Apprentice
Meet The Billionaire

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Miss Alli: B | Grade It Now!
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Donald Trump and the suck-ups

And indeed it is. "Money money money mo-ney," goes the soundtrack. Ah, the O-Jays. An excellent choice. The credits are top-notch, very stylish and cool-looking. They're much hipper in feel, actually, than some parts of the show. We see all of the contestants, but I won't tell you about them now, since they're about to be introduced in a minute. I'll just say that they all kind of come off like sleazeballs, which is appropriate. And, you know, kind of accurate.

When we return from credits, it's back to Manhattan skyline shots. I'll tell you, if you love looking at New York -- which I do -- this show will at least offer you a lot of opportunities to do that. As sweet young things of all types roll up to Trump Tower in limos, Donald voices over that these people will compete against each other, but they will also -- of course -- live together in a Trump Tower suite. They'll be divided into two tribes -- er, "teams" -- and every week, they'll be confronted with a task. Whichever team loses will have to go to the Boardroom, where someone will be fired. Fired! There will be no payout of sick time, and no COBRA eligibility. And don't even think about taking the stapler.

A young, sweet-faced woman gets off an opulent elevator on what is presumably some high floor of the Trump Tower, and she runs smack into a receptionist sitting behind a high desk, right in front of giant letters reading, "THE TRUMP ORGANIZATION." Only, of course, the word "Trump" is in giant letters that dwarf everything else, including the people in the room, the building, and the city of New York. The young woman, among other things, is rolling her suitcase behind her. I think that's actually a no-no in many job-hunting guidebooks. "Do Not Bring Your Luggage." Somewhat tentatively, she approaches the receptionist. "I'm here to, uh, interview with Donald Trump," she says with a nervous smile, as if the following thought has just entered her mind for the first time: "Oh, God, this might be really stupid." Too late! The receptionist asks for her name. "Jessie Connors," she chirps. And so it begins.

Jessie is from New Richmond, Wisconsin, and she talks like it. Her intro footage shows her by a farm building with a horse or something. Is she a farmer? Because there are a few people in Wisconsin who don't make their living from agriculture. Brett Favre is the only one I can think of right now, but I'm sure there are others. She says that she only has a high school diploma, but owns a marketing firm and sells real estate. Of course, a lot of these people are going to claim to "own firms," and I'm sure that many of them legitimately do, but I would remind you that I own a business also, and it consists of me, my computer, my bank account, and -- very often -- my pajamas. "Marketing firm" is a very elastic term, so just remember that "owning a business" doesn't necessarily involve riding herd over hundreds of employees and decorating your private office with Oriental rugs. Oh, and Jessie is twenty-one. Aw, I remember when I was twenty-one. I think my main professional aspiration was poverty avoidance.

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Apprentice

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