Jenn heads over to the Nugget employment office, apparently straight from her career counseling sessions with the cocktail waitress and the pimp, although having made a quick stop to adjust her salon-perfect zigzag part, and starts filling out forms. The silver-haired Deborah, Nugget "Employment Representative," is so chirpy and elementary-school librarian that she obviously has no idea that she's all that is standing between Jenn and a career in hookerdom. "You speak English?" Heh. "Any other languages?" Jenn's like, "Well, ancient Greek and koine, but my French is comme-ci, comme-ca." No she's not, I'm lying. Please, she went to public school in Portland and she dresses like a stripper. Deborah has the balls to condescend to Jenn about her stint at cosmetology school, then confirms that Jenn is applying to be a cocktail server, and only then -- although in the exact same "Judy at Time-Life" voice, and without pausing a beat, which is awesome -- tells Jenn that there is nothing available, in such a way as to suggest that she's interested in selling Jenn a time-share in the vicinity of Unemploymentville. She's almost joyful as she tells Jenn to check back in "ten days to two weeks!" Jenn's face makes with the cute consternation. I'm not saying she's not adorable, because she is, under all that slutty clothing and makeup. I'm just saying she's contrived. Deborah tells Jenn that the department will review her application and contact her "by phone or by mail!" Which is awesome, because in either case it's "c/o Golden Nugget Hotel and Casino," the building they're both sitting in, the one that's keeping Jenn from being homeless while FOX foots her bill. She then dismisses Jenn with a glowing, "That's it! Have a good day!"
Back in interview, Jenn gets to my favorite part of the whole episode. "They didn't have a job for me right away, so I kind of hit a brick wall, and I didn't know what to do for money, so I started looking into other things." So cool. What things, you ask? Not time for the prostitution yet. That's awesome how fake this is. She is living here for a week and it's -- basically the whole thing is so obviously contrived that Burnett's pretty much showing his ass here, because why is she living here? Why can't she go outside? Why can't she go look for a job elsewhere? So stupid. So now she goes down to Zax, to see...YES! Matt "Velvet" Dusk. I knew this was bound to get good sometime. With the martini you always drink when you've been turned down from your very first job interview ever and are trying very hard to dedicate yourself to finding employment, you know, maybe outside the building you're living in, she spots Tom across the room. Does he come to watch Matt "Velvet" Dusk every single night? I would. She -- wearing a variation on the black-black-black ensemble, this time with those long silver hanging-stick earrings and a much thicker silk ribbon choker -- heads right up into his face. Even she kind of sheepishes here, noting that he is only "slightly accessible -- I kind of interrupted something." He doesn't seem to mind, and immediately offers that he is "Tom. Of the Tim and Tom Connection." Oh, Tom. Jesus. I mean, he's pretty, he's a good-looking guy. But the toolishness and the dream-state ADD-slash-complete lack of awareness of anything beyond what's currently in his view are really difficult to take, with the "put some coin down" and the "Tim and Tom Connection." He's like if Remington Steele were played by Ashton Kutcher. "The Tim and Tom Connection"? Christ. In its way, that's as deeply disturbing as the creepy sex stuff featured in every episode. I'd send him a clue but he'd just sell it for some magic beans.