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The Apprentice: Donald Trump, Week 2: Lamborghini and the NY Islanders
Original Air Date: 9/29/05
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Next comes the print campaign. Excel’s Mark Lamkin works with a designer from the ad firm and stresses over whether or not the “I” in Italian should be in lower or upper case. He ultimately picked a lower case “i” even though Markus vehemently disagrees. If only we had the No Child Left Behind Act a decade ago…
Marshawn leaves a bad taste in Kristi’s mouth when she decides to devote all her time and energy on the print campaign rather than overseeing the editing of the TV spot. Eeeesh, girl, it’s not like you’re going to be judged on the commercial more!
Donald Trump is true to his word and choppers Randal Pinkett to his grandmother’s funeral. Wow, maybe Trump has a heart afterall. Before Randal goes, his teammates all trip over themselves to out PC each other, telling him “to take the day” and just focus on his grandmother and not worry about the task... there will be time enough to screw him next week—Holy crap! They didn’t. Oh yes, they did. So much for Trump’s heart. The show actually crashes the funeral and shows shots of the funeral procession. Don’t mind us—you just go on bereaving—we just want to milk this for all it’s worth.
Even Randal gets in on the action. Now, I know everyone grieves in his own way and you’re not supposed to judge, but he jets back to New York to make it just in time for the ad presentations and tells everyone how “inspired” he was by his grandma to make a success of himself and that his efforts to be the next Apprentice are “a tribute” to her. Move aside, everyone. Randal has just locked up the exemption for the next four weeks.
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Heading into the presentations, Carolyn Kepcher thinks the entire Excel team is too cocky for their own good. I have to second that. Chris, in particular, reminds me of Kenny Roger’s Gambler: “You never count your money when you are sitting at the table.” George Ross though thinks Capital Edge’s TV ad is just plain “hodge podge.”
Capital Edge is the first to present. Dressed in all black, the women practically cartwheel into the room like cheerleaders, each shouting “Strength!” or “Intimidation!” or some other word channeling their inner Lamborghini, as they each turn around a poster board of one of their print ads. Then comes their video, comprised mostly of snapshots of the stick shift, engine, and dash, intercut with black title cards, posing questions like “Can you handle it?” The execs are more than pleased.
Excel’s turn at bat. They decide to show their TV ad first and well, let’s just say that Hasbro won’t be calling them to make an ad for Transformers any time soon. What should be a whoosh of a car like in Back to the Future is more like a teetering old man breaking into a walk. So much for machismo. Chris pushes through the awkward silence and talks the execs through the print campaign. Pushing aside all his mumble jumble about the rebirth and the rising from the waters and some other crap better left to an art class about Boticelli, Mr. Bragg points out that the initial “i” in “italian” should be capitalized. Don’t worry, Mark—your brochure for that remedial English class your mother has been begging you to take is already in the mail.
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Don’t mind us—you just go on bereaving—we just want to milk this for all it’s worth.
