On tonight’s season finale of “The
Apprentice,”
Donald Trump will utter his catchphrase either to Kwame Jackson
or Bill Rancic, ending the competition and one of the most
successful new reality shows in recent memory. Unfortunately, I
can’t print Trump’s phrase because I’m afraid of
being sued for copyright infringement.
Trump’s quest to copyright legally what I’ll call
“the phrase of contractual employment dismissal” is
just one example of how “The Apprentice” is more about,
well, everyone than it is about the title character himself.
(It’s only “himself” because the two finalists
are men.) Because the show became such a hit, everyone’s
finding a way to profit.
It all starts with Trump. “The Apprentice” has
brought him more fame than even he could buy. Not only does he have
his second book out, aptly titled “Trump: How to Get
Rich,” but he’s also been a guest on “Late Night
with Conan O’Brien” and hosted “Saturday Night
Live.” In short, he’s now, somehow, a pop icon.
So what does this all mean? When I was in New York over Spring
Break, a giant banner approximately the size of the broad side of
Bunche Hall was plastered across a Trump Tower; it featured a giant
photo of Trump and a small logo of “The Apprentice.”
The building and the shops inside seemed to be more crowded than
usual. He also recently opened a new shopping mall on 59th Street
in Columbus Circle that features the largest Whole Foods in the
United States.
Additionally, The Associated Press reported April 7 that Trump
visited one of his casinos to play the Apprentice Chicken
Challenge, “a ticktacktoe game with live poultry in a booth
pecking its board selections while a gambler makes picks outside
the box.” I don’t even know what that means, but
apparently, it’s popular.
And people are surprised he’s now trying to copyright the
phrase of contractual employment dismissal?
But as “The Apprentice” grew in popularity, others
joined the moneymaking bandwagon. KFC announced last week that
whoever lost on the final episode would be offered a weeklong job
as chief sales officer and $25,000 to help introduce a new line of
oven-roasted chicken products. It seems rather ironic that a show
promoting business savvy breeds chickens.
And as is fitting in the world of business, the individual
winners on the show aren’t the nice guys you’ll see on
the finale. According to a April 11 Washington Post article,
Omarosa Manigault-Stallworth, commonly considered to be the
show’s villain, might host a talk show, is working on a book
deal, has read for a TV pilot, and is talking to designers about
developing her own line of business suits. She might even have a
doll made in her own likeness. Oh. And she might be a guest judge
on “American Idol,” too, but I’m not sure
that’s a paying gig.
Manigault-Stallworth’s dismissal from the show may prove
to be more lucrative than the job offered to whoever ends up
winning. And it’s because, like Trump himself, she made
herself into a commodity to sell in a market. It was a great
business move and only shows that no matter how qualified you are,
you can’t beat good publicity.
Tracer’s fired. E-mail him at
jtracer@media.ucla.edu.