"You're listening to WYDM; Scranton's only way to get through the day! DJ Dwight will be back tomorrow with another edition of ‘You Can't Stop the Beet!' serving up another plate of radical revolutionary topics for you to chew on from 10-2. But hey, don't touch that radio; up next is our very KK Kapoor with the ‘Pop Culture Parade': four hours of non-stop celebrity gossip, news, and up-to-the-minute reports of who's with who and who's that baby's daddy! And hey, don't forget, tomorrow morning, the WYDM family gets a little bigger with the introduction of Jim Halpert in the Morning! Wake up to Jim every morning, from 6-10, and start your day the right way! For now we've got Toby with the traffic. Toby, how are things looking out there?"

Andy clicked the mute button on his mic and threw off his headphones, glaring through the plexi-glass window.

"Pamela..." he said, dragging out the syllables in her name as he sauntered over to her booth. "You were late on your cue again! I don't understand, chickadee, how many times do we have to have dead air before you stop doodling and actually pay attention to your job!"

"Look, Andy, I'm sorry, I just got distracted-"

"Uhh, one moment," Andy held up an imaginary phone, his face scrunched up in contempt. "Oh, Pam, clue-phone, it's for you: You're always distracted! Just try not to piss off Mr. Big-Shot-New-Guy tomorrow morning, okay? He's going to have a hard enough time just getting people to call in; he doesn't need you screwing up timing for commercials."

"Andy," Pam said calmly. "You wouldn't be getting...angry again, would you?"

Andy's eyes widened. "What? Pssh, no, of course not..."

"Because Michael's in a pretty bad mood already, what with listener count being down, sponsors not coming through...he wouldn't like the thought of his producer having another ‘episode.'"

She kept a smile to herself as she watched Andy struggle to keep composure.

"Your shift's over," he said coolly. "You can go."

That was the only nudge Pam needed as she quickly gathered her things and left the station, grateful to have the rest of the afternoon to herself to run errands, clean the apartment, and get some rest before the early day that awaited her tomorrow. It was her first time doing the early shift, and from what'd she heard from the other operators, mornings were the worst. WYDM got decent amount of listeners during the day and early evening, but the lines were dead through the morning, mostly due the array of mind-numbingly boring hosts that put people to sleep rather than get them going in the morning. Michael mentioned in the last station meeting that they were bringing in the "big guns from Philly", as he put it, to try and boost listener counts. Pam wanted to be optimistic, but between her bad-habit of drawing while on the air and the early hours, it would take a miracle for someone to hold her attention.

xxx

"Michael, what exactly are you angry about?"

"I just-I don't have a good feeling about this guy, Jan. I mean he's "big city" you know? He's going to come in her with his espressos and his Blackberry and be all ‘Ooo, look at me, I'm from Philadelphia.'"

Jan let out a hiss of frustration over the phone. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but I think he'll be a good addition to the station."

"Well, I don't understand what was wrong with my candidate!"

"Ryan Seacrest, Michael? That was ludicrous."

"He's very popular in California! I think we need a little West Coast flavor!"

"Look, it doesn't matter what you think Michael, the point is, we've hired Jim and that's that. He'll be stopping by this afternoon to get acquainted with the studio. And just please, please" she stressed. "Be. Professional."

The dial tone rang through Michael's ear as he rolled his eyes.

"Professional," he muttered. "I'm the definition of professional."

xxx

"My God, you're tall!" Michael exclaimed. "What are you, like, 7 feet?"

Jim gave a small laugh. "6'3" actually but thanks...I think."

"Alright, Gigantor, let's take you on a tour. Try not to step on anybody, would ya?" Michael clapped Jim on the back, leading him through the halls.

"Okay, so over here is where we do news. Nothing too interesting there, just a lot of political hoo-hah. Oh, and this is where Angela Martin works!" Michael strode up to the open booth door.

"Knock-knock! How's it going in here? Everything good?"

"I'm getting ready for a show," Angela responded tersely, not looking up from her paperwork.

"Oh, gotcha, don't want to interrupt. Just thought I should introduce the Jolly Green Giant here, Jim Halpert. He's our new morning guy."

Jim offered his hand and Angela, after giving Jim a condescending once-over, weakly shook it.

"Jim, perhaps you've heard of Angela's show? ‘I'm Not One to Judge, But...'"

"Oh yeah, I've caught it a couple times. That's some great...advice you give."

"Well, someone has to," she said, as if the Almighty himself had sent her to do it.

"Okay Jim, let's get out of here before the frostbite sets in," Michael muttered, fleeing from Angela's booth with great speed. "Oh, good! Stanley Hudson, our R&B brotha..."

"For the last time, Michael, I do jazz," Stanley grumbled while politely shaking Jim's hand.

"Yeah, yeah, you and Stevie Wonder are tight, right? Big surprise there. Okay, over this way!"

Jim tagged along behind Michael for the rest of the afternoon, surveying his new workplace with amusement and just a bit of fear. He took mental notes of everyone he came across to better acquaint himself, and to determine who to avoid at all costs.

Angela: Yikes. Kelly: Don't ask questions, just answer hers. Kevin: limit conversation topics to sports and food.

They were close on finishing the tour when suddenly Michael stopped with a groan.

"Oh God..."

"Michael!" Dwight exclaimed, charging up to him. "When is the new guy coming? As Assistant Station Manager..."

"Assistant to the Station Manager..."

"Same difference. Anyway, as-‘

"Hi," Jim cut him off. "Jim Halpert, the new guy."

Dwight took a small step back to survey him, proceeding then to circle him like a vulture.

"He looks weak."

"I wasn't aware there was heavy-lifting required for this job," Jim said with a smirk.

"He has attitude. Michael, we can't allow this for the morning show, he'll scare everyone off."

"Dwight, just-there's no one to scare off, okay? Maybe a little attitude is what we need to get people listening."

"But it's offensive-"

"Hello? That's what people like! Believe me, I know."

Jim looked around for someone, anyone to share the moment with but resigned to just smiling to himself.

As they walked away from a sulking Dwight and over to where he would be broadcasting, Jim's nervousness started to subside. It was a good station; smaller than the one in Philadelphia, but respectable. The people were certainly characters and would provide for some good entertainment. He was busy plotting how to switch Dwight's sci-fi sound effects tape with barnyard noises when they arrived at his booth.

"And here's where you'll be working! Probably not as roomy as the one back in Philly, but-"

"No, this is great," Jim interjected, taking a seat in his chair and giving it a spin. "Thanks, Michael, I really appreciate the opportunity."

Michael, obviously overwhelmed by his sincerity, cleared his throat and made a small bow of his head.

"Certainly. I think I misjudged you, good sir. You are quite groovy."

Jim frowned in confusion.

"Grooves. On a record. Just some DJ humor, you'll pick it up. See you later, big guy!"

Jim took in his new surroundings, marveling at how no matter how many times he'd been in one before, there was nothing better than the feel of a studio. He made his way over to the board operator's booth, noting its smallness in size when he noticed a stray piece of notebook paper left on the desk. He picked it up and saw a small cartoon of a man with a sash that read "Producer" being electrocuted from the station's tower. Jim laughed to himself, placed the paper back where he found it, and made one more mental note before beginning to prepare for tomorrow's show.

Board operator: A sense of humor

Pam emitted another yawn as she dragged herself into WYDM at 5:00 am. The sun had just barely started to rise, staining the tops of trees and buildings with sunlight. The station was starting to wake up as computers hummed and phones rang faintly in the distance. She waved to Creed as she passed his booth, hearing just a snippet of him wrapping up his late night show.

"Well kids, it was fun while it lasted. I'd like to thank my guest, Chairman Mao for joining me via telephone this evening. Always a pleasure, sir. Until tomorrow night, this is The Creetan signing off. Konishewa."

Pam stopped by the break room to refill her already empty coffee cup, running into Phyllis, another board operator, on the way.

"Hey Pam, you're here early."

"Yeah, Andy's got me with the new guy today. I think he's punishing me."

Phyllis smiled sweetly. "I hear he's not so bad. Supposed to the big-"

"Guns from Philly. So I hear," Pam rolled her eyes with a laugh. "How's Oscar doing?"

"Oh, fine. Just got back from the Galapagos so he's got some new material for the show. Not sure he'll give it a very good report though," Phyllis frowned and leaned in to Pam. "Big lizards," she whispered.

"Oh...right," Pam nodded, though she was thoroughly confused as to what exactly that meant.

"Good luck on the show," Phyllis said, heading towards her booth with a wave.

"Thanks," Pam replied, breathing a heavy sigh. She made a stop by the supply closet to pick up a fresh legal pad and pen, carefully balancing them in one hand and her coffee in the other, her purse resting on the crook of her elbow. She saw her booth's door already open, buttons flashing and machines whirring as the small station came to life.

"Andy, come on, you know I hate it when you-" she stopped short at the sight of a tall man fiddling with the board, his back to her.

"You're not Andy."

He whipped around, looking slightly guilty at first but his face quickly softened into pleasant surprise.

"Uhh, no I'm not. Thank God."

Pam normally would have registered that as a joke and made the appropriate laugh. But she was too taken aback with not only the stranger's presence in her booth, but with just how much she didn't mind him being there.

"I'm Jim. Halpert. The new guy. Sorry, I didn't mean to be messing around in your space I just wanted to get a feel for it."

Pam was still gawking when she realized that the silence was growing awkward and quickly tried to save herself. "Oh, no, really that's okay. I'm Pam," she said, trying to offer a hand but realizing both were extremely full.

"Whoa, let me help you with that," Jim said, quickly taking the items from her hands and placing them gingerly on her desk.

"Thanks. So do you always get here this early for your show?"

"Well, yeah. Usually. Got to be prepared. Why? Didn't the other DJs do the same?"

Pam scoffed, slinking her coat off of her and draping it over her chair. "Not quite. Usually about fifteen minutes before hand. Usually hungover."

Jim's jaw dropped with a laugh. He ran his hand through his hair that Pam noticed was long enough to curl around his ears in a handsomely boyish way.

"And here I thought I'd have big shoes to fill. Guess the pressure's off me," he grinned and Pam could think of no intelligent response other than to grin right back.

"Listen, I've got some stuff to do before the show. But I'll be seeing you in there?" he jerked his thumb toward the booth.

Pam nodded, watching him walk off down the hall. She sighed and sank into her seat, feeling a kick of energy coarse through her that she suspected had nothing to do with coffee.

xxx

"Well, I don't care if you're not ready, you have to keep it," Angela lectured.

"But-but we didn't plan on having one for a long time. At least until we lived together!"

"Things change. Life rarely lets you ‘plan'. And by ‘life' I mean ‘God.' Meredith, don't you DARE touch that delay button! This is my show and I can preach if I want to!"

Meredith's hand froze in mid-air, trembling with fear at the thought of what would happen if she ignored her. She pulled her hand away and grabbed her Big Gulp, chewing on the straw nervously.

"Now then," Angela began calmly. "Like it or not, you got yourself into this and now you have to deal. That cat has feelings and can't be kicked to the curb like your boyfriend's pornography collection."

"Hey!"

"Thanks for calling, Jenny! You're listening to ‘I'm Not One to Judge, But' and we'll be right back with more of your calls," Angela crooned sweetly before getting the signal from Meredith that she was off, and made a sound of disgust.

"Good morning, Angela," Dwight said in a low voice, suddenly appearing at her doorway.

"Good morning, Dwight. I trust you're ready for your broadcast?"

"Oh yes, very. In fact you could say I'm...prepared." He hit the last word with such intensity that it suddenly spawned a new definition, one that Angela seemed to eagerly agree with.

"Prepared? How so?"

"Research, lists, reports, statistics," he said, moving closer and closer to her chair that was still faced away from him. Angela toyed with the chain of her necklace, losing the battle of trying to appear calm.

"I see," she squeaked out.

"I've even got..." Dwight looked around him to make sure the coast was clear before whispering: "Excel spreadsheets."

She let out a tiny gasp.

"Ten seconds, Angela," Meredith said into the mic.

"Give me a MOMENT," Angela snapped back, swiveling her chair around sharply to face Dwight.

"Supply closet in ten minutes?"

"Make it five," she hissed.

Dwight gave a tight but insinuating smile before dashing out of the booth and down the hall.

Angela threw her headphones back on in the nick of time.

"And we're back."

xxx

"And that's what's happening on the Indie scene; mark your calendars for those concert dates, you won't want to miss them. I know I'll be there but that's hey, that's a perk of being a DJ: a bunch of free stuff just for rambling on the radio. It's okay to be jealous, folks, don't let that stop you from calling in. Seriously, don't make me look bad on my first day, my mom is listening. Now here's Toby with the morning traffic; go easy on him, it's not his fault the 307 is a mess."

Jim waited for Pam to patch Toby through, but noticed her hand circling over her yellow legal pad, only stopping to tuck stray curls behind her ears.

"Pam?" he asked gently, her name finally grabbing her attention. She winced and quickly punched the correct buttons, putting Toby through.

Jim opened the door to her booth and poked his head in.

"You okay?"

"I am so so sorry, I didn't mean to-I honestly don't know why I can't concentrate," she buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. "It won't happen again, I promise."

Jim didn't say anything, merely walked over to her desk and pointed at the piece of paper.

"What are you drawing?"

"Oh, umm..." Pam blushed, conceding the drawing. "I made Andy into a comic book villain. His cape is caught in the shredder."

"That is classic. Do you always take out your anger this way?"

Pam shrugged. "It's something to pass the time. I did some more serious stuff in college but..." she waved her hand, dismissing her train of thought.

"Well, you're good," Jim said sincerely, his smile making Pam immediately reply with one of her own.

"Oh, five seconds," she said suddenly, grabbing her headphones as Jim dashed back into his booth.

"Okay, Toby, thanks for that. Now it's time for my personal favorite part of the show: ‘Jim's Joke Stop.' Remember, I am not condoning the use of these pranks in any way, shape, or form. I am merely sharing my wealth of knowledge with you listeners. What you do with it is up to you. That being said, the joke of the day is ‘Nickel and Dimed' as I so affectionately refer to it. All you need for this one is a handheld phone and all that spare change you find under the couch..."

Pam watched him from her booth, delighting in how alive he became when placed in front of a microphone. He was different than the others; he seemed to find a way to form an immediate and unrequited friendship with an audience he couldn't even see. She smiled to herself, thinking that this might just be what the station needed to get Scranton to start listening.

"Mhmm," she murmured, her eyes still searching the cabinets.

"Do you think he's too tall? I think he's too tall." Kevin's voice dripped out slowly, drilling the low, monotone syllables right into Pam's nerves.

"Uhh, yeah, pretty tall, I guess." She was proud for remaining so non-chalant, storing her real feelings about his height (and everything else for that matter) for the next time her mom asked her about work.

"Who do you think would win if I got in a fight with him?" Pam began to roll her eyes at the obviousness of the answer, but one look at Kevin told her that the few remaining scraps of his pride were riding on her answer to the question.

"Between you and me, Kev," she whispered, looking around for eavesdroppers in an over-exaggerated way. "I think you could take him."

Kevin beamed and puffed out his chest slightly just as Kelly walked in.

"Hey Kelly, Pam thinks I could beat up the new guy."

"Who? Jim? Please. Your only hope of winning would be to sit on him. Pam, how could you even think that? He's pretty cute you know, and now that you're single-"

"Kelly," Pam made a quick cutting motion to her neck, signaling that it would be a good idea to stop talking, if that was even possible. "Let's not go there."

"But I'm just saying you-"

"What are talking we about?" Pam felt her face flush as of course, Jim chose this moment to walk into the kitchen.

"How you and--" Kelly started to say before Pam quickly cut her off.

"Kevin would make for an interesting fight!"

Kevin's smile slowly widened. "Yeah. Pam thinks I could beat you up."

Jim's eyebrows shot up in surprise towards Pam, his face spreading into a smirk.

"Oh, really? I thought you had more loyalty than that, Beesly."

She stood there, stunned with a dopey smile on her face as she heard him say her last name with such warmth and a subtle undertone of affection.

It was a nickname.

A sharp jab in the ribs from Kelly's elbow alerted her to the now silent room staring at her, waiting for a reply of some kind. Jim looked proud of himself; amusement hanging from the corners of his upturned mouth.

"Oh...yeah, well. You're the new guy, so, I haven't seen what you can...do." She kicked herself internally at her complete lack of articulation, but her fumbling seemed to only make Jim grin broader.

"Excellent point. You're right. Kev, come on, you and me. Let's go," Jim threw up two fists, playfully jabbing the air in front of him. Kevin joined in the fun, standing up and throwing his body into various kung-fu positions, causing the room to roar in laughter.

"He's adjusting really well, isn't he?" Pam said quietly to Kelly, watching as the two grown-men continued to play-fight.

"Yeah, and to think Michael didn't want to hire him."

xxx

"Jim, I want you to know, I always wanted to hire you."

"Oh, umm, okay. Thanks."

"I mean, seriously, don't listen to Jan. She's on medication for...everything. Anyway," Michael cleared his throat, leaning on the edge of his desk, attempting to tower himself over a seated Jim. "The point is, we're glad to have you here. You're doing great. Listener counts are up, we're getting more hits on the website."

"That's great."

"I'm not done. Unfortunately, those phone lines are quieter than a woman having sex with Toby."

"Wow," Jim shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"So! I'm instituting a new segment on your Friday show called ‘What's up, Doc?' You'll have a highly trained therapist, a personal friend of mine, on the air to take people's calls, let them tell their sob stories, and offer up his advice." Michael wagged his eyebrows, looking at Jim to share his moment of brilliance.

"Okay, so...what would I be doing exactly?"

"Umm, you know, say hello. Make the people feel welcome. We're paying this guy like, a lot of money to do this, so you should really just let him talk."

Jim frowned, but realized there was no sense in arguing with a man wearing a South Park tie. "But, just Fridays right?"

"Abo-lutely. The rest of the week is yours to talk to yourself, Giant Stay Puft Jim Man."

Jim forced a smile and stood up to leave. "Thanks, Michael."

"Hey, don't thank me. Thank Dr. Todd for being able to get away from rehab on such short notice."

"I'm sorry, what?"

xxx

"Okay, we've got Melissa on line 2. Melissa, go ahead, you're on the air with...Dr. Todd," Jim said through gritted teeth.

"Hi Jim, umm, I love your show."

"Thanks Melissa, I appreciate it."

"I'm sorry, did you have a question for me, sweetheart?" Dr. Todd interrupted, impatience seething through his voice.

Pam kept her eyes trained on the board in front of her, allowing herself a quick eye-roll that she hoped no one could see.

"Oh, sorry. Umm, my mother-in-law keeps interfering in my marriage, and I was wondering-"

"How long have you two been married?" Dr. Todd interrupted yet again.

"Six months."

"Six months?!? Listen babe, take it from someone who's been married a time or two in his day, if you're already startin' to complain at six months, this ain't gonna last."

"Dr. Todd, please-" Jim started, throwing a pleading look to Pam.

"I'm tellin' you, none of my marriages lasted longer than six months because all of them started whinin' and complainin'..."

"Huh. Can't imagine why," Pam said. It was when she heard a long silence in her headphones that she realized both Dr. Todd and Jim had heard her, each staring at her in shock; one looking quite angry, the other looking immensely pleased.

"Pam? Did you want to say something?" Jim encouraged, his eager eyes telling her to continue.

She swallowed hard and took the mute off of her microphone.

"Hey Melissa? Listen, is your husband an only child?"

"Yes, actually, he is. How did you know?"

"Only children tend to have these kinds of mothers. She's used to being the only woman in his life, calling the shots, looking out for what's best for him. Just keep in mind that she's only doing it because she cares, not to be annoying or to try and sabotage things. Plus you said you've only been married six months? Things are still new; she's probably waiting for that ax to fall so that she can come to the rescue for him. This is your chance to show her that you are a strong, capable wife who can work little problems out with her son without her help."

"Wow, that...that makes sense. Who...who am I talking to again?"

"Oh, umm, I'm Pam. Just the board operator," she said weakly, the empowerment she felt while giving advice slowly dwindling as she remembered her place.

"Pam, thank you so much. And thanks Jim!"

"You're...you're welcome," Jim said, still staring at Pam with pride. "Umm, we have to take a break but we'll be right back with more of your calls."

Jim hit mute as Pam began the commercials, shyly meeting his gaze.

"Who the hell is she?" Dr. Todd shouted, his head jerking towards her as she now cowered her head towards her legal pad.

Jim smiled. "She's my new co-host."

Jim tried to keep relatively calm while he waited for Pam to return from her meeting with Michael, assuring himself that the deer-caught-in-headlights look Michael gave him just before they left meant nothing. He made himself busy by cleaning the booth, organizing files, researching topics for the next show. But he was happy to see his brother's caller ID on his cell phone as a way to kill more time.

"Hey man."

"Wow, way to blatantly flirt with your co-host."

"Shut up."

"Do you always pour your heart out on air or was this just ‘Jim Halpert in the Morning: The Emo Edition.'"

Jim rolled his eyes and laughed. "Thank you for your support, Sam, I appreciate it."

"So is she hot? She sounds hot."

"I am so not having this conversation with you right now."

"So tonight at Poor Richards then?"

Jim paused, glancing around him to see if anyone was in earshot. "I'll see you at 7."

"Alright, big bro, that's what I'm talkin' about!"

"And Mom wonders why you're single." Just then, Jim caught a glimpse of a blue cardigan down the length of the hallway, making its way towards the booth.

"Hey, I've gotta go."

"Why? Is your girlfriend around?"

"See, I don't know how you'll be able to get into the bar tonight since you're apparently only thirteen," Jim shut the phone closed, abruptly ending Sam's shouts of protest. He turned his attention back to Pam but his smile quickly vanished when he saw her: a slight hunch in her shoulders and a downcast expression that brought his anxiety rushing back.

"Hey," he said, sprinting out of his chair to meet her in the hall. "Is everything okay? What was the meeting about?"

"What?" she asked, obviously distracted. "Oh, nothing, it's fine. He just needed some stats about the show." She smiled weakly, and Jim's worry continued to escalate.

"Okay...well, cool. Hey, I've got some topics for tomorrow's show, want to hear them?"
"Umm, okay..."

Jim ignored the uncertainty in her voice and pressed on, flipping through his notes.

"Okay, here's one: ‘Cugino's Pizza: Love it or leave it?'" He searched her face for any sign of amusement.

"Yeah, you're right, it's dumb. Alright, uhh, there's always ‘Movies on the Weekend: Fun or Overdone?'"

Pam once again was silent, giving only a forced smile to show that she was listening.

"Wow, tough crowd. One last one, ‘Men Who Cook: Risky or Romantic?'"

"You know, I really ought to be getting home," Pam said quickly, fumbling as she gathered her things. "I've got a cat and she gets cranky if she's left alone for too long..."

"Oh, okay..." Jim said, hurt weighing heavily on his voice. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"You bet, bright and early." Pam collected the rest of her things from her booth and walked quickly down the hall, seeming to ignore the small wave he gave her as she passed by.

xxx

"Alright, Big Fresca, what have we learned here today?"

"Only use the printer in case of emergency," Ryan repeated, his lack of enthusiasm oblivious to his "mentor."

"That's right. These ink cartridges are muy expensivo. Just write stuff out by hand if you really need it. Whoa, whoa, whoa," Andy stopped abruptly shoved his arm out in front of Ryan, causing him to stumble into it . "Chick marsala, extra spicy, 2 o'clock."

Kelly was sifting through her mailbox, completely unaware of the leering going on behind her.

"Kel-lay. Checking your mail, huh?"

"Mhmm," she murmured absently, re-folding her multi-page Visa bill.

"That's cool. Oh wait, hold on, I think you're getting a telegram. Signed, sealed, delivered, I'm yooours," Andy sang in a pitch that only dogs could hear.

"For the last time, Andy, I-oh my God," Kelly stared at Ryan, the rest of her mail falling to the ground.

Ryan stayed silent for an awkward few seconds before stooping to pick up the abandoned mail.

"Here, I'll get that-"

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that-"

"That's my hand."

"Oops, my mistake," Kelly said, still holding on to it as she stood up, bringing him along with her. "I'm Kelly."

"Okay, well, we better get going. Lots of mentoring to do, we can't dilly-dally," Andy interrupted, tearing Ryan's hand away from the giggling mess in pink. "Kelly Kapowski, catch ya' later."

With that, Andy forcefully led Ryan around the corner before shoving him into the men's bathroom.

"Whoa, hey-" Ryan began, staring at the index finger that was thrust in his face.

"Listen to me, intern. There's only room at this station for one Zach Morris. And that guy is me."

Ryan began to give in, but decided to take advantage of a golden opportunity.

"So, can I be Slater?"

"No, Michael is Slater."

"How about Mr. Belding?"

Andy considered the suggestion. "No, that's more Dwight. You can be Screech."

Ryan merely nodded, breathing a little easier as he watched Andy relax and straighten his tie.

"I'm glad we understand each other. Ooo, look at that. Lunch time. You hungry? Let's go to the caf', they have chocolate milk on Thursdays."

xxx

"Hey," Kevin's voice broke the silence at the lunch table, Oscar and Angela looking at him with vague interest. "What if Michael doesn't do it? Then we all lose our jobs..."

"Please. Michael may be an idiot, but he's not stupid enough to lose three DJs over a board operator," Angela said with a scowl.

"I don't know, I think Jim will put up a fight," Oscar said. "He seems pretty attached to her."

"If by ‘attached' you mean ‘unashamedly lusting after.' The only thing Jim wants to get in the middle of is her undoubtedly sullied bed sheets."

Her comment immediately produced a slow train of snickers, and Angela didn't have to look know the source.

"I just don't want to have to look for a job again," Oscar said, picking at his salad. "No one's going to want to hire a middle-aged travel agent."

"You're not even 40," Angela said without a hint of sympathy.

"Still," Oscar shifted uncomfortably. "The rules are different for...people like me."

Kevin looked between Angela and Oscar. "You mean...Mexicans?"

"Kevin, that's rude," Angela scolded, taking a sip of her tea. "He meant homosexuals."

"HEY!"

“Good morning!  It’s 6:00 am on the dot here at WYDM and it is quite the beautiful morning.  Though, it will be a lot more beautiful after my first cup of coffee, that’s for sure.  We’ve got lots of material to cover today:  The best unknown bars in the area, because sometimes you want to go where no one knows your name;  the worst ways you’ve been dumped, a good lesson in what not to do; and later we’ll talk to the guy who holds the record for most number of hours spent on YouTube.  Trust me, it’ll make you feel better about your lack of a social life, it certainly did for me. Pam and I want to thank you for joining us at this early hour.”

A long silence followed, Jim waiting for Pam to chime in.  Instead, he found her leaning back in her chair, absently flipping through a magazine.

“Pam?  Our listeners are waiting to hear that voice of yours to start their morning off right.”

Still, she kept reading the magazine, a bitter tuft of air escaping her lips as her only response.

“Okay, we seem to be having some technical difficulties with her mic, we’ll try and get that working.  In the meantime, we’ve got some traffic and news updates for you.  Stay put, this is Jim and Pam in the Morning.”  Jim muted his mic and stared at Pam, willing her to look up.  When she never did, he grudgingly strolled into her booth, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed.

“What was that about?”

Pam continued to read, giving a small shrug.  “Don’t want to intrude on your show.”

“You mean ‘our’ show.”

She slammed the magazine closed and tossed it on her desk.  “No, I mean your show.  You’re the big guns from Philly, you’re the guy with all the answers, you’re the guy who doesn’t need a co-host.  That’s fine.”  She stood quickly and pushed past him, speeding down the hall.  Jim trailed behind her.

“What are you talking about?  When did I ever say—“

“You didn’t say, that’s the problem.” Pam spun around angrily, shoving a finger into his chest.  “Don’t send Michael to do your dirty work for you.  I now have to live with the image of seeing that man cry and trust me, it’s not pretty.”

Jim grabbed her arm to keep her from speeding off again.

“What did Michael say?”

“You should know,” Pam shot back, trying to wriggle her arm free.  “You’re the one that told him to demote me.”

“What?  Pam, I never told him to do that!  You’re amazing, why would I want to demote you?”

His choice of words in describing her had stunned her silent for a moment.

“DJ.  An amazing DJ,” he corrected quickly.  “I almost quit my job because you couldn’t be my co-host, remember?  And I’ll do it again.”  He started to march off to Michael’s office to do just that when Pam’s voice beckoned him back.

“You can’t.  Michael’s got you under contract.  Apparently that little legal matter slipped his mind the last time you threatened him.”

“Who cares?”

“Stations you try to work for will care.”  Her tone had softened but her disappointment was painfully visible in her eyes.  “Look, don’t worry about it, okay?  I was a board operator for a long time before I was a DJ, I can go right back to it.”

Jim’s head reeled trying to think of a way around the serious problem at hand.  Losing Pam as a DJ was one thing but losing any chance of developing a relationship with her other than a professional one was something he refused to let happen.

xxx

“Space Jan, what can I do you for?  Uhh---for you.  What can I do for you?”

“Michael, I’m listening to Jim’s show right now—“

“Good stuff, right?  A little too vanilla for my taste, but people seem to like him so…”

“I’m calling actually about Pam and her role on the show.”

“Already took care of it.  The rest of the gang told me that she was just getting in the way so I put the ka-bosh on that one.  No need to thank me.  I mean, thank me if you want to but—“

“Wait, you fired her?”

“No, God no, she’s the best!  I just demoted her—“

“You what?!?”

“Back to board operator.  I know, it shows a great deal of leadership and a professionalistic attitude and I heartily accept—“

“Michael, she brought in listeners!  The counts shot up once she got on the air, people love the dynamic between her and Jim, it’s in all the surveys!”

Michael groaned.  “Jan, I don’t know what you want me to do!  I had half my staff threaten to quit if I didn’t demote her!”

There was a hiss on the other end of the line, presumably Jan letting out one of her frequent agitated sighs.  

“I will come down there tomorrow and figure all of this out.”

“No, Jan, I can take care of this.”

“You’ve done enough.  I’ll be there at 10:00 am.  Please make sure Jim and Pam stay after their show.”

A dial tone ensued, leaving Michael staring at the phone with worry before letting his head fall to his desk with a whimper.

xxx

The WYDM staff gathered in the conference room the next morning promptly at ten.  The tension was palpable as many of the DJs shot steely glances in Pam’s direction, with the board operators glaring right back in defense.  Michael paced the front of the room nervously, glancing at the door for any sign of his undoubtedly irritated boss.

“Look, while we wait for Jan to get here, are there any questions?”

Angela shot her hand up.  “Why are we here?”

“We have to wait for Jan to get here before I can answer that.  Anyone else?  Yes, Dwight?”

“Do you use anti-perspirant?”

“What?”

“I noticed some dark stains around your underarm region.  You may want to consider getting prescription strength deodorant in order to stop the unusually heavy amount of sweat you seem to be accumulating—“

“Will you just shut---Ah, Jan!  Jan Levinson, everybody!”  Michael started to clap at her entrance, only getting Andy and Dwight to join in with him while the rest of the group remained sullen.

“I know you’re all wondering why I called this meeting,” Jan began.  “I’m here to clear the air about certain job shifts that have recently taken place.”

Pam felt her face begin to burn and she slunk down further in her seat.  Jim, who had nearly knocked Oscar over in order to sit next to her, placed a tentative hand on her knee.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered.

“WYDM prides itself on being one of the most progressive radio stations in the area,” Jan began.  “We are constantly adapting to changes in our community and demographic in order to provide the best entertainment and news possible.  This includes the readjustment of certain roles in this station if that readjustment is in the best interest of the station and its listeners.  That being said, if there are any concerns with these changes, now is the time to voice them.”

“El Capitan, if I may,” Andy spoke up, standing and straightening his tie.  “I think what the board operators are trying to do is appalling and disgraceful….and appalling.”  He turned toward Kelly, his expression softening.  “I think we have some amazing talent here at this station, and why mess with perfection?”  He gave a not-so-subtle wink, Kelly rolling her eyes and shifting away from him in her seat.  Never one for defeat, Andy continued.  “I will do whatever it takes to keep these rebels from taking over.  You know why?   Because I…ain’t too proud to beg, sweet darlin’, please don’t—“ he began to sing, snapping and swaying to the beat.

“Andy,” Michael said between clenched teeth.  “Ix-nay on the inging-say.”

“Right-o, boss.”

“As much as it pains me to say it, I agree with Andy,” Angela said.  “We’ve all worked really hard to get to where we are today and it hardly seems fair that some college drop out gets a spot on the morning show just for flaunting herself in front of her superior.”

“Whoa, guys—“ Michael started to interject but was quickly cut off by a booming Phyllis.

“What’s the matter, Angela?  Afraid of someone giving real advice and stealing all of your listeners?”

“Excuse me?”

“Guys, I think we’re getting off track—“

“Ugg boots were mentioned on my show! And that just cannot be!  It is wrong and cruel and everything that is wrong in this world!” Kelly stomped her foot like a petulant child.

“Oh my God, Kelly, shut up!  Your entire wardrobe is made of pink polyester, what the hell do you know about fashion!” Meredith sneered.

Kevin opened a bag of potato chips and grinned.  “Cat fight.”

 “Should I get the mud?”  Creed asked.

“ENOUGH!”  Jan bellowed, all eyes quickly turning to her.  “Let’s take five, reconvene, and no one is leaving until we figure this out.”  With a hand to her head, she stormed out of the conference room, Michael giving his employees one last look of despair before following closely behind her.

Those left in the conference room stood in bewilderment, awkward and unsure of what to do.  Angela finally stood and high-tailed it towards the break room and soon most everyone followed close behind her.  Jim began to leave but noticed Pam still low in her chair, staring at nothing in particular.

He mustered up a bit of courage and took his seat back next to her.  They sat that way for a few moments, neither one talking but not feeling a need to do so until Jim finally spoke.

“Such a troublemaker.”

He snuck a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, and though she did not look at him, he could see the faintest hint of a smile peeking from the corner of her mouth.

“Whoa-ho, where you goin’ there little Pamama Canal?”

“Work,” Pam mumbled, trying to elude Andy’s blocking of the hallway to no avail.

“Wait just a minute, let me see if that’s in your itinerary for the day…” Andy flipped open an imaginary notebook and began to “flip” through the pages.  Pam tapped her foot impatiently, wishing for once in her life that looks really could kill.

“Let’s see…get coffee, admire Andy, check mail, admire Andy some more…nope!  Says nothin’ in here about working.”  He tucked the invisible notebook securely in his coat pocket.  “But it does say something about a meeting with the head honcho.”

“Michael?  He didn’t mention—“

“He’s a busy man, Pam.  No time to send messages to the little people.  That’s what I’m here for.”

“Funny, I thought you were to, you know, produce,” Pam hissed the last word, her irritation with not just him but the entire world folded menacingly into the two syllables.

“I’m a jack-of-all trades.  Now get to scootin’ little Pamama Party!”

Pam squinted in confusion.

“Pamama.  Like ‘pajama party’?  God, why does no one get me?”  Andy groaned.

“Beats me.  Can I go now?”

“Uhh, what have I been trying to do for the last five minutes?  Yes, go, move!”

Pam needed no further prodding as she finally pushed her way past him and moved hastily to Michael’s office.

After a moment, Jim poked his head out from his booth.

“Is she gone?”

“Yep.  She should be occupied for a couple hours if Michael does his thang.”

“Excellent.”  Jim took out his wallet and grabbed a ten-dollar bill.

“Excuse me, sir.  But this Saint Bernard does not heel for Mr. Hamilton.  Does anyone even remember when he was president?”

Jim bit his lip to suppress a smile.  “No…no, I sure don’t.  Now Lincoln,” he let out a long whistle.  “There was a president.”

Andy looked off into the distance, a wistful expression settling on his face.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

Jim slowly took out a five-dollar bill and while Andy was still deep in thought, he slipped the bill into his hand.

“Thanks again.”

Jim’s voice brought Andy back from his daydreams.  “Anytime, bro.”  He slipped the bill into his pocket without giving it a second glance.  

“Anytime.”

xxx

“Pamchop, can I just say how sorry I am for yesterday’s…incident in the conference room?  I swear, I had no idea Jan was just going to bail like that.  Is it safe for women to drive that fast in heels?  Anyway, really, from the bottom of my heart--”

“No, really, it’s fine.”

“But see, it isn’t fine.  Because you are like, a daughter—no, you’re like my really cool niece who buys me Converse and tells me about all the cool bands and introduces me to her hot English teacher.”

“What are you—I don’t have an English teacher, Michael.”

“No, I know that, I just—“ Michael rubbed his lips together in frustration, eyeing the clock on the wall.  He’d been instructed by Jim to keep her busy for two hours and so far he’d managed to occupy five minutes, most of that taken up with apologies.

“Again, I am truly, truly—“

“Sorry.  I get it.  Thank you.  Apology accepted.  May I leave?”

Michael’s eyes lit up at her tone of voice, pouncing on the opportunity.  “Is that any way to talk to your boss?  Huh?  After everything I’ve given you and shared with you, you just snap at me like that?  Not cool,” he shook his head.  “Not cool.”

Pam let out a groan low in her throat.  “I’m sorry.  Now can I go?”

“Nope.  I want you to sit there.  And think.  About your tone.”

“I have work—“

“Shhh.  That’s not important right now.  What’s important is this,” he gestured between them.  “Sometimes Uncle Mike has to lay down the law.”

“How long do I have to sit here?”

Michael once again eyed the clock.  “An hour and fifty minutes.”

“What?”

“Your time begins now.”

xxx

“Okay folks, here’s the deal:  I don’t ask a lot from you, right?  A call every now and then, maybe an e-mail to let me know how I’m doing, nothing big.  Now, I really need your help.  Long story short, Pam isn’t my co-host anymore.  I know, it sucks.  Believe me, no one is more upset about this than I am; it’s like a Lifetime movie over here.  Anyway, I think there’s still a way that we can get her back on the air, but it’s going to require a lot of support from you guys.  If you go to my page on the WYDM website, you’ll find an online petition.  This petition would allow not only Pam to get back on the air, but for all of our board operators to have fair and equal participation in what we broadcast.  So go, right now, and sign it.  If you’re in the car, wait for a red-light and bust out that iPhone or Sidekick or whatever kind of cell device you kids are using these days and go online from there.  Don’t lie to me, I know you all have Internet access.  In the meantime, I’ve got some great petition-signing music coming up for you here in just a little bit.  You’re listening to Jim and soon-to-be Pam in the Morning, we’ll be right back.”

Jim punched the commercials through and leaned back in his chair with a large sigh.  The effort to get Pam back was exhausting yet invigorating all at the same time.  This had gone far past the point of business; this was deeply personal, and any shot he had with Pam would vanish if he failed to come through.  He studied the online petition obsessively, hitting the refresh button and watched as name after name be added by the second.

xxx

“And in the third grade, I had a crush on Susie Hammerstein.  Man, she rocked those pig-tails—“

“Okay, an hour and fifty minutes are up.  I’m out of here,” Pam said, gathering her purse and heading for the door when Michael leapt in front of her.

“You can’t leave!”

“What the hell is going on?” Pam was at the breaking point, the stress of the last few weeks becoming too much as she dealt with consequences of getting personal feelings in the way of business.

“I just—stay for a few more minutes.  We still have sixth grade to get to and that was a year for girls.  That’s when they really started to develop—“

“That’s it, I’m done.”  Pam began to pry Michael away from the door when it suddenly burst open to reveal Jim, breathless and radiating with excitement.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“Dude, I know I’m a good entertainer, but two hours is way too much without an intermission.  I’ve had to pee like a racehorse ever since she came in.”

“Can you wait?  I need you to see this.”  Jim planted himself at Michael’s desk and typed furiously.

“Already?”  Michael asked.  “But it’s only been—“

“A couple hours, I know, but ever since I announced it on air—“

“Announced what on air?”  Pam asked, completely lost as she looked between the two of them.

“Look.  We’ve got almost a thousand signatures.  Give it another hour or so and we’ll have enough.”

“Can’t argue with you there, Not-Tiny Jim.  Get it? Like in that book by that one guy—“

Michael was silenced by the sound of a small train whistle ringing loudly in the office.  Both men winced and looked at Pam with incredulity.

“Sorry,” she said, taking the wooden whistle from her mouth and placing it back on Michael’s desk.  “I didn’t know how else to get your attention.  Someone please please tell me what’s going on.”

Michael and Jim looked at each other, and Michael backed away slowly with his hands up.

“This was your idea, Jim.  I’m just the diversion.”

Pam looked directly at Jim, the most eye contact they’d had in days as she waited for an answer.

“I started a petition online to keep you as my co-host.  The rest of the staff might not listen to us, but they’ll listen to the fans.  Without the audience they have no show, and from the looks of it, without you, that audience is going to stop listening.”  Jim turned the monitor towards her to reveal the long list of names that continued to grow.  Pam stared in shock.

“How—I don’t—are you sure this will work?”

Jim shrugged.  “It might.  It might not.  But no way in hell was I going to let Angela of all people run you out of a job.”  He offered a genuine smile to her and she reciprocated, happiness flushing her face at once as she pulled him into an embrace.

“Thank you,” she breathed into his sweater.  Jim’s smile grew and he tightened his arms around her.

“You’re welcome.”

“Ahem,” Michael cleared his throat.  Jim and Pam looked to find an audience at the door, consisting of Andy, Dwight, and the rest of the staff, looks of curiosity and revulsion scattered among the faces.

“Well guys,” Jim said, releasing Pam and clapping his hands.  “As much fun as this little tiff has been, how about we just accept what our listeners are telling us and call it a day.  Anyone up for Poor Richard’s tonight?  I’m buying a round.”

Meredith’s fist pumped up from the throng of people who murmured in agreement.  All except for one.

“No!  Just because a few measly people decide to become activists, all of a sudden we’re going to completely change the way this station operates?”  Angela’s voice raised to a new octave.  “I say we abandon this pit of lust and lies and form our own station!  We’ll be the beacon of light in an otherwise dark world!  We’ll be the harps in airwaves full of grunge rock!  We shall overcome!  Who’s with me?!”

Nothing but silence followed and Angela grudgingly accepted her fate.

“Fine.  But someone else gets to be the D.D.”

xxx

“So I’ve been thinking,” Pam said, swiveling on her barstool with glee.  “I don’t know if I like the name of our show.”

“Oh?  And what exactly is wrong with it?”

“It’s so plain.  ‘Jim and Pam in the Morning.’  It’s just so…bleh.”

“Very technical term you’ve used there, Beesly,”  Jim rolled his eyes with a laugh.  “So what would you suggest?”

“Well, we are the morning show, so…”  she drummed her fingers on the bar.  “I’ve got it!”

“Let’s hear this stroke of genius.”

“Toast with Jam,” she grinned broadly, waiting for the joke to settle.  Jim burst with laughter and soon they were both in hysterics.

“Yes, absolute—wait, actually, no.  I don’t think so.”

Pam frowned.  “Why not?”

“I don’t know, it’s just not right.  We’re definitely going to have to give this some thought over the weekend.”

Pam gave a shy smile as she sensed what he was getting at.  

“Oh really?”

“Yep.  It’s going to require long hours.  Lunch, dinner, coffee…we may even have to meet for Sunday brunch.”

“Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  You don’t get to Sunday brunch on the first date, sir.”

Jim’s eyes softened as he looked at her more seriously.  “So, is that a yes?”

Pam nodded, her smile growing wider as she looked away and took a sip of her drink.

“Alright then.  Speaking of toast, I think this definitely calls for one.”

“What should we toast to?”  Pam asked, raising her half-empty mug.

“How about pits of grunge rock?  Or was it airwaves of lust and lies?”

“No, no, something that doesn’t include fire and brimstone.”

Jim thought for a moment and then raised his glass to meet hers.  

“To the Big Guns from Scranton.”

Pam smiled and clinked the glass together.

“Cheers.”

xxx

“Can you believe what Jim did for Pam?  Is that not just the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life?”  Kelly tugged on Ryan’s sleeve, trying desperately to hold his attention.

“Yeah.  Great.  Whoa, look at that, it’s getting late—“

“No way!  You promised you’d buy me a drink.  Remember?  Remember that?”

Ryan rolled his eyes and reached for his wallet.

“Weird, I don’t think I have any cash…”

“Are you kidding me?  What kind of guy doesn’t carry cash?  Are you lying to me?  Are you just trying to get out of buying me a drink?  Because let me tell you something—“  Kelly stopped as a five dollar bill whipped in front of her face.

“Barkeep, the little lady can have whatever she desires,”  Andy said, sliding the bill across towards the bartender.  “Big Tab, don’t  you have some midterms to study for?  Hit the road, Adam Brody-wannabe.”

Ryan shook his head and left the bar, a soft “whatever” muttered under his breath.  Kelly, in complete awe, turned to Andy.

“That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life ever.  You watch ‘The O.C.’?”

Andy winked.  “6 o’clock.  Every night on Soapnet.”

That was all Kelly needed to hear as she lunged herself into his arms.  Andy stroked her back and gave a nod to Lincoln’s portrait.

“Thank you, Mr. President,” he whispered.  “It’s time to four-score.”