Dogs: Girl's Best Friend or Inadequate Substitute for Fathers?

In the third episode of Mad Men, "The Marriage of Figaro," Don lays the charm on Rachel Menken at work and attempts to ruin his daughter's birthday party at home. Plus, opera music!

Previously: Pete came by Peggy’s for a late night booty call, Don and Rachel Menken fought and then flirted, Betty saw a shrink because she’s a sad, empty woman, and Slattery had a raging man crush on Don (but, you know, who doesn’t?).

Snazzy credits, then we open on Don, sitting on a train, staring at an ad for a Volkswagon Beetle that reads “Lemon.” A heavyset man walks by, then stops and says to Don, “Dick? Richard Witman? Holy smokes, is that you?” The guy, Larry, introduces himself and it seems he thinks they were in the army together. Don stares and looks a little confused, then goes along with the guy and tells Larry he works upstate. Larry is very friendly, even giving Don his card and tells him they should catch up. Don says “absolutely” in that tone you use when you know something is never, ever gonna happen (for example, when my roommate says, “I think I’m going to wake up at 6 tomorrow and go to the gym before class,” and I say, “Absolutely.”). Larry finally leaves, and Don looks confused and unsettled. It seems weird to me for Don to be so passive and let the guy think he’s someone else, but this whole episode is, in a nutshell, “You Don’t Know Don Draper.” Or, as an alternate title, “Dads Do the Darnedest Things!”

At Sterling Cooper, the Mad Boys file into an elevator and then enthusiastically greet Pete, back from his honeymoon in Niagara Falls. They immediately ask for details on the sex, and Pete pretends he’s a gentleman by saying, “We are talking about my wife here.” Pete gives a little spiel about how during the ceremony he felt like he became a new, calmer man and Harry retorts, “So, what you’re saying is, a lot of missionary?” As the Mad Boys get off the elevator and enter the office, everyone greets Pete and welcomes him back—aka, they act way more friendly than anyone should to Pete. He heads to his office and sees… a Chinaman! A whole China family and their chicken! Eating food with chopsticks and wearing funny hats! This is now the gold standard for which all other pranks will be judged. I mean, has Jim Halpert ever snuck a Chinaman into Dwight Shrute’s temporary workspace? Pete quickly shuts the door and everyone laughs as he says, “Who put the Chinaman in my office?” Aw, it’s nice (and kind of surprising) that he can take a joke.

Don arrives at work and goes right into a meeting with the Mad Boys. The product is laxatives, and they make a lot of “blocked” jokes that can’t even compare to the Chinaman jokes. Salvatore says they should be funny, like those “Volkswagon people.” Volkswagon is this week’s Reader’s Digest. Don hates both the ad and the car, but they agree it must be working. Slattery enters the office and tells them, “I want the Chinaman out of the building by lunch.” Don: “I’m still waiting on my shirts!” See? Way better than the constipation jokes.

Outside the office, Betty smiles and glows as Pete walks up to her desk. They talk a bit about the meeting Pete’s supposed to be in, and then he awkwardly brings up their little pre-wedding liaison. He reminds her he’s married, and she tells him she understands and “it never happened.” But she looks awfully disappointed, like she thought she would become his glamorous, Midge-style mistress. Aw, poor dumb Peggy.

In Don’s office, everyone’s still talking about the Volkswagon ad, although there’s a split opinion on whether it’s brilliant or stupid. Don smartly observes, “Love it or hate it, the fact remains we’ve been talking about it for the last fifteen minutes.” It seems that only Don recognizes that this one ad could bring about a new trend in advertising that’ll change the whole business. Anyway, Don adjourns the meeting when the Mad Boys admit they have no ideas for the laxative campaign. Everyone leaves but Pete, who tells Don he misses him (and is an enormous suck-up who is only happy when trying to claw his way into a superior’s favor). Don softens a little and asks how married life is. Pete makes like Opie and says, “It’s pretty swell. Trudie’s a lot funnier than I thought; I’m actually looking forward to going home tonight.” Pete proposes the two of them go out with their wives, and Don pulls out a little different version of the “never gonna happen” yes; this one is a little more aggressively dismissive than the one on the train.

Peggy and Joan head to the breakroom, where Joan gives Lady Chatterley’s Lover to one of the operator girls from whom she borrowed it. They giggle over their literary smut, and one of the women ask Peggy if she’s read it. Joan intervenes, saying, “I don’t think that’s a good idea… there’s [holds book open] this word in it a lot.” Damn, now I’m curious what word she’s referring to. Some of the tags on Amazon are “dead souls and dark alleys” and “magic carpet ride” (is that some kind of old-fashioned freaky sex thing?), and you can also search for similar books by the subjects “adultery” and “gamekeepers.” Joan goes on that the book is a testament to how “most people think that marriage is a joke.” The operator agrees, “It’s a fantasy. He’s married, she’s married… the desperate passion of the forbidden!” Gee, I wonder why Peggy wants to borrow it? Joan jokes about how the really good parts are so well-read that the book just falls open to those pages, and I am having the hugest flashbacks to sixth grade and passing around a copy of Judy Blume’s Forever. Geez, that book is filthy, but in such an unsexy, Judy Blume sort of way.

In the boardroom, Rachel Menken makes her triumphant return in a bright pink dress and awesome hat that’s kind of like a feathery pink disc on the crown of her head. She looks fierce. Don reintroduces Pete, Ken and Paul, plus a research man who’s not the German bitch we met in the first episode but a British guy. Do they only let the foreigners do research? The Brit presents his findings on some competing departments stores, but Rachel is more interested in eye fucking Don than listening (and c’mon, who wouldn’t?). Pete takes note of the silent flirting. The Brit goes on about creating a spacious feel, personal attention to the customer, minimal amount of merchandise on the floor. Rachel is impressed at the thoroughness of their research on other stores, but can tell that none of them know shit about Menken’s. All the Mad Boys lie poorly, and Don mans up and tells her, “I can assure you that no one at this table has been to your store, a wrong I will personally correct this afternoon.” Rachel, and everyone in the world, is impressed at his smoothness. She gets up and Pete volunteers to walk her out, but Don cuts in and says he’ll do it.

They walk through the halls as Rachel notes that it’s hard to get caught in a lie. Don tells her, “Well, it wasn’t a lie. It was… ineptitude with insufficient cover.” Rachel laughs in the patented, “Oh my god, you’re so funny, when are you going to rip my clothes off!?” way that girls do. But I do like the way they banter, it’s very charming in that screwball comedy sort of way. For instance, as they’re saying goodbye a chicken, left behind by the Chinaman, walks by and, off Rachel’s look, Don tells her, “new junior exec.”

Elsewhere in the office, Pete asks Harry what the deal was with Don and Rachel flirting. I want to know why she came all the way to their offices for a three minute meeting. It’s like how in tv shows set in high school, the bell will ring about 60 seconds after any scene set in a classroom, so the unattractive, old teacher can step aside and let James van der Beek take the spotlight. Anyway, Pete says, “Everyone always jokes about it, but I’ve never seen Draper turn that switch on.” That’s a good way to describe it—Don is definitely doesn’t have the charm turned on when dealing with his wife. Harry unwraps a lollipop during the conversation, explaining that he’s trying to quit smoking. Wholesome Harry may have just become my favorite character. He explains to Pete that even though he’s married, when he’s out in the world he does the “flirting, double entendres,” and Pete looks suspiciously interested when he asks, “You mean something on the side?” Harry corrects him: “No, I mean enjoying the company of women in the limited way a married man can.” No joke, Harry is classy. I’m hoping that he’ll become the moral center of the show and go around giving sage advice to everyone in the office. Harry says that doing that is plenty for him, and Pete agrees that he’s the same. Oh, you’ve figured this out after two weeks of marriage? Pete’s such a snot. He says that he figured Draper was the same way, and Harry says, “Draper? Who knows anything about that guy? No one’s lifted that rock. He could be Batman for all we know.” Hands down, this was the best line of the episode.

As a capper to the scene, Pete’s wife calls to ask what he wants for dinner. I’ll give him credit for telling her exactly what he wants (ribeye, with butter in the pan, with ice cream for dessert, in case you want to cook dinner for the Pete Campbell in your life). As someone who’s habitually indecisive, I approve of Pete’s ability to come up with a meal off the top of his head. He says he loves her, and after hanging up, marvels, “There’s going to be dinner waiting when I get home.” Studies have shown that the number 1 reason people get married is because they’re sick of cooking for themselves.

Don get out of a cab in front of Menken’s and meets Rachel in the lobby. He notices that she changed her outfit—the outrageous pink suit and feather hat have been replaced by a tan jacket and skirt and smooth, shiny hair. Boys, let me tell you, a really easy way to win points with a girl is to notice when she wears more than one outfit over the course of a day. It’s even better than noticing haircuts. As she leads Don into the building, telling him the history of the store, I see that underneath the boring suit she’s wearing a leopard print top. Hell yes. Anyway, Don notes that the store is crowded, but that probably is due to the sale. He explains that this means, “if we’re successful, you’re going to have to lose the customers you have in order to get the customers you want.” She’s ok with this, but says her father wasn’t happy with the idea of raising prices. I really hope that we get to meet Papa Menken at some point. Also, since the characters on this show are so obsessed with ethnic stereotypes, I think it’s really interesting that the one Jewish character is trying to embody “expensive,” not “cheap.”

Rachel takes Don over to a jewelry counter selling cufflinks. She noticed that one of his fell off during the earlier meeting, and so she picks out a new pair for him: tiny, silver medieval knights. She puts them on for him, and it’s slightly intimate and very hot. Next Rachel and Don go to the second floor, which I guess is the bedding department. There are multiple beds with teddy bears on top, plus a saleswoman asleep in a chair (since the room is deserted). Has anyone not had a fantasy about having sex in a department store? I just hope Rachel and Don wake the saleswoman up and make her leave first. Rachel says she’s always liked how quiet it is up there, but Don criticizes the dark, old-fashioned atmosphere that obviously isn’t drawing customers.

Back to Sterling Cooper, the Mad Boys and Girls are getting ready to leave for the day. A random secretary asks Pete, who’s walking out, if he wants to join the group who are going to someplace called “Lanski’s.” He tells her he has plans, starts to go, but then pauses before passing Peggy. He looks her up and down and tells her, “You look nice,” before walking off with a supremely self-satisfied look on his face. Oh, man, Pete is such an idiot. He is obviously thinking to himself, “Look at how good I am at being married! I can even give a compliment to the girl I screwed before the wedding, and it doesn’t mean anything because I’m a happily married man! How swell!” And Peggy’s thinking, “What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?” With three words, Pete mind-fucked Peggy harder than anyone’s ever been mind-fucked before. She’s going to spend the next 3 weeks replaying those words in her mind on a continuous loop, wondering what he meant and if he’s still interested and how she can get him to compliment her again. Pete thinks he just solved a problem, but he just made it so much worse. Pete is so, so dumb. Peggy watches Pete go looking like she’s going to explode.

At Menken’s, Rachel takes Don up to her favorite part of the store: the roof. He marvels at the view, but she only wants to see the security dogs, which are kept in cages outdoors. She greets the German Shepherds (I think that’s the breed—if I’m wrong then I’m blaming it on the poor lighting) and sticks her face right up to the cage. Don’s like, “If she starts kissing the dog there’s no way we’re making out.” Rachel introduces the dogs as Fortinbras and Pemberley—oh, no, those are my imaginary German Shepherds. Rachel’s are Carla and Leona, “the third-generation, and ‘what every generation of Menken dogs shall be named until the end of time.’ I made my father’s legal counsel add that to the store’s bylaws when I was nine.” Don teases her, “so even then you enjoyed telling men what to do.” She defends herself by launching into tonight’s performance of Bad Dad Theater: “To be fair the store was practically home. My father liked to work. I used to come out here and talk to them, well, the originals, every night. For a little girl, a dog can be all you need. They protect you, they listen.” She explains that her mom died while giving birth to her, and her older sister was poorer company than the dogs. You know, I’m a huge dog lover, but it’s never a good sign when a person substitutes the love of a dog for the company of other humans. Don sees her emotional vulnerability (and is that a glimmer of crazy eyes I see on her?) and asks, “What is this? Don’t try to convince me that you were ever unloved.” Shit, that’s a really good line—the authoritative tone, the subtext that she’s so incredible that those around her can’t help but adore her. Smooth, Draper, very smooth.

He touches her chin and goes in for the kiss—another big fantasy is definitely making out on the roof of a Manhattan building, although preferably not while a bunch of German Shepherds are watching. When they break, Rachel breathily tells him, “I don’t know what to say.” Don is obviously feeling a little guilty at doing the seduction thing that comes so naturally to him, and fesses up that he’s married. He moves back a little as he says, “It shouldn’t have happened,” and Rachel bitterly says, “But you couldn’t help yourself.” Don tries to keep the romance going, and says, “I knew what I wanted since the first time you stormed out of my office.” “YOU stormed out of your office,” she says, obviously not having it. Don’s motives are debatable, but I think he’d be willing to take Rachel as his second mistress, or maybe use Rachel to replace Psycho Midge. Rachel’s not interested, though, and says that she would rather not have to explain this, so some other employee at Sterling Cooper should be put in charge of her account. He looks at her, either disappointed at not being able to see her anymore or by losing her business, or both. She says, “Don’t look at me like that. What do you do, just kiss women all the time, women you aren’t married to?” Uh, yeah, pretty much. He tells her, “Of course not,” and she says, “So what am I supposed to do, just live some life running alongside yours?” He doesn’t reply, and Rachel lamely excuses herself by saying she has some checks to sign. If this were a French farce instead of a classy period drama, Rachel would then release the guard dogs, find someway to steal Don’s clothes, and then lock him on the roof.

Don is on the train again, heading home. He looks exhausted and defeated as he finds a seat and closes his eyes. The conductor comes up and hands him a newspaper he says Don dropped. Don looks a little confused but take it and… scene? If this were a German spy thriller there’d be some sort of secret mission hidden in the paper and Don would have to assassinate someone while wearing a trench coat.

The next day, Betty is walking around her and Don’s bedroom with curlers in her hair. I’m hoping for a close-up so I can figure out how to make my hair as fabulously Grace Kelly-esque as hers. Don’s asleep in bed as his daughter, Sally, runs in, yelling, “Daddy, daddy wake up! It’s my birthday!” He cutely grabs her and Don and Betty establish that today is their daughter’s birthday party, and Don has to put together a playhouse beforehand. Betty appears to be making the bed, despite Don still being under the covers, and as she walks out she tells him there’s a bacon and egg sandwich waiting for ham sandwich in the kitchen. Sometimes I wish Betty as my wife; I’d appreciate her a lot more than Don does. As to prove my point, Don looks unappreciative and glances at the medieval knight cufflinks on his nightstand.

Next, Don is in the backyard, dressed all in brown like the UPS man, trying to figure out how to put together the playhouse. There’s a little montage of him struggling to build the house and drinking multiple beers. It’s a little weird to see him not wearing a suit and drinking whiskey. The kids run outside to marvel at their new fake house, and Don sends his daughter to get him yet another beer.

Inside, Betty is making appetizers with her pregnant friend, Francine. They go over who’s coming to the party: Francine and her husband Carlton, the Darlings, Helen Bishop, the scandalous divorcee. Francine is shocked at Betty invited her, and asks, “Have you seen her walking up there on Tree Ridge? Where the hell is she walking to?” Betty doesn’t know, but she can share the information that Helen Bishop’s son is 9 and her daughter is 2. The women walk over to the window to see Don, in his undershirt, screwing part of the playhouse in. Francine practically drools as she says, “That man…” Betty, and the rest of the world (I realize I’ve made similar comments like twice already in this recap alone, but he’s Don Draper, I can’t resist), agrees.

Don gets what is at least his fourth beer, and then we cut to the bathroom. Thank you, Mad Men producers, for spending valuable air time showing Don Draper pulling up his zipper, flushing the toilet, and then washing his hands. He faces that eternal fancy bathroom conundrum of, Do you use the shell-shaped soap and guest towels and then mess them up? Smartly, Don wipes his hands on his shirt. Out in the kitchen, he reassures Betty that the powder room will “look untouched,” and she tells him to go take a shower before the guests arrive. Francine asks, “Want company?” and to Betty’s credit she doesn’t slap her friend for propositioning her husband, and to Don’s credit he doesn’t look horrified at being propositioned by his wife’s pregnant friend, who is wearing a muumuu. They all just laugh like the perfectly polite people they are.

Party time! Betty pours a good half bottle of Jack Daniels into the punch, so we all know why her parties are so popular. The adults stand around the dining room drinking, and the kids run around playing. There’s one kid, who I’m going to refer to as Tiny Tim whenever possible, who’s wearing braces on his legs and using crutches. I assume he has polo, but I’m not really an expert on old-fashioned diseases. Betty tells her guests that she didn’t manage to get a clown for the party, and the adults groans in disappointment. Geez, the 60’s really were like an alternate universe. One of the husbands, Henry, ask Don about a commercial they saw, and want to know if he was behind it. He wasn’t, and doesn’t look very interested in discussing advertising in his off time. Another man, Chet, tells a joke despite his wife’s protests: “Your wife and your lawyer are drowning. You have a choice to make: you go to lunch or a movie?” Yeah, really classy to say that in front of your spouse, dude. Don grimaces while everyone else laughs, then walks out of the room into the hallway. Francine’s husband, Carlton, follows him and asks about things on “Mad Ave,” observing that Don’s obviously making enough money and “we got it all, huh?” Don looks like he’s going to slit his wrists as he agrees, “Yep, this is it!” I love this show but these people’s lives are so, so depressing.

The wives are smoking in the kitchen, discussing Tiny Tim. Tiny Tim’s mother, Marilynn, says that it’s been hard on Jack, her husband, since he’s obsessed with sports. Betty tells her that Tiny Tim gets around very well, and Francine says, “I bet he doesn’t even know the difference!” Uh, he has polio, he’s not retarded. Tiny Tim’s mom corrects her testily that, “He does. He’s very determined.” They talk about the vaccine a little, and how Tiny Tim is lucky that his lungs were effected. The polio vaccine was licensed in 1962, so I guess that it was too late to prevent Tiny Tim from becoming, you know, Tiny Tim. The wives start to rag on their husbands’ lack of athletic ability that will be passed down to their sons, polio or no polio, when the doorbell rings.

Betty goes to answer it, and finds Helen Bishop, the divorcee. Helen is obviously nervous, and she’s wearing pants so we know she’s either a feminist or a ho, possibly both. Helen hands Betty the birthday present, and apologizes for the Christmas wrapping paper since they haven’t finished unpacking. Betty looks kind of horrified at this faux pas, but then pretends it’s fine by saying, “It should be Christmas all year, as far as I’m concerned!” She leads Helen into the living room, where Don is adjusting the radio dial, changing it from a news report on tax evasion to a performance of “The Marriage of Figaro.” Since that’s the name of this episode, I think some research is in order. It’s Mozart, a satire of the aristocracy, and takes place in a single day. There’s a Count, married to the countess, who’s in love with the girl who’s engaged to be married to his valet, and finally, according to Wikipedia, “a comic series of cases of mistaken identity results in the Count's humiliation and then forgiveness by the Countess.” Well, obviously Don, the Count of this show, is exploring infidelity, but I’m going to have to work on finding the deeper parallel between the opera and the episode.

Betty introduces Helen and her son Glen, who looks kind of like Eddie Munster—he’s one of those kids who’s naturally creepy and off-putting. Betty also reminds Don he has to go pick up the birthday cake, which seems like something he could have done before the party started but didn’t for dramatic reasons. All the men leer at Helen, mentally calculating the odds on getting into her very stylish red pants. When I first tried to recap this episode I had the hardest time figuring out everyone’s names, and as I watch this scene I realize it’s because when Betty says Carlton’s name Chet raises his glass, when she says Jack’s name Chet raises his glass, and Carlton doesn’t make any move at all. Plus, Henry (who asked Don about the commercial) and his wife seem to have disappeared and will be seen again only when it’s time for birthday cake (a party strategy that I totally support, actually).

A few minutes later, Betty catches Don in the hallway and asks him to take some movies. He asks, “Of everyone, or just Chief Tiny Tim?” Ladies and gentleman, the second best line of the episode!”

The husbands watch as Betty introduces Helen to the Marilynn, Nancy and Francine (do we even learn invisible Henry and his invisible wife’s name?) Carlton notes that Helen seems “scared, poor thing,” and Jack says, “Trust me, those hens are going to peck her to death.” They talk about her Volkswagon car, and Chet adds, “That won’t help her. It’s got no backseat; she’ll have to find some midget hitchhiker.” You know, I’d say that after you’ve had two kids it’s time to find some other place to have sex than the backseat of your car. Especially if you have a Volkswagon.

In the kitchen the wives are discussing Marilynn’s plans to go to Boca Raton with her family for Easter break, despite the giant mosquitos. Francine adds, “Believe me, those aren’t be the only giant noses you’re going to have to deal with.” Yes, casual prejudice! I had been feeling the lack of racial prejudice since the Chinaman left the office(I don’t think anyone made fun of Jewish Rachel Menken!), so thanks to Francine for helping this episode reach the necessary quota. She says that her and Carlton went to Boca Raton on their honeymoon, and, in an effort to include Helen, Betty asks her where she went. Awkward! Betty immediately apologizes for bringing up the ex-husband, but Helen gamely says she went to Paris, and she wouldn’t “give it back, even being with Glen’s father.” Nancy asks, “Was that your ex-husband?”, implying that Helen had Glen with a man other than the one she was married too. Sometimes I forget what stone-cold bitches women can be; this show is practically worse than Gossip Girl. Betty tries to bring the conversation into neutral territory by describing the trip she took to Italy the summer after graduating from Bryn Mawr, but Francine isn’t ready to retract her claws. To Helen she says, “You must have loved Paris. It’s all walking.” I’ve never heard the word “walking” used in such a pejorative way. Well, except following “street.” Helen doesn’t get it, and Francine says she’s seen Helen “walking” around the neighborhood, and Helen explains that she isn’t going anywhere, she just likes to walk, that it relaxes her and clears her mind. The women have already decided Helen is a streetwalker, and not even the mention of Einstein’s fondness of walking can change their minds.

Elsewhere in the house, Tiny Tim and the rest of the kids are running around and Don is recording it on his camcorder. The real action is intercut with the movie footage—grainy, washed-out, with classical music instead of laughter and footsteps. We get a nice long shot of Tiny Tim crutching his way across the room. Is there anyway I can get that clip and turn it into my screensaver? Don and his camcorder catch Helen entering the room, shielding her face with her hands in that annoying way self-conscious girls do. Don teases her, “What are you, Frank Sinatra?” Carlton offers to take her to find creepy Glen, the lost Munster child, and Don turns his camera on the other husbands. In the background is some opera music, and I’m going to take a wild guess and say we’re hearing The Marriage of Figaro.

In the hall Chet stops Helen and subtly positions himself as her next lover by offering to come throw around the ball with Glen, take him to the beach. Helen isn’t stupid though, and goes through Chet’s whole fantasy scenario of her being so grateful for his good deeds that she invites him into the house and… Chet knows he’s been figured out, and tells her, “Listen, I don’t want you telling Francine that I suggested something that I didn’t.” Helen isn’t scared and says she’s sorry if she misunderstood. At the end of the hall, Don notices the pair and starts recording them (but presumably can’t understand the conversation). Don is such a creeper, wandering around the house with his camera, but it shows how he feels like a voyeur and an outsider in his own life. The point is driven home as he catches Henry and his wife in the empty dining room—I was wrong about them not reappearing until cake. I guess while everyone else has been talking and getting to know each other, these two have been cannodling. As they kiss tenderly, Don finally realizes what a creeper he’s being and stops filming. Jon Hamm is such a good actor-- Don looks a little surprised, jealous, and uncomfortable at seeing a married couple who actually seem to like and have affection for each other.

In the next scene Don is outside, drinking and watching the kids play house. In the background you can hear them say, “You dented the car!” “I like sleeping on the couch,” and “I don’t like your tone.” And the cycle of dysfunctional marriages continues into the next generation! Helen steps outside and joins Don. “Interesting crowd in there,” she observes. “Same crowd out here,” Don says, looking pretty well into the “drunk and feeling sorry for yourself” stage.

In the kitchen the wives are discussing Helen: how she swings her hips as she walks, how Glen is too quiet and wears wrinkly clothes, and that shameful Christmas wrapping paper. Betty proves to be a little sweeter than her friends as she says, “She works. Must be hard to have a job and run a house too.” Apparently Helen works at a counter in a jewelry store. The bitchfest is interrupted by Glen, wanting to know where his mom is. I swear, this kid has fangs! Betty tells him to check the dining room, but Marilynn sees what’s happening outside. She calls Betty over to see Don and Helen talking outside. Betty’s like, “Ring the alarm! I’ve been doing this too long! But I’ll be damned if I see another chick on your arm!” She goes outside to break up the party of 2 by making Don finally go get the cake.

Back in the house, two kids (unfortunately, Tiny Tim is elsewhere) run through the house and knock over something on the end table. Jack, walking by, grabs the boy and slaps him in the face. Gasp! Carlton, the boy’s dad, comes over to see what happened. Carlton tells his kid to apologize to Jack, and when the kid doesn’t respond asks, “Do you want some more [slapping, I presume]?” Jack tells him that isn’t necessary and the kid runs off. If this happened today, there’d be cops on the front lawn within five minutes taking witness reports and discussing whether to file child abuse charges. Slapping someone else’s kid is the like the most Not Done thing of all the things that are Not Done.

Don is driving around with the cake in the passenger seat. Geez, Don, at least put a seatbelt around the cake before it goes flying onto the floor! He slows down as he nears his house (made very recognizable by the red door), but then speeds up and keeps going. He’s not even gonna stop for a drink refill? An hour later, in the kitchen, Betty wonders if Don got an accident. Chet comes in and tells Nancy that they’re leaving, since “there’s not going to be a cake. Am I the only one who knows that? Don Draper, you are a first class heel and I salute you. Let’s go.” No points for tact but plenty for brutal honesty. Nancy and Chet take off, and Helen offers the Sara Lee cake she has in her freezer. Francine instantly cuts the bitchiness and asks her to go get it. Aw, Helen saves the day!

We cut to a tiny, misshapen cake in a tin wrapper with “Sally” written in whipped cream and a candle stuck in the middle. But Sally, the birthday girl doesn’t know the difference. And there are Henry and his wife, for anyone who’s hoping they get their own spin-off called Mad Party Guests.

It’s night, and Don is napping in his car. He rouses himself to light a cigarette, and we see he’s parked under a bridge or overpass, watching the trains go by. He looks like he’s giving serious consideration to lying down on the tracks.

Back at home, Betty manages to wash the dishes and smoke at the same time. Is there nothing these people can’t do with a cigarette in hand? I can’t to see Francine give birth while smoking, and maybe the doctor can be smoking too. Betty struggles with the rubber gloves she’s wearing, so it looks like therapy hasn’t cured her numb hand disorder yet. She hears Don’s car pull up and Sally yell, “Daddy!” Ah, the joys of being too young to realize you have a bad dad. Don’s sitting on the floor, with Sally and Bobby climbing all over him, and Sally says, “Mommy, look! Daddy got me a doggie!” And there’s a very cute golden retriever next to them! But it’s fully grown, so points off for not bringing home a puppy. Not only would a puppy bring the maximum amount of cuteness to the table, but Betty would also have even more reasons to be pissed since she’d have to potty train it. Betty tells Don, “I don’t even know what to say,” and oblivious Sally decides to name the dog Polly and throws her arms around it. A Rachel Menken in the making, this one is. Betty walks away, and Don, about five minutes from drunkenly passing out, pulls Sally off the dog, tells her happy birthday, and gives her a big kiss on the forehead. Sally wipes off her forehead and goes right back to hugging the dog.