There's an old saying that's been passed down from generation to generation in the secretarial pool, from wizened, office-terrorizing battleax to doe-eyed steno girl: "One day you're sitting on the top of the world, and the next day you're having your guts ripped out by a secretary brandishing a chainsaw." Hmm...no, that's not quite how it goes. But we're sure it'll come to us! In the meantime, your Mad Men Power Rankings for Week Six, after the jump:
1. Don Draper (even) Last week: 1
The British are coming, the British are coming! Is Don Draper afraid? No, of course not! (OK, perhaps a little.) In the face of such a threat, we expect Don to coolly put on his tri-corner hat, grab a musket, and crouch behind the copier, waiting for the right moment to get the drop on one of the red-coated, penny-pinching invaders from across the pond. (Or, if things got a little too hairy, to wait until Pete Campbell was shot in the back while in full retreat, steal his uniform, and embark on a new life as a smug weasel in a different part of Manhattan. Whatever made sense in the moment.) Alas, even with the unexpected corporate restructuring spearheaded by Accounts prodigy Guy "We'll Forgive The On-The-Nose Name Because He's Soon To Be The Greatest One-Off Character in the History of Basic Cable Dramas" McKendrick, Don did not find himself, as Bert Cooper speculated, handed an advertising fiefdom that spanned two continents and an ocean, with a company-provided row house in London and an entire fading empire's service industry waiting to be sexually conquered. Instead, the Brits arrived, rudely shat upon the notion of American independence, and left Don to wonder about a future on the wrong end of a gently downward-sloping line beneath McKendrick's name on the corporate flow chart.
But then! Litch'erally right at that moment, a phone call! From Connie "Remember the Guy From A Couple Weeks Back Who Wasn't Actually a Bartender, And It Was A Little Confusing, But Then The Internet Told You That Guy Was Actually Historical Rich Person Connie Hilton" Hilton! Connie wanted a freebie from Don, and Don, as an advertising professional -- nay, as the advertising professional -- blanched at the idea of offering Connie a free sneer at his terrible mouse-related campaign. But Don, realizing there was a chance to land the whale of the Hilton account and further impress the British conquerors, acquiesced, telling Connie he'd like a shot at his business. Think bigger, dummy! encouraged Connie. Then, classic Don, perfect Don, snake-metaphors-were-important-this-week Don: "There are snakes that go months without eating and then they finally catch something. But they're so hungry they suffocate while they're eating. One opportunity at a time." Don Draper is never one to choke while he's got his partially unhinged jaw wrapped around a fat guinea pig. (Snake metaphors were important this week.)
Don Draper Fingerbang Threat Level: Medium
It was almost as if Don were consciously holstering his deadly, conflicted-pleasure-giving fingertips, knowing that a week down the line, he'd likely need them well-rested to administer a proper, grim digital penetration, should Miss Farrell suddenly return to collect on the boozy IOU she issued him over the phone, or should a comely realtor on his presumed house-hunting trip in Notting Hill need to learn a hard lesson about negotiating Draper-style. And so the Threat Level quiets from last week's screaming "Penetration Imminent!", all-banging-fingers-on-deck siren, to a mere "Medium" this time. Though there seemed to be the possibility that an offended Don might hoist the presumptuous Connie onto the desk in his Presidential Suite and give him a taste of what he'd do to every last front-desk clerk, linen-proferring maid, and high-end, lounge-dwelling prostitute in the entire Hilton chain should he dare to ask for free work again, the real danger was -- briefly, tantalizingly -- to Sterling Cooper's most beloved female employee. As Don and Joan sat in the hospital, awaiting word on the status of Guy McKendrick's foot, they shared a moment. And maybe that moment was one of genuine mutual regard, heightened by Joan's imminent departure from the office. But maybe that moment was one where two ticking sex-bombs sat next to each other in that waiting room, ready to be detonated by the hand Don casually draped over the seat back between them (right in the middle of the frame!). Maybe, maybe. But not in an episode where a guy's foot was sliced off by a drunk secretary on a f*cking lawnmower.
2. Roger Sterling (even) Last week: 2
What's that you say? How can Roger possibly hold his position at the number two slot in a week where he suffered the indignity of having his name left completely off Guy McKendrick's flow-chart, even though his name is right there on the f*cking wall? Because Roger, cornered, is going to come out swinging. "I'm rich, they can't hurt me," sniffed Roger, hurt. "I'm being punished for making my job look easy," boasted Roger, injured. But then here's what Roger did: By wiggling his foot during his manicure and off-handedly mentioning he's "thinking about my toes" right now, he placed a curse on McKendrick's now-doomed piggly-wigglys, even though the Brits had not yet arrived and Guy had not yet left him off that flow-chart. He sensed the threat to come and acted accordingly. That's true power. That's our Rog. (And also, he had a great line about polishing the Brits' knobs. So Roger!)
3. Sally Draper (up) Last week: 4
Sally rises again. She sees dead people. Well, Dead Grandpa, really. And he is everywhere. In haunted Barbies. Possessing baby Drapers who are his namesake. Does Sally feel residual guilt for causing Grandpa Gene's death, which came swiftly as he was retrieving peaches for his creepy, but cherished, granddaughter? That piercing shriek of hers...we'll hear it again. Probably when, early next season, Pete Campbell stays the night at the Draper residence under some professional pretense, hoping to finally kill Don, and Sally, also on her way to kill Don, encounters Pete in a dark hallway, flaying the weasel with the butcher knife she intended to use to fulfill her patricidal destiny. And then father and daughter will bond, finally, while burying Pete in the backyard.
4. (tie) Ken Cosgrove (up) Last week: unranked
4. (tie) Harry Crane (up) Last week: unranked
Congratulations are in order to two of Sterling Cooper's more underserviced characters! Great job, co-Head of Accounts Ken Cosgrove, for landing the "mastodon" John Deere account and introducing to the office the instrument of Guy McKendrick's grisly destruction. And a hearty slap on the back goes to Harry Crane, the only guy who got a promotion.
5. Betty (up) Last week: 6
"Oh, hey, Sally. Um, here, open this? It's a present from Baby Gene! You know, the brother you hate because you think he's possessed by your grandpa. It's a Barbie! Which is also probably possessed by Grandpa Gene, so if you throw it out the window onto the front lawn, it'll find its way back onto your dresser, mocking your fear. OK, great! My terrible parenting duties are done until next week, when I'll accidentally let you bring a BB gun to school to shoot that bruiser Becky Pierson in her ass, because I was too busy having a cigarette and looking sad to notice you were armed. Good night, honey, and don't mind the Barbie if she starts talking about all the Prussians she killed in the war."
6. Pete Campbell (down) Last week: 5
Ladies and gentlemen, Pete Campbell! "One more promotion and we're gonna be answering phones." Let's get Bitter Pete a dress, a desk outside Bertram Cooper's office, and a princess phone and make it happen!
7. Joan Holloway (even) Last week: 7
Oh, Joan. Poor, poor Joan. Tragic, tragic Joan. Not only is her poorly chosen husband a rapist, but he "has no brains in his fingers." His career died with those words from his mentor, and so did her hopes of living the care-free existence of a surgeon's wife. "You're still a doctor, right?" she asked, stunned, semi-supportively. "I married you for your heart, not your hands." Those hands with no finger-brains, no future. Sad, sad Joan. We only want the best for you, a life that's all red accordions and perfect dinner parties and low-plunging necklines. (OK, maybe that last part is what's best for us. But still, we feel for Joan. We really do.)
8. Stuffed Cobra In A Basket (up) Last week: unranked.
As Lane Pryce trepidatiously bent back the cardboard flaps on the box containing the "gift" his bosses from back in London had brought for him as a reward for his service in the States, we said a little prayer: Please, Lord, let it be Gwyneth Paltrow's head, and not a stuffed cobra in a basket. Anything but a stuffed cobra in a basket! Alas, it was a stuffed cobra in a basket, the Brits' cute way of informing Pryce he'd soon be enjoying a well-remunerated exile to Bombay. Thanks for all the hard work, good old boy! Don't let any cobras bite you on the ass on your way out the door!
Later, in the hospital, as footless replacement Guy McKendrick lay in a bed, his vital signs stable but his career flatlining, Lane shared a vulnerable moment with Don, realizing he'd just been granted a reprieve: "I feel like I just went to my own funeral, and I didn't like the eulogy." One gets the feeling Pryce won't be taking his good fortune for granted; that stuffed cobra in a basket on his windowsill won't let him.
9. Peggy Olson (down) Last week: 3
Sorry, Pegs. This was not your week. But we'd like to think that somehere off-camera, perhaps in your office, you snuck a toke, then ate all of Joan's cake while everyone was busy collecting severed toes and squeegying Guy McKendrick's blood off the windows.
10. John Deere 110 Lawn and Garden Tractor (up) Last week: unranked
With snow-thrower and transparent vinyl enclosure! And diamond-sharpened, metatarsal-severing blades! And optional dress-ruining blood-sprayer! And drunk-secretary-proof auto-pilot, ensuring that even the most crapulent office typist can't stop the 110 from carrying out its divine, amputational mission. A real feather in Ken Cosgrove's cap, we say.
Entering, exiting: Guy McKendrick.
A natural accounts man, to be sure. Well...that was before. Now: "The doctor says he'll never golf again." A career, ended. But what can you do? As Joan so sagely remarked, "That's life. One minute you're on the top of the world, the next minute some secretary's running you over with a lawnmower." Ah, we knew we'd remember the wording eventually. Amen.
Not ranked: Bert Cooper, Haunted Barbie, Moneypenny, Dr. Greg Harris, Sal Romano, Paul Kinsey, Grandpa Gene, Joan's goodbye cake.