In the latest episode of "The Chair Company," we finally delve into the backstory of Ron Trosper, which the show has thus far been hesitant to explore. Despite the occasional digressions and absurd gags, this particular episode, "Bahdl Harmon Birthplace (Disputed)," is a game-changer, prioritizing the central character study and using flashbacks to great effect.
After a brief exploration of the past, we find Ron still reeling from the security footage of the masked figure in his backyard and the drunken voicemail he and Mike left for Tecca. He's still determined to uncover the truth behind the Tecca conspiracy, if it exists. This time, however, his focus shifts from Red Ball Global to the chairs themselves. When they're sold out on the Tecca website, he enlists the help of the janitor to steal one from the office. Though he aborts the mission when his coworkers step outside for beignets, Mike ultimately pulls it off, transporting a chair to Ron's garage. Additionally, Steven Droyco provides a solid lead by tracking down RBGM CFO Ken Tucker, leaving us with a minor cliffhanger for next week.
But that's just the tip of the iceberg. This episode ratchets up the paranoia even more than usual, putting Ron through a series of bizarre and possibly related inconveniences. One of the most specific developments is the multiple instances of stolen identity. First, Ron wakes up to a visit from a stranger who supposedly arranged to buy a vintage Beatles figure collection from him, only to be left verklempt when Ron has nothing for him.
However, the biggest issue is that somebody submitted his name, phone number, and headshots to multiple modeling agencies. Now he's hearing back from them one by one, learning that he couldn't have a career in modeling even if he wanted to. (The first agent says his face is "a bit too extreme.") One particularly striking moment is when an agency goes with the titular "Bahdl Harmon" instead, prompting Ron down a brief jealous spiral.
This workday scenario is laden with unnecessary distractions, particularly when Jeff confronts Ron over yet another fabricated email, this time one "aggressively" soliciting a raise. Ron's inability to even muster a counter-argument suggests a possible interest in such an advancement, if not a hint of weakness. The Amanda predicament looms as a persistent source of stress: HR unearthed a high school photo of Ron with his arm around her, seemingly at odds with his earlier comments on their relationship dynamics. As he explains to Dr. Stevens, the outside observer, Amanda was once a nerd whose mother worked in the basement, "emerging from that little door in the hallway all grimy to deliver Amanda her lunch. She worked with pipes or something."
There are more substantial sources of stress, such as Douglas's no-show at work—likely a result of his shame over his behavior at the mistakes party. In Ron's fevered imagination, Tecca might have had Douglas murdered after Ron used his name at the county clerk's office. As usual, reality defies both expectations and Ron's worst-case scenario. It transpires that Douglas was trapped under a fallen refrigerator for two days, and Louis saved him by delivering a beignet (at Ron's panicked request), even bathing him before the paramedics arrived. How's that for a good deed, Ron?
The sound of police sirens outside Ron's house when he arrives home evokes instant dread, despite the show's previous lessons on how to read such scenes. Yet, Ron's terrified reactions feel justifiable this time around. And again, the truth defies both our predictions and his imagination—"Barb's throat ripped across the counter"—as it turns out the cops are merely collecting a grill donated by the impostor to the station.
This visit from the cops serves as the final straw for Ron, prompting him to act swiftly in getting his family out of harm's way. In practice, this means enlisting Mike's friend (a "really bad guy," as he emphasizes) to fake a bug infestation while escorting Barb and Seth to stay with Natalie and Tara in her future daughter-in-law's guest room. With everyone under one roof, the earlier glimpses of their backstory start to come together in a meaningful way.
Let's pause to consider those first two flashbacks, which delve into Ron and Barb's parallel career trajectories. Six years ago, Barb conceived the idea of starting her own business selling stylish breast pumps, and Ron decided to join her by striking out on his own with Jeep tours. While she flourished immediately, he struggled to find investors for his venture. He recounts one particularly disastrous investor meeting—by "disastrous," I mean "manslaughter-adjacent." He took an investor out on the trails and sped up to impress him, only to hit a log he mistakenly believed the Jeep could clear comfortably. The man suffered a hard head injury on the windshield and fell silent, likely concussed. So Ron dropped him off at his hotel to sleep—a decision that could have had dire consequences if not for the intervention of fate or a good Samaritan like Louis with his beignet.
This is an extraordinary and defining confession, one that may never be repeated throughout the series. But Ron's reactions are telling. He yearns to do something good, to provide a lifeline for soldiers during peacetime, yet the investors are more interested in the potential of cheesy VR. Nonetheless, he cannot relent. In pursuit of his noble goals—or, more accurately, to keep pace with Barb's success and avoid returning to Fisher Robay with his tail between his legs—he will continue to invest his time and money. Of course, we know that Ron eventually returned to work when the Jeep tours failed.
In the present moment, Ron checks in with Natalie about her engagement, concerned about the way Tara dismisses her artistic passions and forces her to add olives to everything. Here, the script draws a fascinating parallel between generations: Ron asserts that he does not want his daughter "brought along" to support Tara, while Natalie points out that he does the same with Barb. But Ron does not see himself as taking a backseat in his career, or at least does not want to. The idea feels emasculating, and in retrospect, that insecurity makes his criticism of Tara sound like total projection, even if he has a point.
So Ron takes a risky step to prove how much he's doing with his life: He tells Natalie the truth about the conspiracy he's investigating. In his explanation, he delves deeper than we realized, revealing a scene we didn't see of him dissecting the Tecca chair. Apparently, the chair was missing its appendix, a lever manufactured in Hungary resembling sticks of an opiate called Thebaine. He is now delusional in his confidence that Brucell Pharma (a company with Ken Tucker on the board) is smuggling Thebaine into the country using Tecca as a front.
But Natalie does not react by calling him crazy as you might expect. Instead, she offers unequivocal support, saying, "I love you, I trust you, and I got you." It's a touching moment, and I must admit I was moved by how deeply Ron was touched. But when he leaves Barb's work dinner to meet with Droyco, Natalie tracks his location on her phone, clearly concerned. And the final flashback of the episode reshapes our understanding of what we just watched. At the height of Ron's denial about the failure of Jeep tours, he completely broke from reality, forcing Barb and the kids to handle him delicately and play along until he let go. "He's going to come out of it," Barb reassures a teenage Natalie as she watches Ron muttering to himself in the garage. "All we can do is tell him that we love him, we trust him, and we got him."
These closing moments recontextualize our understanding of this man and the investigation that structures the entire show—and yet they also perfectly fit with what we've seen thus far. This is not the first time Ron has become obsessed, and it may not be the last. As I ponder whether The Chair Company has just elevated from good to great, I fear how dark things will get.
