The next day is Task Day, and here comes a red SUV lugging Net Worth's Castingmobile. Audrey motions it over to the curb, and the trailer is secured. Now, why it's so important to run a "mobile business" when they're not going to move all day long is rather a mystery to me, because it seems to me that they could have done this from any storefront, but...there you go. Tana interviews that she was happy with their location, as we see banners go up that say "Actor Factor Casting." Wow, "Actor Factor"? That is blindingly lame. The trailer opens up and lets in Meredith, the thousand-dollar casting lady. She is shown into the trailer and, to everyone's surprise, talks about how very beautiful the trailer is. And it's by Airstream! And it's for sale! You could buy one! For about $60,000 for a "classic" 28-footer! And then Tana sends the team out to "scream it out." Because this is their marketing idea. They've decided to employ the "scream on the street" technique. We watch as Angie -- who is doing something even more odd than usual with her hair today, and appears to have little horns or Leia-buns or something -- tries to hand out flyers to passing random strangers. In an interview, John points out that Angie had promised that there would be a flood of willing actors and actresses, and right now, the flood isn't deep enough to get the tops of anyone's shoes wet, particularly. Moreover, the people who are showing up don't particularly want to pay the $25 fee that's apparently being charged for a handful of minutes with a casting director. As a couple of people appear to scurry away from the trailer, Craig comments to Chris that some of them seem to have attended a workshop where they were told, "Don't you ever pay for a casting." And if I were an actor, I believe that's the attitude I would take. Because it does kind of have "scam" written all over it. Angie looks nervous. I would, too.
We move to Magna, where the day spa is being set up. And then they're underway, and they're moving the morning's first massages. At ten bucks for ten minutes, it's not a terrible deal if you had some time on your way to work. Bren explains that after being open for about half an hour, the room is full of people, and things seem to be good. Erin hustles guys on the street into feeling like they'll prove how masculine they are by getting a massage, which is a pretty good trick. Michael, in the least energetic way you can imagine, half-assedly asks people on the street whether they want massages. But you can tell he hates doing it, and New York has enough guys handing out flyers who are inordinately excited about their work that nobody is going to take up from a guy who looks this miserable. Michael comes over and tells Bren that the problem is that it's "creepy" to have a man handing out flyers for a massage. Excuse me? Maybe it's what a total pushover I am, but a cute boy would be the most likely salesperson to get me to get a massage. Granted, Michael is not cute, so perhaps that's his problem, but there's nothing about a man doing this that's odd in the slightest. I suppose he's back on his Nescafe theory in which all customers are horny straight guys, and I guess if you assume that, and if you're an idiot, then you'd think it was weird to have a man do the selling. Erin interviews that Michael indeed took a position of total helplessness throughout the entire task.