Betty and Don, dressed to the nines, unsteadily enter their bedroom, seemingly having just come from a ceremony at which Don won an award. Apparently jinxes don't affect this show, considering Jon Hamm went on to win a Golden Globe. Don notes that no one wants to look like they care about awards, but Betty giggles that he does, in fact, and Don admits it's true with an "Isn't that sad?" They talk about Roger for a moment before Betty extends her hand to Don, and he tells her "Enchanted," before kissing it. They move in for a smooch but end up hitting foreheads, which is a hilarious touch, and one they both take as a sign to give up and get into bed without any further undressing...
...and then it's five to eight in the morning, and Don and Betty groggily lift their heads, both looking like hell. Do you remember on The Jetsons, how in the age of videophones, people used what they called "morning masks" to hide their scary just-woke-up faces and hair? Tell me 1960 couldn't have used those. Don and Betty barely have time to hack up a lung before their kids start running in, and I know the show takes a pretty dim view of marriage but I didn't expect it to be quite so obvious in its anti-children bent as well. I do give Betty points for her succinct "Shit" at hearing the time, though. Anyway, Ethel is apparently downstairs and making them breakfast, and I expect it from Don, but I have to admire Betty for not hurling on the spot at the mention of food. Sally notices the award, and we learn that both Roger and Don were honored, although we don't hear what for, exactly. I'd guess Best Ad Campaign for Don, and Best Hiring Decision for Roger. Betty, showing that she's got her priorities in order, heads for the Alka-Seltzer. Don: "Just do it in the kitchen. I don't want to hear the bubbles." Don coughs again and closes the bathroom door, and the horseshoe on the award falls off its mount in response. Heh.
Don appears almost human as he enters the office, and if it's still the A.M., I'm certainly impressed. The girl at the front door congratulates him, saying she heard Advertising Age ran a picture of him. Don self-deprecatingly says that fortunately, no one reads it, although if people who look like him keep winning awards, that's bound to change.
Ken has just shown something to Peggy that she terms "amazing," and then when Don appears, Peggy tells him she'll get Pete and Paul. "They wanted you to know they were waiting, but they left." Hee. Peggy sees Don and Ken into Don's office and congratulates them both, and as she leaves, Don asks Ken what he did to deserve kudos. Ken hands a magazine over as he tells Don that he got a short story published in The Atlantic Monthly. We get a closeup of the first page, which reads "Tapping A Maple On A Cold Vermont Morning," and we can also see Ken's bio: "A graduate of Columbia University, Kenneth Cosgrove has lived in the New York area for most of his life. Working for the advertising firm of Sterling Cooper puts Mr. Cosgrove in a unique position to observe and study the trends that shape America today." Way to play it straight, Props Department. Pete and Paul enter and hear the news, and it's hard to say who's the more surprised, and who's the more dismayed. (In case it's not clear, they're both a lot of both.) Paul tries to be dismissively disbelieving about the whole thing, but this plan backfires, as Ken says that short fiction isn't even his strong point -- he's written two novels, and gives a quick plot synopsis of both as Paul and Pete look like they're the ones that drank a fifth too many the night before. Paul grudgingly admits that the premises sound interesting, and Ken offers to let him read one, but Paul deflects by bringing things around to business, saying he wants to talk about Liberty Capital Savings. Paying attention to business won't get that novel written, Paul. You think Ken wrote those on his own time? Anyway, Pete tells us that the bank is trying to get people into its branches, even if just for a visit, and Don muses that their strategy is silly, because it only serves to attract women, who for the most part aren't in charge of the household banking. He gets An Idea and says that men need their own accounts, beyond the family. Everyone sees the wisdom in that, and Paul adds that statements would be sent to the office, before suggesting, "Liberty Capital Private Account." Don amends that to "Executive Account," and before you know it, everyone's leaving with the satisfaction of having participated in A Job Well Done. As a reward, Don gets a call from Midge, who informs him she had a phone put in. Oh, Midge, how un-bohemian of you! What will the beatniks down at the experimental poetry house say? Outside, Peggy picks up the phone and accidentally hears their conversation; she starts to hang up, but is mesmerized by the prurient talk and so stays on until Midge tells Don just to get over there. "I want you to ravish me and leave me for dead." She's using hyperbole, Peggy. No need to call the police. Peggy carefully places the receiver back in its cradle ahead of Don appearing and saying he'll be back after lunch. I'd make fun of him for coming in at all if he hadn't been more productive in the fifteen minutes he was in than most people there are all day. Peggy uncertainly watches him go.