"Well, of course she's going to be disappointed," Lily says, her voice dripping with concern. She's at work, on the phone with Jake, who's apparently trying to beg off spending an evening with Zoe. The Curmudgeon looms over Lily's shoulder, asking, "Got the numbers?" Lily scrambles among the papers on her desk while cradling the phone against her shoulder and continuing with the guilt trip. The Curmudgeon lumbers around behind her, waiting impatiently and watching her disapprovingly. She finally locates the page of numbers and simultaneously tells Jake that she has to go. She meekly apologizes to the Curmudgeon as she hands him the sheet and starts explaining why she's having trouble with Jake. She catches the look on his face and stops herself, realizing that he's not interested in hearing about her personal life. He assures her, "You can tell me anything. As long as it's not about people." I think I'm in love.
Behind them, Dr. Snyderman starts ranting at one of her callers. "Now what is your stupid question?" she huffs, leaning heavily against her desk. The caller starts stammering that she's been dating a man, but Snyderman cuts her off, snapping, "Dating? Or shacking up?" Her contempt is palpable. Lily and the Curmudgeon glance toward the booth. Lily mutters, "She's so mean." The Curmudgeon retorts, "She's worse than mean. She's wacko." He marches toward the booth.
Meanwhile, over at Sammler and Associates, Rick's being besieged by another wacko. Namely, Karen, who's berating him for letting Jessie go on the date. She demands, "And when exactly was this decision made?" Rick struggles for patience and tries to give her some perspective: "Karen, it's a date. Not Vatican II." Karen's not amused. She mutters a veiled threat, saying, "Don't put me in a position where I have to take action." Rick jumps at this: "Action? What action, Karen?" Karen complains that she doesn't want to keep having "this conversation" with him "over and over." He tells her not to, then. She whisper-yells that she has to: "I am being completely left out of the decision-making process!" The ass-pole lets out a whoop. Rick tries to explain that there wasn't exactly a formal decision-making process; Jessie simply told them about the date at dinner. Karen's fighting hard not to lose it as the ass-pole whips itself into a frenzy. She whisper-shrieks, "I don't care!" For six square blocks, dogs writhe and whimper at the sound. Rick keeps yammering that Jessie may not even go, while Karen fumes on about being left out. They finish griping at the same time and stare at one another. After a second, Karen asks, "So, have you at least laid eyes on this boy?" Rick easily lies that he has. He sits at his desk and fidgets with some papers to avoid her laser-beam eyeballs. "So, what's he like?" she finally asks. "Oh, you know. Swarthy. A convicted felon." Hey! Isn't that a bit insulting to swarthy people? There are pasty convicts, too, you know. The ass-pole isn't immune to Rick's "charms," however, and decides to save its fight for another day. "So, does she really like him, or something?" Karen asks weakly, as though terrified of the answer. Rick says he guesses so. Karen wearily rests against the edge of Rick's desk, sighing and asking, "How did we get here?" Rick sighs, too, and says he doesn't know.