Here is why Jack needs an assistant: today he must decide the order of studying for the test, practice parallel parking, and then take his driver's test. He cannot make this decision on his own. Because he's richer than you are. It makes the hemispheres of the brain have difficulty in speaking with each other, you see.
And for the next five minutes or so, we watch Jack attempt to parallel-park. Recapping someone driving a car is a lot like drawing someone on the phone. Why would you do that? Who does that help? What essence of American life have you captured? Where is the soul? Where's the comedy? What are we all still doing here? Why am I so broke and Jack has a BMW and an assistant? Why am I working at an hour when Jack's still got at least three more REM cycles to go? So Jack's not so good at parallel parking. So bad, in fact, that he backs into another car. A car that's completely blurred so that we can't call the cops for the driver, since Jack appears only to be concerned for his own car's damages. Amanda, amazingly, says that this wasn't Jack's fault. Jack's car is filthy. Amanda, worst teacher ever, tells Jack that everybody hits something while learning to parallel-park. Usually those things are cones. But I guess that explains why my bumpers have gotten so jacked up since I moved to Los Angeles. I don't know if they just didn't show us or what, but it appears Jack and Amanda have just driven away from the accident without leaving a note. Jack is devastated that a little piece of his car has broken. Like he's going to pay for the repairs.