There's some quick NYC porn -- sixty pairs of shoes thrown over an electrical wire, some pigeons, a homeless man eating Ritz crackers -- and we see Excel brainstorming their presentation. Rebecca and Randal want to have Jidé enter the room grandly, being "presented" to the executives as this fusion of World Beat character and plucky artisanship. He's wearing an awesome white suit jacket with flowery appliqués. Clay also agrees with this idea, mentioning the drama of having him out in the hall. It's a three-way agreement on keeping him out in the hallway until a point in the speech where they've built up the story itself, and then presenting him as living proof that leaving Nigeria at three years of age does not mean you're not without hardcore talent. Will this positively affect the execs' take on the song that follows? Absolutely, which is what pitches are about.
Rebecca practices the pitch itself, all about how they were instantly attracted to Jidé because he lit up the room with his smile (true) and because he originally presented a well-wrought R&B song but was open to exploring his Nigerian heritage (debatable), and then focuses on the point of the song, that spent his life shunning that background and only now wants to embrace it, personally and musically. Clay, at this point -- which is the actual fucking point of the speech -- starts playing a giant imaginary violin. Now Rebecca, you know, she doesn't like to be interrupted, especially for little-kid nonsense like this, and gives him a truly intense face.
"Okay, don't tell me that: tell me an idea, Clay." Because he has none, and can only say NO right now, just like another sabre-wielding sommelier we once knew, he immediately starts backtracking like he wasn't just giving her shit an eight-year-old would find lacked subtlety: "I'm not trying to…" Rebecca is pretty awesome: "No, I don't care: tell me an idea." Again he cannot: "You're telling too much of a story. That really doesn't go into the roots behind the song, it's not exciting." Thrice she denies this bullshit: "Okay. Tell me ideas." Nothing.
What about, like, if the song were about him bitching about how everybody's mean to him all the time and won't grant him an unearned exemption, and they get mad when he looks at asses, and think he's anti-Semitic, and like, he really wanted to be Alla's hall monitor, but she kept making him do stuff, and then they threw him off the team, even though he bitchily wanted off the team, and then he won and the other team killed themselves screaming, "We're sorry, we're sorry, you're the King of the World," but he didn't care, he just laughed at them, because they were on fire, and he watched them burning and screaming and he just laughed because they totally deserved it, because he was the only one in the Special People Club and they were totally jealous and mean to him, and Olivia Newton-John was his only friend? And then he got cute? And then he finally got to make out with Warren and they were in love and had magic powers?
Rebecca interviews succinctly that Clay "can't work with people," that he "couldn't work with Capital Edge," and now "can't work with us," that he's been "consistently disturbing to project managers and his teammates, on all tasks," and is in general "detrimental to a team," and wraps up with the fact that really, she can't "work successfully with Clay ever again." Well spit, girlfriend.