Outside, Tarek is very effing decent, shaking Summer's hand and wishing her luck. "I'm sorry," he says. I haven't seen that, on the parts of this show I've seen previously, and it helps me deal with the fact of him. There's being a good man, and knowing how to get there, and it's not something you can do by sheer force of will, or by rowing crew or joining Mensa. But at least he wants something to be proud of, so maybe he'll grow out of it. I certainly hope so. She babbles stupidly at him, and exeunt.
Awesome part number three or four chronologically, but equal to or better than the Pine Barrens shit a second ago. "Sort of obvious there at the end, wasn't it?" Trump says this like a goober in a suit. Carolyn smirks so hard, the sidewalk outside Trump Tower groans and cracks. "...A little obvious before that," and the "…jackass" at the end of that sentence could set your ass on fire. Trump ends on a high note, though: "I'll tell you what: Tarek is totally overrated." Which I guess means that he's going to be around the whole season, lugging his dot-matrix smarty-pants certificates and daddy issues all over New York state.
"NEXT SEASON THE APPRENTICE IS HEADING TO L.A. AND IT'S GOING TO BE TOUGH," Trump shrieks at us in a bumper, and then Summer jabbers at us about how she's "happier with [herself] than [she's] ever been," and how "these bright people don't know half of what my family taught me without an education in my own home." Apparently her home also lacked punctuation, because I have no idea what she means by this.
Lessons learned: Don't bother dealing with people you can't interface. It's not your job, as a manager, to manage your employees. It's your job to banish them and then blame them for being banished. Demonstrating pettiness and trying to be "cutthroat" well ahead of the game is only cute if you're Hateful Jim, and even then, only if I'm watching you do it, because everybody else hates you. However, you will not be reprimanded beyond slight jeering if you do so, because it's not important to point the finger at the actual party to blame, because none of this is important, because we're fairly certain that somebody died in Africa once. Being totally hot and a genius is worth nothing if your entire life, history, persona are about self-loathing. If you grew up poor, it's best to learn nothing from it, because apparently you can always buy back your childhood with some gold-plated crap and a mannequin for a wife. Honor, respect, and real inner kindness might get you by, but they mean nothing to the gods of success. And if you honestly think that your self-identified brilliance exempts you from correcting your luridly party-girl and/or chess champion vibe, get real with the fact that people are exactly as shallow as you think they are, because that's how first impressions work. They don't know you got there from nothing, they don't know how smart you are, they don't know how funny your friends think you are: they see what you look like, and it's ugly but it's true and nobody's exempt, and you'll get busted just as bad for looking sloppy at thirty as you did when you were eight. Sorry.