Note: “x x x x x” denotes a talking head segment.

x x x x x
Michael: Last week, one of my staff, one of my friends, had a scare. He thought he might have skin cancer. He doesn’t, but that really got me thinking. We only get one chance to get things right in this life, one chance to grab our dreams and wrestle them to the ground. Carpet Diem. So! I have something special planned for my staff today. An exercise that I hope may help one or two of them realize a dream they may not even know they have.
x x x x x

(Everyone is in the conference room.)

Oscar: You want us to trade places with each other?

Michael: That’s right, Oscar. What if accounting isn’t what you’re meant to do with your life? Do you really want to wake up twenty years from now, and say to your…wife…, I wish I’d been a salesman?

Oscar: I really can’t imagine that conversation, Michael.

Michael: Exactly, so you’re all going to trade places, to get a little glimpse of the vast possibilities out there for each of you.

Kelly: Ooo, it’ll be like Freaky Friday!

Phyllis: Oh, like with Jodie Foster…

Kelly: You mean Lindsay Lohan.

Kevin: Lindsay Lohan’s hot.

Phyllis: Who’s Lindsay Lohan?

Michael: Yeah, okay. (sighs) Yes, Dwight?

Dwight: Yes, question: can I trade with you?

Michael: No, Dwight, you cannot trade with me. I’m too important, and you’d just screw things up.

Dwight: (looks hurt)

Michael: Alright, here we go, here are your assignments. Kelly, you’ll be at reception. Pam, accounting…

Angela: Accounting?!

Kelly: Wait, if we’re doing Freaky Friday, then Pam should have my job.

Meredith: I’ll take Kelly’s job!

Creed: Then I’ll take Meredith’s job.

Michael: No! Ugh. This is not Yankee Swap. Listen…just…everyone…go where I tell you to. Pam, Meredith, Phyllis: Accounting. Jim: Human Resources. Oscar, Kevin: Sales. Dwight, Angela: Quality Control. (they exchange furtive smiles) Creed: you’ll be at Kelly’s desk…

Toby: Michael, did Jan OK this?

Michael: Y-yeeessss. Toby. Yes, she did. In fact, it was her idea. She faxed it over yesterday.

Pam: I don’t remember any faxes from Corporate yesterday.

Michael: Well…Pam…if you weren’t so busy sketching kangaroos and koala bears these days, maybe you’d notice when important faxes came in.

Jim: (looks across the room at Pam)

Pam: (sinks down into her chair)

x x x x x
Michael: Jan didn’t really fax this over. She…doesn’t really know about it, per se. But if she did, I imagine she’d say, “Michael? This is exactly the reason you are Regional Manager. You’re innovative. You’re innovative, and you care. And you’re hot.”
x x x x x

Michael: Alright, take ten minutes to get acquainted with your new duties, then let’s chase some dreams, people! Go-go-go!

x x x x x
Toby: I’m about 100 percent certain that Jan knows nothing about this, but, whatever. (Camera pans back to show the security guard’s desk) So, Tate. What would you like me to do first?

Tate: (rolls his eyes)
x x x x x

(Angela and Dwight each lock a drawer on their desks, prompting a glance between Pam and Oscar, who are waiting to take their seats. Meredith watches as Kevin locks all of his desk drawers then goes to Phyllis’ desk. Oscar takes a seat at Dwight’s desk, and taps the Dwight bobblehead; Dwight grabs it protectively and walks to Ryan’s desk, which he carefully explores as though it may be booby-trapped. Angela sits gingerly in Creed’s chair, wrinkles her nose, discovers mung bean sprouts in a drawer, and throws them out.)

x x x x x
Jim: Well, this should be interesting. Michael’s put me in Human Resources. Actually, I plan to be very resourceful today. I have a little project I’ve been planning, and I think today’s the day to implement it. And, well, if it doesn’t work out, I guess I can always play Dunderball with Creed.
x x x x x

Creed: (looking through Kelly’s desk, pockets something)

Ryan: (putting his bag at Jim’s desk) I guess I’ll go here…

Kelly: Yay!

Michael: Actually, Ryan, I have a special position for you.

Kevin: That’s what she said. (Phyllis rolls her eyes as she takes her purse to Oscar’s desk)

Ryan: Oh…no.

Michael: You’ll be in my office today.

Kelly: Aw.

x x x x x
Ryan: I guess I should have seen this coming. (pause) Are you sure you guys don’t have any more questions for me? Maybe something that might take a while to answer?
x x x x x

(Everyone’s getting settled in.)

Kevin: (looks up, notices Stanley’s still at his own desk) Heyyyyy…

Stanley: You hush.

x x x x x
Stanley: Michael forgot about me. I ain’t. Sayin’. Nothin’.
x x x x x

(Ryan and Michael are in Michael’s office.)

Ryan: So…a special position?

Michael: That’s right! Well, not so much a position as a project. A very important project.

x x x x x
Michael: About a month ago, I joined an online dating service. You know, gotta climb that mound and play the field… But there was some kind of mix-up. Every time I tried to log in, I got this message that I’d been blocked from the site. (shrugs) Psh. Who knows? At any rate, it doesn’t matter. I ran into my realtor, Carol, last week, and there were definitely sparks, so… Anyway, she has two kids—great kids, bright kids—and I thought, “What better way to impress a mother than to touch her kids?”
x x x x x

Ryan: You want to write a children’s book. And you need my help?

Michael: Yessiree.

Ryan: Um, I really don’t know that much about kids. (pointing back over his shoulder) You know, Meredith and Toby both have kids…maybe they could…

Michael: Ech. Too depressing. This isn’t The Eight-Year-Old’s Guide to Drinking and Divorce. Please. No. I wanna write something that’ll appeal to today’s hip, young kids. Like Harry Potter, only…local. You know, more accessible, more believable…

Ryan: (muttering) More accessible than Harry Potter.

Michael: …you’re young, you’re fly…I just need somebody to bounce ideas off of.

Ryan: Yeah. (deep breath) Okay.

Michael: Great! Here, take a seat at my computer, and let’s make magic,…Scranton-style!

x x x x x
Ryan: I guess it’s better than making sales calls all day…so close to...you know...reception.
x x x x x

(Pam, Phyllis, and Meredith are in Accounting.)

Phyllis: (grinning) So have you chosen your flower arrangements?

Pam: I was thinking…

(Jim walks up.)

Pam: Oh! Hey.

Jim: Hey. Um, could you come back to Toby’s desk for a minute? He has another form for you to fill out for your vacation days in June.

Pam: Oh…sure.

(Pam follows Jim past Dwight and Angela. Angela gives her a disapproving glance.)

Phyllis: (to Meredith) So, have you done much accounting?

Meredith: (shakes her head, takes a sip from her cup)

x x x x x
Phyllis: Accounting? Oh, heavens, no. I don’t even have a checkbook. I’ve operated cash-only ever since I was a stri—uh, a waitress.
x x x x x

(Creed is sleeping with his feet on Kelly’s desk as Jim and Pam reach Toby’s desk.)

Pam: So…there’s another form?

Jim: Nah, that was just a cover. (leaning toward her, conspiratorially) I wanted to let you in on today’s mission, since you’ll have a front-row seat.

Pam: (excited) Oooo, what?

x x x x x
Jim: So I had this big poker game with my buddies on Valentine’s Day, right? Only, instead of taking all of their money, I extracted favors from each of them, and today I’m calling them all in. Basically, I’ve given each of them details of several of Dwight’s recent sales. He’s about to spend the day being bombarded with quality control complaints about his own sales.
x x x x x

Pam: (laughing) Right across from Angela! Oh, the emasculation…

Jim: Oh, that’s only half of it.

x x x x x
Jim: My roommate’s girlfriend has agreed to play Dwight’s “other woman” for the day. I’ve given her Creed’s normal extension, so, today, Angela should be taking some interesting messages for Dwight from a trucker-slash-paintball-enthusiast named Starla.
x x x x x

Pam: Starla? (she bursts out laughing)

Jim: Is it too much?

Pam: (can’t speak for laughing, shakes her head)

Jim: Alright, so I need you to be my eyes and ears on this, Beesly. Can you handle it?

Pam: (gets control and salutes) I’m on it, sir.

Jim: Excellent. (salutes) Dismissed, soldier.

(Pam leaves.)

Jim: (drums his fingers on Toby’s desk, then…) Heads up, Creed. (throws a Dunderball against the wall that bounces off Creed’s head)

Creed: Hm? Wha—?

(Desk shots: Stanley, Kevin and Oscar are on their phones. Kelly is talking to the mail carrier. Phyllis is filing, Meredith is staring disgusted at something on Kevin’s computer, Pam is glancing over to where Dwight and Angela are seated across from one another.)

(Dwight’s phone rings.)

Dwight: Dunder Mifflin Paper Products, Quality Control Division, Dwight Schrute speaking. Alright. (pulls out a pink QC form) Mm-hm. What was the purchase order number on that? Okay, let me look that up. (realizes it’s one of his) Yes, sir, I understand. I’ll take care of it right away. Yes. Can I call you back at—oh, okay, what number is best? (he copies down a phone number) Yes. Yes, sir, I’ll look into it right away. Good-bye.

(Angela looks across at him questioningly)

Dwight: (filling out the pink form) Warehouse screwed up one of my sales. Unacceptable. Customers expect—

(his phone rings again)

Dwight: Dunder Mifflin Paper Products, Qua— (he flinches and holds the phone away from his ear briefly) Sir? Sir? Calm down a moment…(flinches again)…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you…yes, of course…what was the purchase order num—...okay, um, what is your company name? Of course, I’m sure there’s a simple explanation…(searching computer screen)…yes, I’m looking…no, sir…yes, sir, I realize time is money…

(Angela frowns at him)

Dwight: …of course…ah, here it is. Fifty reams of 20-lb copier bond…it should be five hundred reams? Oh. No, of course…I’ll get it over to you as soon as possible. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir, we apprec— (looks at dead phone line, hangs up)

Angela: Whose sale was that?

Dwight: Mine.

Angela: Oh.

Dwight: Unacceptable. I’ll be in the warehouse. (grabs two pink forms, leaves)

x x x x x
Dwight: Negligence is inexcusable in business. My grossvater learned that the hard way. When he was wooing his sweetheart, he promised to pay her father six fat goats for her hand. But he left the feeding of the goats to his lazy brother. Needless to say, the goats never got fat. And my grossvater had to settle for marrying his sweetheart’s bald, toothless sister. A valuable lesson.
x x x x x

(Angela’s phone rings.)

Angela: Dunder Mifflin Quality Control, this is Angela. (frowns) Mr. Schrute is away from his desk right now, do you have a quality control issue? Oh. Yes, I can take a message for him. What is your name? (frowns again) Phone number?...And your message? (her pen freezes) I’m sorry, he left what in your what? I think you must have the wrong—…yes, paintball… (she looks toward the front office door, then curtly) I’ll give him your message.

(Angela slams the message down on Dwight’s desk, grabs her purse, and leaves. Pam watches her go, with a thumbs-up to the camera crew)

(Michael is pacing around his office squeezing a stress ball in each hand; he has removed his jacket and tie, loosened his collar, and rolled up his sleeves; Ryan sits at Michael’s computer, watching him, his hands poised above the keyboard)

Michael: Okay…main character…young…hot…hip…

Ryan: Female? Male?

Michael: Oh! (scornfully) Male, definitely. (to camera) Not that there aren’t female heroes out there! There are. And they have great outfits. But, “write what you know”, as they say!

Ryan: A teenager?

Michael: No, too young.

Ryan: Twenties?

Michael: Mmmm…

Ryan: (looking at Michael, then nodding) Early forties?

Michael: Late thirties.

Ryan: (sighs) And what does our hero do?

Michael: I’m thinking…something in…upper management…

Ryan: Regional Manager…?

Michael: Yes! Of a…let’s see…let’s see…

Ryan: A pap—

Michael: A pencil company! Perfect.

x x x x x
Michael : I think it’s really important to present kids with realistic heroes. I mean, wands and flying brooms? Spells? What kid’s gonna go for that? No, they’re gonna say, keep it real, man. Represent.
x x x x x

(Michael’s phone buzzes.)

Michael: Yes?

Kelly: Hi, Michael? Jan’s on the line. She said she needs to know when to expect the expense reports?

Michael: Sure, put her through. (rubs his hands together)

Kelly: Actually, she said to just ask you myself.

Michael: Oh. Uh…okay. (shrugs to camera) They go out tomorrow by courier.

Kelly: Okay…thanks…

(The intercom line stays open. Ryan avoids looking at the phone. Michael looks at it expectantly.)

Michael: I-i-i-s there anything else?

Kelly: (shyly) Hi, Ryan.

Ryan: (embarrassed) Hi…Kelly. We’re kind of busy right now.

Kelly: Okay, well, maybe we can meet for lunch? There’s a cute little—

(Ryan picks up the handset, and replaces it, cutting her off)

Ryan: (glances at the camera, slightly guilty) Um, where were we?

(A knock at Michael’s door)

Michael: Entrez!

(Darryl enters.)

Michael: Darryl, my man? How’re ma peeps—

Darryl: Why is Dwight on Quality Control?

Michael: What? Why?

Darryl: I just spent fifteen minutes being blamed for supply errors that never happened. Fifteen minutes that should have been spent loading the 1:00 truck. My guys shouldn’t have to pick up the slack.

Michael: Oh…I, uh…where is he?

Darryl: He took the van and forty-five cases of paper. I don’t know where the hell he went, but that van better be in one piece when he gets back!

Michael: Yeah…uh…

Darryl: I don’t want him in my warehouse again, Michael. He’s a jackass.

Michael: Um…sure…sorry, I…

(Darryl walks out. Michael looks relieved, tries to laugh it off to the camera. He wipes his forehead, turns back to Ryan.)

Michael: So…um…h-how about some lunch? (picks up the phone)

(Stanley, Toby, and Jim are in the lunch room. Stanley is spreading mayonnaise on a sandwich. Kevin enters.)

Toby: Whatcha got there, Stanley?

Stanley: Turkey and swiss. Teri made it, but she always leaves off my favorite part.

Jim: You like Miracle Whip?

(Kevin realizes it’s his Miracle Whip.)

Stanley: I love the tangy zip.

(Toby and Jim chuckle. Stanley finishes making sandwich, puts MW jar in fridge)

Kevin: Hey, that’s mine.

Stanley: Is it? (takes his sandwich back to his desk)

Kevin: Yeah.

(Pam enters, sits down next to Jim)

Pam: (grins) Hey.

Jim: So?

Pam: Mission launched.

Jim: Where are they now?

Pam: Dwight’s down in the warehouse. Angela left for lunch. (smirks) She didn’t look happy.

x x x x x
Pam: Oh…it’s just office pranks. You know. They’re harmless. I mean, things get kind of slow on Fridays.
x x x x x

(Parking lot at the end of lunch hour. Phyllis pulls into a parking spot. Angela is right behind her, and angrily pulls into a nearby spot. Both exit their cars.)

Angela: I wish you wouldn’t insist on parking in my spot.

Phyllis: Your spot? (looking around for a sign) They aren’t labeled.

Angela: I’ve been working at this company longer than you have, and I feel I deserve a parking spot that reflects that.

Phyllis: Well, Angela, I don’t see what difference it makes. The parking lot’s so small…

Angela: Then you won’t mind parking farther away from the door. Consider it exercise.

x x x x x
Angela: It’s about respect. There’s entirely too little respect shown around here. (abruptly leaves interview)
x x x x x

(Camera shows Phyllis leaning on her car, upset and smoking, clutching a tissue. After a while, she throws her smoke on the ground, wipes her eyes with the tissue, and heads back into the office building.)

(Everyone is back at their new desks after lunch. Dwight is unloading paper from a large van as the warehouse guys watch.)

x x x x x
Toby: (standing next to Phyllis’ car, pointing to it over his shoulder) Yeah, Angela tracked me down to complain about Phyllis. Again. I’m not sure why she didn’t just ask Jim for the usual form. (He looks at the car, then down to the ground.) Huh.

(Camera pans down to a half-smoked joint next to Phyllis’ car.)
x x x x x

(Phyllis is adding invoice figures on a calculator. Camera catches her mistakenly entering “4,025” for “1,025”, but doesn’t alert her.)

(Michael is pacing in his office holding a slice of pizza. A partial pizza, order of breadsticks, and two huge soda cups are on his desk.)

x x x x x
Ryan: Michael insisted on ordering pizza so we could work through lunch. I’ve told him I have to use the bathroom. I’m going to have to use the bathroom a lot this afternoon.
x x x x x

(Dwight returns to his desk, sweaty. Angela watches him with her arms crossed.)

Dwight: Unbelievable. The first place wasn’t even open today. Then I drove a van full of paper to the second client, and they refused to accept it.

Angela: You have a message.

Dwight: (frowning as he glances at the name on the message, whispers) Starla?
(His phone rings; he answers) Dunder Mifflin Quality Control, Dwight Schrute speaking…Hello, sir…yes, I was just there…well, no, I didn’t leave the paper, it was refused…yes, of course, I explained that…no, sir, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be condescending…no, sir…yes, sir…I brought the paper to the loading dock…deliver it to the main lobby…yes, sir…of course…I’ll see to it personally. Good-b—

(Angela is watching him expectantly.)

Dwight: (has forgotten message) I have to go. (leaves)

Angela: (whispering fiercely) Who is Starla?!

(her phone rings; she answers.)

Angela: Dunder Mifflin Quality Control, this is Angela…(grabs a pink form)…I see…and who was your sales contact? (sighs, then begins writing)…Dwight. Schrute.

(Dwight is once again loading cases of paper into the van as the warehouse guys watch. When his back is turned, they joke at his expense. When he turns in their direction, they put on an intimidating front. The camera follows as he drives the van to a large office building, backs it up to the front door, and begins running boxes into the lobby. From a distance, the camera catches an altercation between Dwight and the office’s receptionist, then between Dwight and a security guard; throughout, Dwight continues to frantically unload paper, waving a pink form.)

(Ryan is back at Michael’s computer.)

Michael: What do we have so far?

Ryan: We have one character. Steel Widowmaker. (looks at the camera) Dark hair, convertible Sebring, gay-friendly condo.

Michael: (pacing) Okay—plot! Stooorrryyyy. Action! Let’s see, what would the regional manager of a pencil company do? Think! We need conflict…Oh! (straightens up and smiles at the camera) Improv!

x x x x x
Michael: Improvisation is a great tool. When used correctly, the possibilities are endless. Yeah, I was part of an improv class a while back, but I outgrew it. You know why? Too many rules. (sarcastically imitating improv instructor) No guns, no name-calling, no fondling. (throws up his hands) I mean, what is that about? Where’s the creative freedom in that?
x x x x x

Michael: Okay! Stand up…come over here. (Ryan reluctantly leaves his seat) Alright. I’m Steel, and you are going to be my boss. Okay. Setting. We’re at a bar…

Ryan: You and your boss are at a bar?

Michael: Not me, Ryan…Steel. Stay with me. Okay. (clears his throat, lowers and roughens his voice) You asked me here to talk about pencils?

Ryan: Um…yes?

Michael: (low, rough) There’s more to me than pencils, you know.

Ryan: There is?

Michael: (low, rough) We could talk business all night, or you could let me buy you another drink, and we’ll see what happens. (Winks at Ryan, who’s beginning to look worried)

Ryan: Uh…no, I’m good. Let’s get back to penc—

Michael: Screw pencils, Jane! (Ryan = horrified) Let’s have that drink!

Ryan: I gotta use the bathroom! (bolts)

(Pam’s in HR with Jim)

Jim: (laughing) He left again?!

Pam: (laughing) Yeah! But first he had to load all of the paper back into the van!

Jim: Oh, man.

Pam: Apparently, Darryl told him he has to stop and wash the van on his way back. “Company policy.”

Jim: Who told you that?

Pam: Roy.

Jim: (slightly deflated) Ah. So…has Starla called again?

Pam: No, not yet. But there’s an impressive pile of pink forms growing on Dwight’s desk.

Jim: Nice.

x x x x x
Jim: Oh, sure, we’re having a little fun at Dwight’s expense. I just wish I could see it unfolding. Pam’s a good spy. Sounds like my buddies are really coming through.
x x x x x

Pam: So, what’ve you been doing back here?

Jim: Oh, you know. Going through everyone’s HR files. (Pam giggles) Phyllis has quite a history…

Pam: Seriously?

Jim: No! Geez, what do you take me for? (aloof) I’m offended.

Pam: (grinning) But if you did find something, you’d tell me, right?

Jim: Agh. Away with you! Shoo! Go account for something! Some of us actually work around here.

(Pam leaves, chuckling)

(Dwight returns again, looking frazzled. He notices the pile of QC forms on his desk.)

Dwight: All of these came in while I was out? (starts flipping through the pink forms) “Wrong size envelopes” … “wanted recycled” … “ordered legal, got standard”. I don’t get it … I remember each of these.

(Angela looks at him, shakes her head as she answers her phone.)

Angela: Angela Martin. (frowns) Yes, he’s right here. I’ll transfer you.

Dwight: (picking up extension) Dwight Schrute speaking. Who? Do I know— yes, I went out after paintball Wednesday … we talked about beet farming?...wait, were you the redhead with the pink halter top? (Angela is glaring) Oh. We did what? I never let anyone touch that…

(Angela gasps and stands up. Pam heads quickly for HR. Angela throws Creed’s pen in his top drawer and slams it shut. Oscar and Kevin look up from a game of Hateball to watch as she quickly gathers her things and stalks back to her own desk.)

Meredith: It’s only 4:30.

Angela: I don’t care. Tsk. Look at this mess. Where is Pam?

Phyllis: I think she went to HR.

Angela: (drops into her chair) Hussy.

(Phyllis and Meredith exchange glances, then avoid Angela’s glare.)

(Dwight finishes his phone called looking dazed and disturbed. He’s still holding the stack of QC forms as he stands and looks over to Angela, who turns away. He turns and heads toward the back.)

(Pam’s leaning on the desk next to Jim)

Jim: Oh, Starla. Brava. (chuckles) Well, I think it’s time to call off the troops. They’ve had a busy day.

Pam: (smiles, then stands up as Dwight enters HR) Okay, well, I’ll, uh, get that form filled out for Toby… (leaves)

Jim: Yeah, good… (looks at dazed Dwight and the pink forms) Wow. (he reaches for a white HR complaint form) Toby said you might come back today. Here you go. (holds the form out to Dwight, but he waves it off.)

Dwight: Actually, I just came to give you this. (hands Jim a pink form)

Jim: Is this one of mine?

Dwight: Yes. They called to say your service was impeccable.

(Jim looks at the form, realizes it’s from a real client. He looks back up at Dwight, clearly beginning to feel bad.)

Jim: Hey, um, I’ll take those (indicating the pink forms) I’ll give them to Creed when he wakes up.

(Dwight, preoccupied, hands over the forms.)

Jim: Are…you okay, Dwight?

Dwight: (pause, then quietly) Question: have you ever doubted yourself?

Jim: Sure, buddy. (looks concerned)

Dwight: Because I never did. Until today.

Jim: (feels like shit) Oh, hey, Dwight. We all have days like that. You just have to, you know, step back and get some perspective. Trust yourself. Yeah?

Dwight: Yeah, I guess so.

Jim: And Dwight. If you think someone else may be doubting you, you should just talk to her. Or him.

Dwight: Right. Thanks, Jim. (turns to leave)

Jim: Sure, Dwight. (watches him leave, then dumps the pink forms in the wastebasket)

x x x x x
Jim: (looking down) Yeah, I think I was a little rough on Dwight and Angela today.
x x x x x

(Pam returns to accounting to find Angela in her seat, and Meredith absent.)

Pam: Oh, hi, Angela. Um, where’s Meredith?

Angela: (handing Pam her things unceremoniously) She had to go get her son from school. The secretary caught him playing with her shredder. (looks pointedly at Pam)

Pam: Oh. (sheepish glance to camera) I guess I’ll head back to reception.

(Pam goes to reception, where she relieves Kelly. After a wistful glance toward Michael’s office, Kelly heads back to her own desk, waking up Creed.)

x x x x x
Creed: I have no idea what Kelly’s job is. The phone rang a few times, but I was able to ignore it.
x x x x x

Kelly: (looking through her top drawer) Where’s my lip gloss?

(A chain reaction begins as Creed returns to his desk. Kevin returns to his, then Phyllis to hers, Oscar to his. Dwight returns to his desk, looks at Angela, bites his lip. Stanley looks at the clock. Michael opens his door, and Ryan emerges.)

Michael: Alright, Ryan! Good work today! I think we could be great writing partners…

Ryan: Oh, um. No.

x x x x x
Ryan: No.
x x x x x

Michael: So! How was the old switcheroo, guys? Anyone discover a hidden talent? A secret desire?

(Angela looks at Dwight. Toby enters.)

Michael: Where have you been?

Toby: You sent me to security.

Michael: Right, right. (cocks his head) Any chance you’ll want to stay down there?

Toby: Uh, no, I really prefer Human Resources, you know, helping people…

Michael: (rolls his eyes) Whatever.

(Toby relieves Jim at HR, Jim returns to his desk. Everyone is gathering their things and filing out.)

x x x x x
Michael: I think today was a big success. Hopefully everyone took advantage of the opportunity to peek into someone else’s desk, so to speak. (In the hall, Pam notices Dwight and Angela disappearing into the stairwell, and points it out to Jim as an eavesdropping opportunity. He shakes his head and waves her toward the elevator, as if to say, Nah, let’s leave them be. She follows.) And, I made good progress on my children’s book! (pauses, frowns) I’m a little worried about Ryan, though. I think he may have a bladder infection.
x x x x x