disgust, "He's tryin' to tell the boss how to do the job." The guy is unamused, but she doesn't notice. "Jiminy," she says, "I'm gonna punch somebody." Elsewhere, NYC2012 Amy and her compadre are discussing the fact that things look so unorganized that the athletes are wandering around not knowing what to do, and some people may have left, thinking it was over. Tana is busy glad-handing Bruce Jenner, telling him how she's going to be the Apprentice, because it went so swimmingly. "It just could not have gone any better," Tana insists in an interview. "I got this job," she says with a clownish grin. Her powers of noticing everyone hating her are shockingly weak, I notice. Medals are handed out, and the audience is thanked. I think no one in the room thinks it "couldn't have gone any better" except Tana.
And now, we move to Webster Hall for Kendra's event. People are standing around playing the boxing videogame. In my favorite clip of the episode, Carolyn and George are standing watching the proceedings when he idly turns to her and says, "Want to fight?" Carolyn doesn't move for a second. Then all at once, she giggles, spins toward him, and puts up her dukes, right there in her cream-colored suit. This, in turn, makes George laugh. Bring on The Carolyn And George Show! I would totally watch that. Eat popcorn! Bring a date!
Kendra gives Erin a little guidance on setting up the ropes to guide the people upstairs. Kendra heads over to introduce herself to Fabolous, the rap artist who's working on the event as the emcee. She graciously thanks him, and then we watch Carolyn have a chat with PlayStation Amy. Amy says that everything looks good. Kendra then passes along to one of the event guys what is probably her best idea -- when Trump arrives, she wants a spotlight to follow him in. Oh, yes. He will like that, I believe. Unless there's a possibility of riding in on the back of an alligator, I think that's about as good as she'll do by Trump. Kendra says that this entire thing is like "running the longest marathon of [her] life." I KNOW HOW SHE FEELS. Trump, outside, arrives in his limo, As he heads in, everyone cheers, pretending to care, as people always do with Trump. Kendra and Trump are in the ring, and then Trump is introducing Fabolous, whom Trump calls "Fab-oo-lus." Trump explains that his daughter is a big Fab-oo-lus fan, and turns over the mike. Fab-oo-lus welcomes everyone to the championships, no doubt feeling kind of like a tool, but what are you going to do? Trump rings the bell, and much videogaming ensues. Kendra talks about all the plasma screens and the big screen, and how the winner will win a big prize from Best Buy. She thinks the event is going great. Downstairs, Trump is trying out the game. I'm sure anyone he'd like will let him win for a small payment. I would certainly throw a game to Donald Trump if he gave me even one of his buildings. Well, one that isn't losing money.
Fab-oo-lus announces the final round. We are treated to many adoring shots of Fight Night 2, and then it is over. Kendra thanks the sponsors from the ring, and thanks everyone for coming. She stresses in an interview that the point of the task was to make the sponsors happy, and she thinks she did that. "We pulled it off," she says. Trump quite heartily, and clearly quite genuinely, congratulates Kendra on doing a great job.
Team Tana is getting ready to leave. She wears her fakey-face as she tells the team that she's so grateful for everything they did. They look at her with hate. "Hopefully it came through," she says, "and if it didn't, it wasn't my destiny." As they leave, Tana interviews that there was no need for them all to leave together. No, she prefers to stay behind, and gives some weirdo speech about how it's best to let employees leave so they feel like employees or something. And...what? Seriously, what? I mean, she's talking about how she's going to stay back "like an executive," and I'm just entirely confused. "The reality is, I did this on my own," she says. "There was no love." Oh, and Tana is taking home a bowl of pretzels, which she refers to as "bitches." Just take my word for it and don't ask questions. Pretzels are "bitches." It's this thing. She gets to the exit, carefully waits until Brian and Chris get into the SUV, and then heads out and gets into her big-girl car, which apparently makes her feel awesome. In the car, she repeats that the event "could not have gone any better." Unless there were programs, I guess. And unless the governor didn't hate her. But totally, other than that. She also says that she thinks it's "a done deal," getting the job. She makes some twee reference to leaving Iowa with her family, and man alive, I am sick of her. She went downhill faster than anybody, like, ever.
Back at Webster Hall, the EA guy comes to Kendra. "I'm very serious about this," he says. "I don't know if you want to work in the videogame industry, but if you ever did, we'd love to hire you." Kendra laughs with delight. "We really appreciate all the work you did for us." He congratulates her, and she goes out to the sidewalk to say goodbye to her team. She and Erin hug. "You know, you should be so happy," Erin tells her. They have a group hug. "You were great," Danny tells her. "I am so proud of everybody," she says, and you can now see that she's actually crying. "We just wanted you to win, baby," Danny says, and I kind of believe him. Kendra is still boo-hooing in her interview, which is kind of cute, as she explains that it meant a lot to her to have her team say they were proud of her. "It's flattering in a way that I just can't really express." I...I don't know. I can't recap sincerity; I've been watching reality shows for so long that I'm out of practice.
There is more hugging, and then they all tuck Kendra into the car, with even goofball Michael making the very sweet gesture of kissing his hand and plastering it to her forehead. Danny closes the door, and Kendra immediately puts her hand over her heart in that "oh, that was so sweet, I may die" gesture that you kind of can't fake. The team blows kisses as she leaves. You know, it's true that Kendra got much more tolerable human beings on her team than Tana did. But it's also true that Kendra didn't go into the task calling them "The Three Stooges," and she certainly could have. In the limo, she reflects, saying that she's had differences with all the people who were on her team, but she's forgotten all about them. She also gives them credit for the fact that they really didn't have anything to gain by being awesome to her and working hard. "I almost forgot what it was like to work with people who believed in me," she says simply. She does not add, "Craig," although she wants to.
Love Palace. Kendra comes home and finds Tana already there. They hug, and Tana, able to see that Kendra is kind of wrung out, is all giggly, going, "Should we cry together?" "I've already been crying," Kendra says. Tana, delighted, says, "About what?" And you can tell she's anticipating some story of horror and misery. "They were so...great," Kendra says, and the look on Tana's face is absolutely priceless. She's shocked and horrified and absolutely fucking infuriated at this news. She is. It only flashes on her face for a second, but you can see it, and it is a beautiful thing. Tana tells Kendra how lucky she is, because Tana's team sucked. "They were great at it," Kendra says, awed. "Oh, that's good," Tana Mary-Kays through clenched teeth. "I didn't have that experience!" Kendra: "I didn't say they were organized. But they were passionate." Hee. Remember, Kendra's team didn't do everything right. Danny made a freaking mess out of a presentation that almost got her off on a very bad foot with the sponsors. But she didn't dwell on it, and that's really the difference. Tana interviews that of course, she was hoping to hear Kendra say her event was a disaster. Back in the L-Pal, Kendra mentions to Tana that it seemed like she was really giving her team what-for that morning in the suite. "I had fucking had it," Tana says. And then Tana returns to her interview in which she says that it seemed like Kendra's team was better, and -- more to the point -- really "wanted to help Kendra." Gee, I wonder why you didn't get any of that. Because I sure would want to help you, you swell lady.
The women wash their faces. Tana asks Kendra what parting from her team was like, and Kendra talks about how warm and fuzzy it was. "I cried," she says. Tana says she "was like, 'see ya later, y'all.'" Because she hated her team, get it? And she thinks it's funny. Kendra ducks into one of the actual toilet stalls and asks Tana who it was who fought. "Kristen and everybody?" Hee. Tana walks away, leaving Kendra to call her name from the potty. That's a weird, brilliant maneuver, including that moment. Because it somehow brilliantly points up how Tana is such a bitch, and Kendra is such a nice, friendly girl. And it's all about the potty. You never know where you're going to find a metaphor.
The day, Kendra and Tana pack their stuff and prepare to leave the L-Pal. Tana explains that she has "a perfect life," because she has a great husband and two kids she loves. Nevertheless, she wants "more," and she wants to "work for the best." Kendra, on the other hand, explains that she wants this job "more than anything." "I stopped my life," she says, "to come here. And today is my day." Tana interviews that she's fighting "somebody who had to go to school while I'm out making money." Kendra argues that she deserves the job more because she has "the complete package" -- the Book Smarts and the Street Smarts, as it were. Tana, grabbing her suitcase, says that the "high-school students have much more of an edge than the college students." She goes on: "We've fought for everything we've ever had." Did you know Tana did three years at the University of Virginia? She's not exactly carrying the banner for Dickensian scamps, here. "I don't sell cosmetics," Kendra says. "I buy and sell real estate." And while that comment is a little dismissive in its way, she's got a good argument that that distinction is relevant, because Trump works in real estate. She's not necessarily arguing that her experience is superior, so much as that it's related to the job in a way that Tana's isn't. They do a little more trash-talking, of which my favorite part is the part where Tana -- whose team hated her -- explains that she's a leader, and Kendra isn't. And then it is mercifully time to get out of the suite and into the Boardroom and stop listening to a bunch of yakking. Well, at least switch to a different kind of yakking. The part where Tana shuts up about being "a shark in a goldfish costume," because Tana? Shut up.
Ding! Tana and Kendra get off the elevator. They stroll into the Boardroom. Tana continues to struggle with appropriate business attire, as Kendra is in a suit, but Tana is in a khaki calf-length skirt, what looks like a black t-shirt, and a green suede jacket. She's business-casual, which is okay, but not for this, because it's not what everyone else wears. She just doesn't read rooms well, I'm telling you. Once they're seated, Trump makes his entrance. He welcomes Tana and Kendra, and of course, he has to remind us of the old Book/Street dichotomy that no one cares about.
Trump asks Tana how she did managing her team. Unsurprisingly, she announces that her team was bad, and given how bad her team was, she thinks she "did a very good job." Carolyn raises the issue of the way Tana talked about her team. Trump asks her whether she shit-talked her team to Carolyn. "Yes, I did," Tana admits. He asks Carolyn to elaborate, and she says that at first, it was "Three Stooges" and "Dumb and Dumber" and such, but then she reminds Tana of how she insulted Chris to the other people at the event. She says that all that's going to do is make the sponsor nervous and concerned. Tana insists that it was Chris's fault, because he "completely changed things" from what she wanted. Trump asks her whether that's because Chris is "uncontrollable," or whether that's the result of "bad leadership." Tana hesitates, but eventually admits that she doesn't think Chris is "uncontrollable." What did Tana think of Kristen, Trump wants to know. "She was okay," Tana says. "But I just don't like the drama that she created." I suppose Tana doesn't mind that she's trying to act semi-diplomatic, but will eventually be seen on television in moments where she says many more nasty things than that.
Trump now asks who came up with the programs. Tana says it was Kristen. Did Tana like them? She splits the hair that she liked the outside cover. Carolyn asks why she didn't proof the program, and points out a line that characterizes someone as, "Five medals; won't swim, but is great on camera." Heh. Not intended for the crowd, that one. I think what Carolyn is doing by pointing this particular line out is indicating that these aren't obscure typos or things for which you should need a copy editor. They're not hard things to catch, provided you even skim your program ahead of time. Kendra's mouth falls open in horror, which looks fairly genuine and not for show. Tana says no, she did not proof the programs, because she decided to count on Kristen -- whom she believed to be an idiot, remember -- to get them right. Carolyn gives Tana an awesome, amused look.
Now, Trump wants to talk about the flag. Why was there no American flag? Tana says that she thought there was one there, in the box of world flags. Which I don't think is all that stupid, really. That's probably what I would have thought. Ack! I am sympathizing with Tana. Toothy, silly, flighty, hates-her-team Tana. I feel dirty.
Trump asks Kendra how her team did. "My team did better on this task than most of them did when they were vying to work for you." "Did you like them as people?" Trump asks. "Yes," Kendra says, saying that there was no fighting with the team. "They loved you," Trump declares, and Kendra almost starts crying again. She says that along this "hard road," she's gotten along with some people and not with others, but ultimately, she feels like it ended "with grace and tact." In some kind of weird, passive-aggressive gesture, Tana shoves a tissue at Kendra and sort of snorts, "There you go. There you go." Kendra graciously takes it, ignoring the obvious dig, and pretend-dabs her eyes, while Trump says, "That's okay," because he knows Tana is being a dink. I can't imagine what possessed Tana to do anything that looked that petty, by the way -- she wasn't doing all that badly until right there, at least in Boardroom performance. Now? She sucks even more. Trump assures Kendra there's nothing wrong with crying. ["I found that comment quite touching, for some reason. It was so…paternal." -- Sars] "Your team really loved you," he stresses. "I will tell you that. I was surprised." Kendra responds that she likes to inspire people to get the best out of them, and it's awfully nice when it actually works that way. Trump asks how Kendra handled the sponsors, and she says she treated them as the number-one priority. She says things started off well, but Danny "scared them." George stops her and goes back, digging for something negative to say about her even though he obviously, openly thinks very highly of her. He challenges her on the fact that when they arrived for the meeting, she in fact was not there. Kendra agrees, but she says that she didn't realize Danny was going to hold that meeting. Trump says she should have known that Danny "was a loose cannon" and kept a closer eye on him. "After that particular moment," Kendra says, "I definitely did." I'm thinking that's a better answer than "Danny sucks, so I paid no attention to him." George returns to the question of why she would have left Danny with the sponsors, and Kendra says she scheduled the time, and didn't realize Danny would grab them, despite never being told that he should do that.
Trump returns to Tana, warming up for my least favorite segment by asking her whether she thinks not being "highly educated" is a disadvantage. Tana insists that education has nothing to do with the job. Really? Nothing? "My education came from the street," she says. Yes, the mean streets of Iowa, and the mean streets of the University of Virginia. It's a wonder she doesn't have more tattoos. She insists that she can handle people "in the street." At least if they want makeup.
Trump asks Kendra if she thinks Tana is at a big disadvantage because Kendra is educated and she isn't. Kendra says she does think lack of education is a liability. Kendra says that it's her position that when you start college, or anything else, "you should finish what you start." So that's a reference, you see, to the fact that Tana started college, but didn't finish. Trump asks Tana about that, and Tana confirms that she started college, went three years, and quit. She explains that she got married and left the state for her husband's job, but...you can still finish. She brings up the fact that she had kids, and Trump wants out of this boring conversation, so he says there's "no better thing to do than have children." Which totally isn't what he thinks, unless your kids are diamond-encrusted, but okay.
Trump now asks Tana whether she, the little Midwestern lady, is really equipped to deal with New York City in the first place. She insists that she can handle people from New York. "I know how to run with the wolves," Tana says, throwing in a comment that she's "not needy." Whatever that means. Kendra argues that she already does business with New Yorkers and people from all over the country. Tana argues that she's strong and doesn't "frazzle easily." And then she returns to her favorite theme, which is not being fooled by the fact that she's such a "nice person." I really don't think she's all that nice a person, if she really wants to know. But she sure thinks she is!
Trump goes to his favorite question now. "Kendra," he says seriously, "do you think you're better than Tana?" Kendra tries not to answer it, saying only, "I think that I want this more than Tana." Tana jumps in, wearing a genuine and true bitchface: "I have more at home waiting for me than Kendra does," she says with disgust. "She's alone, and I have two children and a husband. She's left nothing."
Oh. I get it. Not married, no kids. Therefore, she is alone. Because there is no one in the world except husbands and kids. That must be why if you don't have a husband or kids, your life -- all that you leave behind if you go into a secluded situation like this -- amounts to "nothing." You can have a business, perhaps a boyfriend/girlfriend, a family (you know, a family of origin, the kind Tana thinks doesn't count), friends you would lie on railroad tracks for...but you still leave "nothing." Yes, you are footloose and fancy-free, and you have no obligations whatsoever. Welcome to the free, easy, and entirely uncomplicated life of the single woman. I know I'm enjoying mine! I could get up tomorrow, leave town for six weeks, and nothing in my life would change at all. I would leave nothing! That obnoxious, self-important jerkweed. GOD.
Anyway, Kendra returns things to a more professional, less fucked-up state of affairs, refusing to rise to the bait and just saying, "I think that I am better suited to be the Apprentice than Tana." George asks her if this is because of her education. Kendra says her education is a help. But it's because she has "the total package." Kendra also points to her record -- she says that she won three times as PM, and Tana's loss (on the Bedazzler task) was to her. Kendra also points out her long winning streak. Tana counters, quite fairly, that Kendra also hung back and waited to be PM until everyone else had done it. "It was my strategy," Kendra says openly, and I'm a little shocked that Tana doesn't pick up on that, but she doesn't.
Asked whether she thinks Kendra is "better" than she is, Tana says she does not. She adds again that she has more waiting at home than Kendra (irrelevant; SHUT IT), which seems like just about the weakest possible point to wrap up on. Trump congratulates both of them for being here and being so awesome (read: TV-worthy), and he asks them to wait outside. When they're gone, Trump asks Carolyn for thoughts. Carolyn lies that she thinks it's "a very difficult decision." She says that Tana is "an incredibly nice person," but that Kendra "led her team very well." George says they're both good, and "have admirable traits." He also says that they were both given really difficult tasks and handled them well. "They're pretty amazing," Trump agrees. And he's got gold undies, so he knows from "amazing."
Just then, we see the six former employees get off the elevator. Ding! They head into the Boardroom, and we choose this very odd moment for the separation between this week's episode and week's. Thus, we leave Kendra and Tana sitting on the couch in the lobby, looking stressed out.
week: The big finale. The big, big, big finale.