Lost Luggage (a lesson in miscommunication)

i want everything this company has to offer…

He wore his new dress shirt, straightened his tie with practiced efficiency, and didn’t smile at the receptionist. He opened the door and walked straight into the manager’s office. (Show no weakness.)

His desk was scattered with papers and other miscellaneous objects that Dwight could only assume served some obscure functional purpose. The manager was new, according to his research (piece of cake), and he had a lopsided grin (suit excellent, hair not bad, handshake adequate).

Hands folded in his lap, he began. This would be too easy.

Lost Luggage (a lesson in miscommunication)

of course i will succeed…

The car was cold. He’d paid the obligatory compliments and suddenly “first sales call, this is huge for you” is echoing in his ears and he fidgets for a millisecond before regaining control.

He isn’t quite ready, but going on a call with the boss is his chance to prove something. The ladder won’t climb itself, so he clears his throat and looks out the window. He reminds himself to focus on what he wants.

He says exactly thirteen words in the pale blue hallway; they don’t stick out, or sink in, and his stomach drops with failure. (He has a history with that word - don’t ask.) But Michael, who was nervous around him, starts talking and the whole point of this becomes clearer. “Test” and “teach” aren’t the same after all.

They are, of course, completely successful, and he allows a smile to stretch across his face as they march back to the car. (Champions, victorious.) Michael congratulates him on the sale, and a funny tone rises in his voice when he replies. (“Why, thank you, Michael. You were excellent also.”) He turns on the radio in the car – Metallica. He considers it a sign when Michael does a bit of air guitar and sings, “We are the champions.” (Wrong band, wrong song - but still.)

He watches Michael very closely when they get back to the office; he will learn everything from this man.

i have done an excellent job this quarter... i am awesome

A year isn’t very long, and he sells a lot of paper, so things are good. Michael shows him the plaque and the certificate (they stopped making plaques), and the implication hangs in the air around them. Dwight knows that it could be him someday.

The performance review is easy, but “well, it’s settled then” isn’t quite what he expected. He pushes forward, because a good salesman doesn’t stop (that’s what she said), but Michael snaps and he doesn’t understand what happened. (“Jesus, Dwight… just give it a rest.”) Something is caught in his throat, or stuck in his back, and he feels a funny itch like maybe things won’t work out the way he thought.

i do not do that thing...

He has ambitions, which have made certain employees feel threatened.  Some people just don’t understand how it works around him.  Anyone else would be insulted (“don’t be an idiot”), but Dwight understands and listens and learns.

His desk is neat as he sits up straight and makes call after call, searching for the next customer lucky enough to talk to him.  If he concentrates, he can see Michael rearranging the “knick-knacks” (as they are called) on his desk, also working sometimes.

When he waits for a fax, or for the receptionist to find a number for him, he holds his breath and uses his psychological powers.  He doesn’t tell anyone, but when he reaches green belt (green represents growth; this student possesses a firm foundation), he can tell that it’s working. 

you’ll thank me later…

The new salesman has potential, given the right teacher. Goofy grins and rolled sleeves and nervous hands too close to his desk can be fixed - and he knows how to do it. He is determined that this will be his protégé (they’ll make an unstoppable team), because Michael is all well and good, but having the support of an inferior is all but crucial.

Jim is willing to learn, so he squares his shoulders and speaks clearly, hands gripping the paperwork. He lets the newbie stew in his own nervous energy until the parking lot is far behind them and they are finally standing in the cool lobby.

He allows one hand to brush his shoulder, “you’ll do fine, just follow my lead”, and their strategy works and it’s good to be in charge. He retrieves the tape from his pocket (“you can drive”), pushes it in firmly, and reveals a secret. “First sale, it’s unwise to start with something boosting - but maybe next time.”

A shrug means nothing, but everything worked out.

there are multiple things i do not need…

When he reaches Assistant (to the) Regional Manager, things start to matter. Sales are important and he starts working on his own. No Michael, no Jim. Which is good, because he can say what he wants and he doesn’t have to compromise and his car is better and he can play his music as loud as he wants.

He gets the “team feel” from laser-tag victories (it isn’t just a sport). Nothing is more important than the contracts he signs (on paper). So connecting to another salesman can wait for team building. He can intimidate a client with his intensity, and list every price for every type of paper Dunder-Mifflin carries from memory.

He didn’t do a lot of work with anyone anyways. He could succeed his own way; other people messed around on company time.

He still listens to Michael because a true employee radiates their power and Michael Scott is powerful.

I will achieve and also increase production on the farm...

Change is business, so when Michael returns tired and notably rumpled, Dwight reorganizes his contract archive and analyzes the situation. He closed his deals last week (punctuality is next to domination), so he makes a list of new strategies and watches the blinds from the corner of his eye.

It’s been quiet enough (almost too quiet) since the merger. The lighting is the same (he checked), and the coffee is still at the lab, so he puts the change down to emotional imbalance.

Of course Jim would allow his personal life to interfere with things. Not that it’s that bad, but by his mental calculations, the relapse will spell doom for his scheduled calls. The risk of downsizing (or flash floods) is heightened when the path between his desk and reception is fraught with tension (and, no doubt, inappropriate use of company time and resources).

He stays late to finish emailing old clients, keeping one eye glued to Michael’s office. The lights are off, and if he doesn’t leave soon he’ll miss “LOST” - but he knows that a good hunter waits for its prey. So he sits, the glow of his monitor illuminating his face, poised to rush into his office - should the need arise.

some things are meant to be shared…

The airport lost his luggage. So, as (former) A(to the)RM, Dwight lends Michael his toothbrush (“Hygiene in the Office” was an enlightening film). He knows Jim is looking at the camera with that hopeless look on his face, but he realizes “who cares?” because Jim doesn’t ever do anything and who knows what he wants.

Things haven’t really changed. The lighting is still the same (double checks are important) and he moved the plant back to it’s old spot and it’ll take more than one incompetent salesman sitting a few feet from his old seat to change things. Dwight is happy and Jim isn’t and he knows it. So.

He can imagine Michael’s suitcase revolving around on a carousel somewhere far away (airports have poor service, they’ve probably taken everything of value anyway). Around and around. He throws out the toothbrush when he gets it back from Michael, then lends him a new shirt. (A good salesman is nothing if not prepared.)

… if things work out today…(you’re just another day away)

Today is the same as any other day. Nothing unusual. At all.

At lunch he helps Angela from accounting retrieve her change that rolled under the vending machine and she doesn’t look at him when their fingers brush over the counter as she thanks him politely (and distantly)

When he checks his email (periodic checks every 20 minutes to increase efficiency) he has three from Michael and painstakingly replies and mentally calculates the days until the anniversary of his first sale call.

Jim offers to stay late so he stays as long as possible to guard his stapler, leaving multiple messages with all his clients. He finally gives in and stares at Jim analyzing his body language for the seven signs of aggression and plotting. He’s found six when Jim glances up (he’s always had appalling reflexes).

“What are you doing Dwight? You can go home you know,”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

He thinks of what he could be doing at home and remembers that he has a guest for dinner.

“Halpert, I’m trusting you this once. Don’t screw it up.”

Jim doesn’t say anything (complete compliance) so he grabs his coat and goes to pick up the special vegetarian Roast Angela recommended (for his guest, not her)

An agreement meant fulfilling it’s terms without exception. Therefore at four in the conference room he had his opportunity to protest the deliberate malfeasance of certain employees and defend the rigid principles of Dunder-Mifflin. He uses his most intense glances and impassioned speeches but it is all wasted (Toby refuses to hear of true crimes)

He walks out every week sometimes victorious, sometimes defeated (a true warrior will always continue).

Let them laugh because he will always keep fighting.

(Did Frodo and Sam give up?)

i am not a hero (but i will accept it from you)…

He’s surprised when she tells him but can’t keep the smile off his face, watching her car follow him home.  Soft whispers in his ear are something new and he holds her hand tightly as he unlocks the door and sends Mose out for the night. 

It’s (not) the same, her hand grazing the outside of his thigh in the break room, secret smiles and she still watches him from the photocopier. 

I can see the day when we tell everyone...