The boys are in Pete's office speculating about the future of the company. Salvatore, Ken, and Paul seem inclined to panic, while Harry thinks that they'll promote Don to partner, and then everyone (meaning the clients, I assume) will fall in line. Pete's the only one who disagrees that Don will be made partner, and for someone who sees JFK's and Elvis's appeal, he sure has a blind spot when it comes to Don Draper. I mean, you'd think he'd draw a connection based on the womanizing alone. After some talk about whom Draper likes, Paul points out that cleaning out people at the top is good for them -- it opens up spots. Pete considers this with a "Wow, it's almost like you're talking about...a pyramid!" look on his face. Good thinking, dickhead.
Peggy's on her date at some Italian restaurant; the guy's pretty cute and cleans up well, and is also super-tall, which you can tell even though he's sitting down (his IMDb profile lists him as 6'5"). However, even though he offers that his mom wouldn't shut up about her, she answers "Isn't that nice" in a way that tells you loads about how badly this is going to go. He looks a little bummed that she smokes, but gamely lights her cigarette as she twitters that it's "practically mandatory" at her office before understatedly gagging on her first puff. Oh, Peggy. The waiter comes with drinks (a Rheingold for the guy, which is awesome, and a Brandy Alexander for Peggy); he notices that she makes a face when she sips the drink, and she tells him that her "friend Joan" orders them for her, and they're usually much sweeter. Oh, the irony. Peggy volunteers that Joan's a "scream" and lives in the city, and then babbles about some bar in Manhattan where the glasses are chilled. Carl (that's his name, although I'm not sure it's mentioned) looks unimpressed, although it's still Indian Summer and one of those would probably be pretty refreshing right now. Anyway, Peggy, with too much attitude, announces that Carl drives a truck. He tries to tell her about how he bought his own route, how he needed a special license, how his sister's a secretary too, but every overture is met with a stomping from Peggy's new Manhattan-loving shoes. He then turns the tide by saying that advertising doesn't work on him, and it takes less than five seconds before Peggy is asking him why he's insulting what she does. Honey, don't dish it out if you can't take it -- even your idol Joan The Scream would tell you that. He bitterly tells her (and sure, he's probably being oversensitive, but it sure doesn't excuse her snooty attitude) that he's his own boss, and he's sure they're not exactly showering her with gold at her job. "Let me tell you: You can act like you're from Manhattan, but you don't look like those girls." Oof. He hit her where it hurts. Right in the fat suit. She starts to leave, and to his credit, he apologizes, twice even, but it's not like she was ever interested in giving him a chance, and her parting shot is this: "Those people? In Manhattan? They are better than us. 'Cause they want things they haven't seen." You may be pleased with yourself here, Peggy, but you are going to catch hell from your mother for this.