[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/jM9AWVG.png[/img]
[h1][colour=orange]Pretoria Qualified: Best of a Kind.[/colour][/h1][/centre]

A multicultural group of vaguely businesslike looking men and women of various ages sit in a liberally sunlit board room, smiling gleefully to each other in their business-casual wear. They don't actually say anything to one another, just mouthing random muted nonsense to their coworkers as the narrator speaks over top of them. He uses a lot of pleasant sounding buzzwords, like 'success' and 'potential', extolling to the probably miserably poor listener on some street corner somewhere how great it is to actually be rich enough to matter in life—just, saying it more subtly than that. The camera pans out of the room, following a window into a shot of the skyline of a generic looking megalopolis that could pass well enough for whatever city the viewer happens to be living in. Various stereotypical markers of economic development are shown; skyscrapers under construction by small armies of autonomous cranes with a handful of human supervisors, a gaggle of stylish young women with their eyes glued to the latest needless electronic entertainment device, the newest hotrods zipping down luxury superhighways reserved for driverless cars at humanly impossible to manage speeds, etc. The impression given by the narrator—a middle-aged British man speaking in perfect received pronunciation—is that society is going just swell, and all of the people pictured are benefiting from the preeminence of the megacorporations previously depicted in the boardroom scene.

[centre][img]http://bennatberger.net/wp-content/uploads/bennatberger-net/sites/271/bennat-berger-futuristic-skyline-1080x675.jpeg[/img][/centre]

But then, the scene shifts to one of the proles, a young adult male in working class garb, standing at the ground entrance of a Pretoria Qualified skyrise. He has a beverage in his hand from a popular contemporary fast food joint, both to show that he's not suffering too badly and to help endear him to the viewer at home, who will see his beverage as being from whichever restaurant the advertising AI has determined is their favourite. He glances upward at the tall building, arching his back slightly more than is necessary to emphasize the enormity of it. As he simple-mindedly gawks, a woman with supermodel looks who for some reason is merely an attendant for the building the man is staring at goes above and beyond what she's paid to do and actually steps outside to personally greet the man. Her voice, very friendly and welcoming and in whichever language and accent is predominant in the region the commercial is being played, is the first we hear besides the narrator's. The woman isn't actually speaking, but is simply dubbed over after the fact, her mouth digitally altered to look like she's saying what she is; the model only spoke English and sounded kind of nasally. She invites the man to open up an account with PQ, a proposition that surprises him so much he drops his drink. A small, cute looking janitorial robot cleans it up for him immediately. After it does so, the attendant laughs, and ushers the man next door. She introduces him to a busy-looking bank branch labelled 'PQ+'. All of the people standing in line there are obviously not wealthy, just regular working class slobs. The man ignores the busy line, instead escorted into the building by the attendant. She introduces him to Pretoria Qualified's newest money-making venture: PQ+, the brand new "working man's" brand of financial services offered by Pretoria Qualified.

The comforting voice of the narrator returns to explain some of those new services. As a series of disclaimers rapidly scroll across the bottom of the screen in an obscenely small font size, the narrator focuses in on one service in particular: the "orange book", an investment plan offered by PQ+, which the narrator unreasonably promises will help give opportunity for anyone to join the ranks of the megarich elites shown in the boardroom in the previous scene. To emphasize the point, the camera returns to the boardroom, panning to the side slightly to show that the same Average Joe introduced to PQ+ by the PQ attendant was actually a member of the board all along, just outside of camera. The shifts in time over the course of the commercial aren't fully explained but it's assumed people at home can get the idea. The implication is that the orange book investment plan will enable any random guy off the street to become a corporate executive. Probably not believable, but people will get the impression that it's worth their time anyway, even if the returns are dismal and it's hard to back out of the program once you're in.

[centre][img]http://www.get-rich-and-retire-early.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/investment.jpg[/img][/centre]

The ad ends with the generic orange PQ logo, sans plus sign, over top a white screen. The white screen quickly dissipates to show the vibrant city skyline again, just as PQ's slogan, "Best of a Kind", appears beneath the logo. The narrator says it aloud to bring home the point, and the commercial gives way to some other company's corporate propaganda.