Original subtitles

You're destined for success.

You've tested off the charts.

People love you.

But more importantly, they need you.

Why?

Because you posses a series of unique attributes.

Thanks.

I do still feel like I'm on a journey, though,

- of self-discovery. - Shh.

- Talking to the lozenge. - Oh. The lozenge.

Knock, knock.

Terrence, how's the new gig in customer service?

Press 1 for awesome.

Beep.

Press 2 for billing.

Fun fact... 2 is actually the button for billing...

- Okay, out, Terrence. - Oh, absolutely.

Oh! I almost forgot.

Our boss/my dad-in-law asked me to deliver this.

Is that what I think it is?

Sam's inviting me to the Santa Barbara house?

Affirmative.

Yes!

Ye... ye...

Sam only invites executives that he's eyeing for promotion

up to his weekend estate to hobnob.

Whoa. Hobnob.

No. Promotion.

That's the exciting word, Charlie.

Eliza. Eliza.

Good morning, Henry! How are you?!

I'll tell you how I'm not... hearing impaired.

- You're shouting. - Oh.

Sorry, I was just doing Kegels to riff raff.

All right, well, I wanted to let you know...

Are you still doing them?

Don't. Please stop doing them.

I need to cancel our work session on Friday.

Ooh. Hot date?

No, but I'm hopeful that's on the horizon.

Still waiting on this girl

I'm getting fixed up with to return my text.

- She didn't return your text? - No, but I'm sure she will eventually.

Whoa-ho, a text is not something you return eventually.

Watch this. Hi.

See? Freddy texted me right back.

Okay, well, I'm not concerned with texting at this precise moment.

See? Two more seconds, and Freddy's already pissed I didn't reply.

I get it. I get it.

- Something momentous has happened. - What?

I have been invited

to Sam Saperstein's ranch in Santa Barbara.

Is that... is that a big deal, or... Look!

- Where did you get that? - Terrence.

Oh, that must be some kind of mistake.

This can't be right? Why?

Because usually, these retreats are Sam's way

of vetting upper-level executives

who are... you know, being eyed.

Um... I'm always being eyed.

In fact, I would argue there is no one in this company who gets eyed more.

For example, when I exit a room, it is impossible not to look.

First of all, that's not what I meant by being eyed.

Try not to look.

- Eliza. - Just try.

Oh, my God.

Not looking.

Still not looking.

Hold up, hold up.

Hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up.

Nobody says "hold up" that many times when exiting a room.

P-please stop! You're gonna hurt yourself.

Fine.

Fine.

Looked! Ha ha!

All right, this is exactly what I'm talking about, Eliza.

You don't exactly exude professionalism,

- so it's hard for me to imagine... - What?

That Saperstein would take note of my unrivaled status

as this company's top-performing sales rep?

Seriously? Because I'm not a dude in a suit,

you can't imagine that he would reward my flawless track record

by making me, say, the director of sales?

This is not about you not being a dude in a suit.

Furthermore, my job is harder than yours.

I deal with doctors. You sell to the general public,

who will buy anything you put in front of them

if they think it'll help their sticky, snot-covered kids.

- Did you just say "furthermore"? - Indeed. Henceforth, ergo...

I should be promoted.

- LLC. - Maybe you're right.

But?

But...

I think it's more likely that you're my plus one.

- Plus one? - Yes, I'm sorry, but...

I'm nobody's plus one.

- I'm V.I.P., bitches. - "Bitches"? It's just me. One bitch.

Was I plus one at Adam Levine's Halloween party?

At Avril Lavigne's Christmas party?

At Sherri Shepherd's purse party?

At the grand reopening of the south Pasadena Victoria Secret,

which I didn't go to, but to which I was invited,

and had I gone, I would have received a free thong?

Was I plus one at Target's

preferred shoppers black Friday pre-sale? Hmm?

Was I plus one at Jennifer Meyer's irregular trunk sale?

Was I a plus one at Scott Disick's interven...

Fine, Eliza, fine.

The point is, I receive plus ones. I do not be them.

Fine, I clearly touched a nerve. I take it back.

I'm sorry. You were invited here on your own merit.

And you discriminate against hot redheads.

And I, of course, discriminate against hot redheads.

And Eliza is not and never will be a...

Plus one.

There they are!

The man of the hour.

Plus one.

Look. Look at it this way.

He may see you as my plus one now,

but by the time the weekend is over, you could very well be

on the other side of Sam's velvet rope.

Please stop trying to relate to me by using nightclub jargon.

You're seriously just making it worse.

- And I want to go home. - No, you can't.

He thinks you're my plus one, and if you leave,

I'll be negative one, and I really don't want to start

my big promotion weekend off on a sour note.

Here we go.

Compliments of rancho de Saperstein.

We've got monogrammed bath soaps, natural honeycomb sea sponge...

Uh, gold-dusted organic Peruvian cacao nibs,

and, of course,

janimals, janimals wearable stuffed animals.

I'm the unicorn. I got the unicorn.

Ah!

Here's our itinerary.

Please make us aware of any dietary restrictions

or if you'd care to schedule any services.

What kind of services.

Oh, got hot rock rolfing, Finnish fig facial,

aromatic mammogram, laser hair replacement,

Japanese wagu beef-style massage...

In that moment, I realized how much Henry needed me,

so I decided to do something selfless.

I want this one, this one,

this one, this, this, this, and this one.

- Uh, you just pointed at all of them. - Better make it two of this one.

Thanks, T.

Okay.

You'll occupy the east wing,

which overlooks Oprah's vineyard next door.

Sir, your home is exquisite.

A gorgeous Spanish colonial built in 1923,

and yet she doesn't look a day over timeless.

Hey. What's your wi-fi network?

I'm only seeing one here called, uh, "not Gayle's network."

Gayle's not the only one not using a network.

Here at rancho de Saperstein, there is no network.

No signal.

We have nothing...

... But each other.

- Oh. - I think you'll find that's all we need.

It'll be okay.

It'll be okay.

Henry, you'll occupy the split bamboo suite,

named after my wife's favorite "kama sutra" position.

Enter.

Hey.

Can I borrow the shoe polish from your welcome kit?

Mine is empty and I only got through one boot.

- Look. The light barely dances. - Oh! It's over there.

- Thanks. - Should I get Belgian blueberry waffles

or three sides of bacon tomorrow upon waking?

Neither.

You should come down to the table and have breakfast with our hosts.

It's not for eating.

I just want the room to smell like waffles when I wake up.

Or bacon. No, no, waffles.

No, bacon.

I assume you've taken a moment to review the weekend schedule,

and I don't need to impress upon you further

that punctuality at each event is imperative.

Waffles and bacon!

Huh?

I suspect there'll be some opportunity for small talk at breakfast tomorrow.

I'll thank you to leave that to me.

- Thank you. - This is so frustrating.

God.

There's a caviar omelette on here,

and I can't even tweet it till Monday.

It's like, "ugh."

Over the juice course, I'll casually share my vision

for the future of our company.

During melon, I'll segue into where

I see our company going 5, 10 years down the road.

Come afternoon, I'll wax nostalgic

about my humble beginnings as a junior executive,

merrily sharing an anecdote

that's both self-aggrandizing and self-deprecating.

Oh, my God, I'm gonna hang myself by the janimals if you don't stop talking.

Come dusk on the horse trail,

having already shared, waxed, and segued,

I'll complete the metaphor of taming a steed...

If being vetted for a promotion means you have to act like Henry,

I was kind of glad I was off the hook.

He was driving both of us crazy and missing out on loads of swag amenities,

like slipper chocolate.

The next morning, I slept in while Henry

bored the crap out of everyone over scones.

Raj, Linda, Charmonique, and Joan will be replaced by drones, and relocated

to a newly-formed sister facility in Albuquerque,

who I understand is offering some exciting incentives

pertaining to corporate tax rates.

And you know... you know what they say about corporate tax rates.

Hold up! The bigger the tax...

Hold up! Hold up! There she is.

Hold up! Hold up! Eliza! Morning.

Oh, thank God.

Sorry I'm late, but that bed was literally like

sleeping on an angel's breast implants.

Ohh. I don't think angels augment their breasts.

Sleeping in is not an uncommon occurrence

here at rancho de Saperstein.

It's the mattresses.

Ohh. They're stuffed with hand-curled koala fleece,

which leads to a superior night's rest.

I don't know much about koalas,

but I do know that horses are the ninth smartest animal.

Shall we hit the stables?

Huh? What can I say? I am hot to trot.

Good to gallop. Cool to canter. Down to dressage.

My! Someone really has researched their horse words.

Eliza, should we wait for you to get changed?

Mnh-mnh. No way.

I'm not into horses. They smell like hobos.

All I want to do is lay on a towel,

drink out of a pineapple, and find out what the quack

went wrong in Nick and Mariah's marriage

and why the custody arrangement is for dembabies.

That sounds... like paradise.

I'll strap on the speedo, and we'll meet at the pool.

Mm, great.

Uh, what about the horses? What about the riding?

If I know anything about horses, Henry, they'll wait.

- Aren't you gonna change? - Into what? I didn't bring swim gear.

Why? Because swimming was not on the itinerary.

Well, the itinerary changed.

You have to be able to go with the flow, Henry.

And you have to stop trying to control the flow.

It's not my fault everyone always wants to do what I do.

It's like when I got bangs and then Michelle Obama got bangs.

And when I said, "kids are so fat,"

and then she jumped on the whole childhood obesity bandwagon.

And then when I started wearing lots of sleeveless stuff,

who suddenly had their arms showing all the time?

The first lady of nonstop riding my jock.

Well, if you don't mind,

now that everyone's had their fun copying you by the pool,

I'd like to reintroduce the idea of horseback riding...

- Yay... - Which I spent three years

and over $16,000 learning how to do.

All I ask is that you don't do anything to derail it.

You have my word.

And while you guys are riding, I'm gonna sneak off

and see if I can catch an Oprah sighting.

I'd totally go Oprah watching.

Oh, yeah, me, too. Totally. Oprah watching? Oh!

If we leave before dark, we can hike up to the lake.

Wonderful! I'll slip into my ambling kilt.

No! My strolling culottes. Let's go.

Want me to tell Oprah you say hey?

Louis.

I'm gonna need a pineapple to go.

Do you want a pineapple?

- Pineapple? - Yeah.

Make it two.

I was trying to get Henry to relax, but it wasn't easy.

He was crushing his chance of promotion,

and not in the urban dictionary sense.

Into a top-selling furniture sealant.

Shh! Ooh.

Stop talking, Henry. Stop... Stop talking.

Do you hear that?

The frantic mating song of the yellow-throated warbler.

Ahh.

I know I'm horny.

Seriously, though, have you ever heard a sound so sweet?

- Henry, you got to relax. - I can't relax.

He cut me off before I could deprecate. I still need to deprecate.

Eliza, wait till you see what's just up ahead!

- Oh, my God, I can't wait. - I'm bombing. I'm tanking.

I can feel the promotion slipping through my fingers.

- I can feel it. - You're overthinking it.

Don't overthink it. Just try to have fun.

I'm not having fun.

Can you maybe try to, like, look like you're having fun?

Are you having a nosebleed?

- What? - Hurry up, slowpokes!

Do something fun.

Before the day's over, do one fun thing, okay?

Just so Saperstein knows you're capable.

Good idea. Okay.

Got it.

Reunited with her one true love.

When I was voted "milf of the moment"

by Montecito quarterly, we shot my cover photo right here.

Now, tell why. Don't be modest.

I saved this lake.

Mom chaired the conservancy group that had it declared a freshwater preserve.

It's been off-limits to development or any form of recreation.

In fact, it's been untouched by human beings...

Cannonball!

Oh! No!

Whoo!

Get in here! Come on. Oh, my God.

Why is everyone crying?

- It's over. - Eh.

It's not a big deal.

I mean, I can't check, but it bet it's not even trending,

so, you know, the only people who know about you

jumping into a forbidden lake are your boss, his family,

the Montecito branch of the epa, and maybe, like, stedman.

My chances for a promotion are dead,

just like the fragile ecosystem of that lake.

I'm s...

Oh, my God, uh, Henry, don't freak out, but, uh, you have a... a leech on your...

Yes, I do have a leech,

a leech that's been sucking the life out of me

all weekend, and her name is Eliza Dooley.

I'm a leech?

You practically begged me to stay here, so...

Well, that was my mistake.

And it was my mistake for listening to you.

You ruined my weekend!

God, in all honesty,

I think I preferred you when you were on your phone.

Fine.

Oh, my God, I have a leech on my neck.

I know. That's what I said.

I was trying to help you!

I've been trying to help.

Aah!

Ugh. Gah.

- What's the rule again? If it's cold... - Wait.

- And if it's hot? - Not.

And if it's yellow, let it mellow?

Terrence.

I'm sorry I'm late.

Sorry I'm late.

And I'm never late.

As a matter of fact, I'm usually early.

Punctuality, sir, is an attribute I pride myself on.

Where's your better half?

Eliza? She's gone, sir.

I believe she's gone.

I fouled it up, just like I fouled up everything else this weekend.

I had a plan.

Some might call it a perfect, flawless plan,

one that took the better part of three years

and $16,000 to put into action.

But things don't always go according to plan.

And when they don't, I tend to unravel.

I guess what I'm trying to say is...

I'm so sorry this weekend was such a disaster, sir.

Brava, Henry. Brava.

Methinks this weekend was the opposite of a disaster.

Methinks this weekend has been an unbridled success.

And can I tell you something, honestly, son?

I have always wanted to splash about in that lake.

- Sam. - Come on, Yazmin. This is a safe space.

Henry, all I wanted was a chance to see this side of you,

not the pre-packaged Henry product,

perfectly formulated for success,

but the flawed, beautiful,

lake-jumping mess that lives inside of us all.

That's why in invited Eliza, quite frankly.

You know, I, uh, can't help but notice you're a lot more lifelike around her.

- I am, aren't it? - I mean, look at you.

I mean, you're late for dinner,

your shirt's untucked, you cut yourself shaving.

- Oh, that's from the leeches, sir. - From the leeches.

You see what I mean?

You probably had more fun this weekend than you have all year.

She's the perfect plus one.

Actually, sir, she's more than a plus one.

She's V.I.P.

Eliza!

Eliza!

How could there be no bars?

It's like we're in the middle '80s.

Okay.

I'm still super mad,

but you just rode the crap out of that horse.

Eliza, I'm sorry.

I wasn't listening to you.

You weren't hurting me this weekend. You were helping me.

Let me guess.

- You got the promotion? - I did.

I did. I got the promotion.

As Oprah would say, "ye-e-e-s."

"Ye-e-e-s."

But that exclamation aside,

I don't want you to think that I value my job

more than I value... our friendship.

Because I swear it's a tie.

A tie?

Yes. A tie.

There is now way that you came galloping out here

on that majestic horse, bathed in moonlight,

to tell me it's a tie.

I took the least-majestic horse, I swear.

In the stable, this thing looked like a donkey.

You worship me.

- Admit it. - I do not worship... no.

Just admit it. You worship me. It's okay.

No, I-I have grown accustomed to your face.

Thank you.

That horse is chewing really loudly.

Yes, he is.

Looks like you found your signal.

Yeah. I guess I did.

Ah. Got a text from Charlie.

Freddy just sent me nudes.

Hey, you.

Oh, very romantic.

Oh, are you jealous?

- Should I be? - No.

And it got zero "likes," so I'm deleting it.

Good. Yeah.

Geronimo!

Whoo-hoo-hoo!

Whoo-hoo!

Yes!

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