"Everybody out there that works nine to five has somebody like this at their job," Tommy reminds us. Still up his ass, Monique's looking for clarification. "You just picked up the phone and said, 'Hey, hey Tim?'" "No, I talked to his secretary. Well," and again, I cannot blame Tommy one little bit for fucking with her, "actually, my dad introduced me to him down here." Monique takes this as vindication for all her glass-ceiling bullshit theories and grins bitterly, because she is impervious to anything that doesn't support her essential belief that life is denying her something she is owed. "I'm sure my dad being in Marketing didn't hurt me at all, but it didn't help me at all either." Monique is forced to call bullshit using only her eyes, which are awesomely filling up with tears. But see, it's not like she's actually being denied something -- it's not like she wants to intern as a host and he's taking that slot away from her. She's crying with rage because she hates Tommy obsessively. That's it, that's the whole reason, and that's why I must despise her. Regardless of nepotism or sexism or whatever, she has no personal stake in what happens to Tommy. It's not taking food out of her mouth or the mouths of her poor fucked-up abused kids. It's not keeping her from holding down a job as Floor Supervisor. It does nothing to her but piss her off. Because she is awful.

Tommy -- gleefully, I admit -- points out in an interview that Monique has been at the casino twelve years, while he's been there five months, and if he gets a job as a host he'll "leapfrog right over her." Which would be totally true, except you're not going to be a host for quite a while regardless. Dream big, Li'l Tommy. "Cool," she says, pissed as all get out. Weirdly defensive, and not disengaging like he should at this point, Tommy holds out an olive branch of sorts, a white flag with "Fuck off" written so small on it you can barely see it. "I know I'm a little too young for this." "Ya think?" snits Monique. "How many 23-year-old hosts do you know?" She spits out the word "None" like it's the type of poison she just slipped in his drink, or the number of her family members screwed by Enron. Like she's saying "checkmate." "I mean, all in all, she's still my boss," philosophizes Tommy, "and I guess I have to respect her" -- wait for it -- "because...I still don't know if I'm going to get this job." Heh. "But I love the fact that Monique is so jealous." Me too. Because, see, if she's not going to do her job? Managing him like an adult with self-esteem and the use of reason? The next best thing would be to let him self-destruct. I mean professionally. But you can't, and I can see you staring at Tommy. Luckily -- for you, Monique -- he's fucking up two shots of royally, because he can't concentrate due to the host stuff, and John his father and the current Pit Boss have to step in. He's dealt cards to people that aren't even in the game. Ouch. Monique makes that oh boy face I hate so damned much, where she attempts to make the face in all directions simultaneously so you will see her and be like, "I know, right? You're so right about everything all the time. Let's set Tommy Sunstrum on fire!"