An establishing shot of a brownstone gives way to a thin brunette saying, "I must sound like a cliché." Honey, I've been doing this for over five years now. Setups like that are frankly a little insulting. The woman says she wonders if Karl is seeing someone else, and the apparent couples therapist, a middle-aged black woman with the requisite amount of world-weariness, asks Karl if that's true. He says yes: "My staff of twelve hundred employees who count on me each and every day!" And that blonde bimbo you're screwing, but actually, she'll be part of your staff soon enough. The wife complains that she asked him to go to The Nanny Diaries on a Sunday, and he said he had to work. Well, I'll give Karl that one -- I would have said the same thing. But they get into a repetitive back-and-forth, and I've never been in couple's therapy, but every depiction I've seen of it suggests that this sort of tennis match of an argument isn't the idea. You're supposed to take turns at listening, right? Eventually, the therapist asks Karl if, "as a gesture to Wendy," he couldn't find the time to take her to the movies. This...is what they're paying a couple's therapist for? A how-to solution that could be found in any issue of Cosmo? Karl then gets a text from "Marla" that reads, "I miss your penis." I also would have thought phones are supposed to be switched off, but then we couldn't see Karl's text font, and you'd think the billionaire would be able to afford one that doesn't look like it was lifted from Pong. Karl goes catatonic for a moment, causing the therapist to yell at him, whereupon he apologizes, saying he forgot to switch off his penis. Yeah, we already figured you're skimming Viagra from your company, dude.
Establishing shot of some office building that I'm embarrassed not to be able to place. A pretty Asian woman in a business suit is interviewing Duncan; she says he's being too modest, as he put himself through night school selling cosmetics door-to-door. So...a bunch of lonely housewives answered the door to find a young Dylan McDermott. My guess is the Avon lady fell on some rough times indeed. The reporter goes on that now, fifteen years later, he's branded Reveal as the industry leader. Duncan, um, is rolling two golf balls around in his hand as he skeevily hits on her; without changing her sunny tone, she tells him he'll probably be on the cover of her magazine Entrepreneur in November, but she has one question: Does he spend much time in Yonkers? He hems and haws, and she overacts on that there are rumors about him into which she intends to look. He seems to think she's making a play for some action here, but after she shakes his hand, she walks away looking entirely too pleased with herself.