Don’s stressing over the Jaguar pitch when Megan springs a possible theater engagement on him that’ll take her to Boston for three months, if she gets the part. Peggy, who pulls off yet another home run on a conference call and gets no respect for it from Don, Peggy whose resentment has been well-earned and brewing for some time, spouts off in a minor way that — combined with the other stuff, plus a deeply awful thing I am going to tell you all about in a minute — causes him to go crazy and throw money in her face. I would say that’s the worst thing that happens, and in any other episode it would be, but here it’s like #3 on the list of horrible, sickening moments.
Ken and Pete try to leverage a Jaguar vote, the head of the Dealers’ Association who is a central-casting cigar-chomping tub of gross named Herb Rennet. He tells them his non-negotiable demand: A night with Joan Harris. (Whose rapist husband, her mother reminds us, we all wish would die over in Viet Nam already.) Pete, nastier than he’s been in quite a while, of course runs this offer straight over to Joan, on the off chance that maybe prostitution is something she’s been wanting to try. She somehow refrains from slapping the ever-loving **** out him, and politely demurs, so he takes it to a SCDP partner vote. After the men pick their jaws up off the floor and put their brains back in their heads from the appalling fact that this is even a thing that’s happening, Don storms out.
Cooper never really knows what’s going on, Sterling is nominally disgusted but a creep himself, and Lane… Well, Lane just wants that bonus he always wants, so they won’t cart him off to jail. He weakly agrees to the plan, to stall, so that he can do an end-run around the whole party and tell Joan not to ask for cash, if she does it — Pete wants to give her fifty grand, in prostitution money — but just ask to become a minority partner in the firm. It’s couched as a loving gesture, sage financial advice from her biggest ally, but really he’s just watching out for himself.