Wes, meanwhile, sidelines a woman and tells her she can work as their scooper, and you can see the little cartoon bubble over her head going, "Hee hee, okay, you have nice hair." Kevin interviews that there was some recruiting of attractive women to help with the sales, just to try to cover all the bases. ("From noon to 2:00 PM, we will sell to the male 18-49 heterosexual demographic! From 2:00 to 3:00, we'll cover women who like men who dress as women! Who wants to wear the tube top?") John appears to go a couple of rounds of "celebrity ice cream scoopers," who are really just girls he pulled off the street. (Hey, that's how a lot of regular celebrities are found, too.) "The lovely Anna!" Raj yells. "The world's coldest gelato," Andy offers, "served by the world's hottest person." Ugh. Pamela claims in an interview that some of the comments were more offensive than this, and were of the "check out her body" variety, but we don't see any quite like that. She also says that the guys claimed that if you bought an ice cream, "you could make out with her." Indeed, Chris yells that any man who purchases an ice cream gets a free kiss. Chris, did you even ask the lovely Anna if she likes boys? Did it ever occur to you that she might not want to kiss anyone for buying an ice cream? It's not clear whether it really follows from that, but the lovely Anna gets herself up and gone in a bit. As Pamela notes with some amusement, Andy gets himself the lovely Anna's phone number. "As if he's going to call her from the suite and invite her up to meet eighteen of his closest friends." Yeah, really. "Hey, baby, want to come up and see my...roommates and my basketball hoop?" She probably just wants a job with Trump. I think the lovely Anna is already more useful than half of the women on Apex.
Speaking of Apex, Maria pushes the Red Velvet as hard as she can. And who else seems to be selling? Oh, look. Stacie. I'm sure they'll give her lots of credit later, don't you think? Baldford is also out selling, and his particular brand of blowhardy, gonzo nonsense seems to appeal to some of the people he encounters. I, personally, run the other way from precisely this kind of overly aggressive, accosting kind of seller, but whatever. He claims he was bringing "entertainment." Interestingly, the guy whom Baldford starts loudly referring to as "The Rock" -- who, I would add, looks nothing like The Rock -- appears unamused, like all he wanted to do was buy an ice cream and not be hassled about his huge, bulky neck. Ivana, however, interviews that she now realizes all that Baldford can "bring to the table." Bleh. "[Baldford] is a hustler," Ivana declares admiringly. Eh. I guess I'm the kind of person who can take or leave that brand of hustling.
Meanwhile, Jennifer C. calls a restaurateur and asks him to come to "see [the] street team" about the ice cream. She crows about getting the restaurant person to come to them rather than the other way around, and Ivana talks about how this will let them "optimize selling time." When the restaurant owners come to them, everyone just goes on and on about how brilliant this is, and this is why Stacie thought of hiring temps. Get it? You can't leave, because you all have to stay and sell, so you manage to drag one guy down to see them, and you wind up selling him $655 worth of ice cream, or so you're claiming. If you had, by putting temps on the busywork for the $300 cited above, been able to free up some people for one more visit that would have been equally successful -- if, for instance, you freed people up to go on four visits, and just one had worked out -- you would have won the task. Convinced yet? At least that you shouldn't have looked at her like she was crazy for thinking of it? At least that it was worth considering? Because it was.