Peggy's reading The New York Times (you can see the TV listings on the back, remember those?) when the realtor calls about the offer. After a bit more brittleness from her (the words "May I speak?" are uttered), she tells Peggy that she realized with "trouble" only ten blocks away, the seller is probably on pins and needles, so since "the other buyer" didn't come in (they never do), why don't they make an offer at $5,000 under the asking price? Considering that number is twenty-eight grand, she's proposing an awfully big discount, but Peggy balks not because of that but because she's worried about the neighborhood now too. The broker, however, tells her it's the only apartment for her, and she won't want to regret not getting it. "And of course I'll wait until tomorrow to present." Peggy's face looks like this whole scenario isn't sitting well with her, but her conscience doesn't find her voice, and the realtor takes her silence as assent: "Good girl." If nothing else, Peggy, this experience is going to make you more assertive with brokers. It's a valuable addition to your toolbox.
Good Lord, this Walsh walks like a freak - he keeps his hands clasped in front of him and practically glides. After some awkwardness where Walsh gives Don a little wave rather than shake his hand, they sit down with Roger, Stan, and Ginzo - whereupon Walsh informs the room that he doesn't drink and he doesn't really even want to talk. "I was trying to communicate without words, but it's not working." Roger snaps, "[Walsh], it NEVER works!" Hee. I don't know how Roger got saddled with this guy, but I have the feeling I could find out in the pages of Sterling's Gold. Roger explains to the room that Walsh has an idea his ad director refuses to take a chance on, and after we get clarification that Walsh's particular field is property insurance, he announces that he's after "a no-bullshit approach to why I got into this business. People say they care. I really care." He then lapses into silence, and everyone's all "..." until Roger is like, "We're waiting for you." I love how Roger has to be the weirdo translator here; it oddly suits him.
Walsh says he envisions his company's name and a Molotov cocktail being lit with a match, and then a coupon at the bottom, and he's got his eyes closed during this little spiel, so he doesn't see the amazing look of disbelief Don throws Roger's way. Ginzo, bless him, is able to pull off a straight read of this line: "The ad sales guy didn't like that?" Hee. To drive the point home, the show has been careful not to mention an affiliation for Walsh; they probably could defend it from a legal standpoint, but it's just common courtesy not to put a company's name to something this out there. Walsh at least says he knows what the proposal looks like - "fearmongering" - but it's actually "a coded message that came to me when I was visited by the spirit of Dr. King last night. He said that I should question the whole property thing, man." Don's face is running out of expressions, while Stan can't take it any longer and just busts out in a huge grin. Walsh mistakes this to mean the pitch is making him happy, but Don cuts in to, evenly enough given the circumstances, say that the whole thing is in poor taste. Walsh replies that that's because he'd rather not think about it, and he may have a point, but it's lost in the follow-up about "all the tears in the world, all the animals crying," so Don gives up, leaving Roger once again to intermediate as he says that "despite what we believe to be good intentions," Walsh is allowing recent events "and whatever else you've got in your system" (hee) to influence him.