Michael Ginsberg enters the break room in a huff, aggressively drops his satchel on the table. Sal stirs a drink.
SAL: Easy, kitten, you’ll scratch the enamel.
SAL: Something the matter?
GINSBERG: Draper. All that work I did on the Sno-Ball campaign, and-
SAL: Kid, if you’re going to turn into Blanche DuBois every time Don Draper treats you unfairly, you might as well go ahead and marry him.