Shark Tank – Season 5, Episode 501– Live Blog and Discussion

Once again, lazy ol’ ABC is repeating an episode–actually two tonight, but I’m ignoring the 8 o’clock one because I had some lying around doing nothing to do. This one is the debut show of Season 5.

The pitches tonight include a gourmet pickle outfit that uses a century-old secret family recipe, something I never understand because they have to print the ingredients on the label; a mobile app by which you turn a photograph from your phone into a printed postcard that gets mailed right then, which is only going to be viable until the post office’s inevitable declaration of bankruptcy; an online directory of medical professionals for patients that “allows for effective communication and rapid exchange of ideas,” which probably just means your doctor will now diagnose your pneumonia by Skype; and the eyebrow-raisingly named Sweet Ballz, a “first of its kind company” that’s bringing cake balls to the mass market. I don’t know about that one. I can take a melon-baller to a Sara Lee just as easily as they can.

Thus we begin. Postcard on the Run is presented by a scruffy guy who talks too fast. His company is basically Facebook on cardstock. You download the app to your phone, take a photo, write a message, and sign it with your finger so it looks like it was sent by a stroke victim, then they take over and get it printed and mailed. If you don’t have the recipient’s address available, they have another feature that looks it up for you–without explaining how you determine whether it’s the right address if you’re sending your postcard to John Smith of Chicago. Each card costs $2.49, which hardly seems worth it when you could just email the person your photo and tell them to print it out for free. A better app would be one that sends a dead fish to someone you have a grudge against.

Mr. Wonderful accuses an indignant Scruffy of not having a proprietary product. And naturally, his numbers do not please any of the Sharks. His valuation is too high. Babs likes the idea of a real postcard, though, because she’s old and probably also thinks you can phone the pictures in from your landline. But she wants the message to be all in handwriting, because that’s more personal, as if “Having grt time–wish u were here” is so intimate. So she’s out. Robert makes an offer lower than the ask, also because he likes the concept and apparently believes his kids would enjoy sending him picture postcards of them eating caviar back at the mansion while he’s away. His $300,000 for 10% is not acceptable, though. Scruffy is sweating. He’s willing to drop valuation to $5 million. Robert counters. An even shinier Scruffy refuses, and counters again. Finally, they reach a deal. Next, Scruffy needs to invent some deodorant that works.

An update follows on some women who have a successful jarred cupcake company. Cake always works, I’m telling you. Their business is booming, of course. The show never tells us about the failures. Mr. Wonderful comes to visit them, joyful that they have paid back his investment in full. My heart is gladdened at all the money being made.

Next we have two disturbingly cheerful girls, Lynnae and Ali, who run the gourmet pickle business. I do not believe WASPs can make good pickles, especially since they pronounce jalapeno as “hal-a-peeno.” They also don’t have enough inventory to grow the company, despite the fact that their product is basically a jar of water. They’re going to meet with Target, though. The girls say their pickles are a gourmet, high-end, fancy-shmancy product that costs $7 a jar. That’s a pretty pricey pickle, a crazily costly cuke, a distressingly dear dill! Now Mr. Wonderful tells them they are not worth as much as they claim, and wonders if he wants pickles in his portfolio. The answer is no. The girls insist their potential is unlimited. They are obviously graduates of a charter school. Babs says they don’t need any stinkin’ investors. So no lettuce for the pickles.

Following them are two doctors with the  social media website for physicians and their patients, called Rolodoc. Realizing that communication in medicine is behind the technological times, what with doctors still refusing to text people that they’ve been diagnosed with a terminal disease, the guys developed this site that lets you post your ailment and thereby find a doctor to treat it. The hacking horror stories are as unlimited as the pickle girls’ potential. Mr. Wonderful asks what they’re adding to the already electronic system in place that maintains records and allows patients to correspond by email. The doctors hem and haw in a way that does not inspire confidence in their clinical skills. They cannot explain how this represents a form of social media instead of just another way to let your doctor spend more time on the golf course. Then the Sharks consider the risk of all the elements that can’t be managed, like vetting credentials and patients consulting with doctors they haven’t actually met. It has all the makings of a Lifetime movie called “The Rolodoc Murders.” Things get heated. Mark gets up and congratulates the two on having the worst presentation ever.  Mr. Wonderful just can’t figure out where he can make money.  These doctors are OUT.

Now come two young guys with Sweet Ballz. HAHAHAHAHA. They gave the cake ball a make-over, which means they removed the stick and stuck four of ’em in a box.  I thought the stick was a good idea– it keeps your fingers clean and you can use it to poke anyone trying to take your other cake balls. They have sold a huge dollar figure, though, at $1.99 a box. But it seems 7-11 has 95% of their sales, so clearly, teens with the munchies are their entire customer base. Babs offers a quarter mill for 40%, which is not met with enthusiasm. Thinking of his success with the jarred cupcakes, Mr W offers the same amount for a 30% stake. Then Lori, flogging her QVC credentials, offers $250,000 for a 36% stake and equal cash distribution, whatever that is. Robert pipes up with $250,000 for a 25% stake. The Sharks are hungry for cake balls.

Mark will partner with Babs, who will adjust her offer to 33%; then they agree on a quarter mill for 25% together. Robert says, “Me, too!” It’s madness, madness! I also tend to react that way when cake is involved, though. Robert will team with Lori and Mr. Wonderful. The Sharks are now the pitchers, trying to convince the Sweet Ballzers to pick them. The frosting is on the other layer, now, isn’t it? The boyz go with Mark and Barbara. To the other three, they say, let them eat cake balls.

And so we end another hour of confounding money talk and products that make me hungry. Good night!

 

 

 

 

About E.M. Rosenberg 240 Articles
Favorite 40-volume series issued by Time-Life Music: Sounds of the Seventies. Favorite backsplash material: Subway tile. Favorite screen legend I pretend wasn’t gay: Cary Grant. Favorite issue you should not even get me started about: Venal, bloodsucking insurance industry. Favorite character from the comic strip “Nancy”: Sluggo, or maybe Rollo. Favorite Little Debbie snack: Nutty Bars. Favorite Monkee: Mike.