March 4, 2002, 8:54 AM:

 

For some reason, I really didn’t want to come to work today. And I wouldn’t have come in at all but I have to save up all of my vacation days for the Florida road trip with Dwight. Seriously, our plans are awesome. We’re driving down, of course. Still have to decide whose car we’re taking. As much as Dwight loves his Trans-Am, I doubt that it would make it down and back without breaking down along I-95. Anyway, we have several stops planned along the way: Marvin Johnson’s Gourd Collection, South of the Border, Savannah, St. Augustine, places like that. Dwight apparently got us a really good deal at a hotel in Miami… we’ll see about that once we get there.

 

Today is Monday. Today is the first day for our new receptionist. Tomorrow will be the last day for our new receptionist. I mean, since Jenny retired a month ago, we’ve practically had a new receptionist each week. They just can’t take Michael, and Michael basically can’t take them. Yeah, he’s strict and everything, but it’s their job to be at their desk to answer the phone and not be gossiping in the kitchen. Okay, Michael shouldn’t have yelled at and then fired Claire after she left the desk to put in her contact lens back in.

 

And Michael could have been more sympathetic when Kristy was late due to a family emergency. You know what? Michael just needs to calm down. He takes his job way too seriously. I mean, it’s a Northeastern Pennsylvania-based mid-size paper company. It’s not NASA or Microsoft. I probably would have been fired a long time ago if it wasn’t for Dwight. Out of all the people in the office, Dwight is the only one that Michael actually likes, which is good for me since Dwight’s my best friend.

 

Speaking of Dwight, look who just walked in. Heh… someone definitely didn’t get enough sleep last night.

 

“Morning, Dwight.” I have to give him a smirk.

 

“Shut up, Halpert,” he replies as he gets to his desk. After looking at his phone for few moments, he looks at me. “I had a long night.”

 

“I figured. What’s her name?” Seconds later, a pen flies past my head. “Ya missed!”

 

“You know that I haven’t dated since Margaret.”

 

“Maggie.”

 

“Margaret.”

 

“Dwight, you do realize that that’s one of the reasons she broke up with you.” I hate his death glare. “I’m joking, man. Joking. You calling her ‘Margaret’ was the least of the problems.” And here comes another pen.

 

“Why are we friends?” He turns on his computer.

 

“Um… maybe because I’m the only one that can stand you?” He’s really going to run out of pens and I’m definitely not going to retrieve them.

 

“Michael can stand me…”

 

“Yes, but would you bring Michael along with you on a road trip to Florida?”

 

“Of course not. First off, he would think it’s a waste of time. Secondly, he wouldn’t take a road trip, he would insist on flying since it’s more efficient. Third, he would scare away all the ladies. And lastly, he would want to talk about paper products the entire time.”

 

“Wow… you put way too much thought into that.”

 

“Yeah.” He glances at Michael’s office. “Is he in?”

 

“He’s in the conference room with Toby and the new receptionist. They were talking to her before I got here.”

 

“Michael’s probably grilling the poor girl.” He looks to me. “Jim.”

 

“Dwight.”

 

“The whole receptionist thing is really aggravating Michael, so we should really try to make sure that this one stays.”

 

“Sure thing.”

 

“Jim, I mean it. We need to help her in any way we can. And you, sir, should not be playing any pranks on her.”

 

“Aww… but the pranks are harmless.”

 

“Yeah, after knowing you for a while, but the first day? Not a good idea.” Dwight’s about twelve years older than me; he’s very much like an older brother. He knows when to mess around but he also knows when to take things seriously. Apparently now would be one of those “serious” times.

 

“Fine, Dwight. No pranks today. I promise.”

 

March 5, 2002, 11:36 AM:

 

“… thus, the percentage of the discount will depend on how long the customer has been with Dunder-Mifflin and how much the customer orders.” I look up at my new boss to see if he’s finished talking. I didn’t realize that transcribing would be part of my responsibilities as a receptionist, but apparently it is… along with other duties. Why did I decide to get a job? Hmmm… let’s see, maybe because I have a wedding to plan and my fiancée and I have very little cash to do it with. Maybe because Roy would rather buy a new big screen television than save up money for the wedding. Maybe because I was going stir-crazy just sitting at the house all day. Maybe… anyways, I think you get the point. Unfortunately when I mentioned getting a job, Roy automatically mentioned that this receptionist position was open. Here. At the same place that he works. Now, I love Roy. I wouldn’t marry him if I didn’t, but I really don’t want to see him 24/7.

 

Oh, looks like Michael is kicking me out of his office to type up this letter to the sales staff. Yeah, the sales staff. Whole different story than Michael. You have Stanley and Phyllis who talk to each other constantly. Stanley is always talking about his daughters and Phyllis is always talking about knitting or something inane like that. How those two do work is beyond me. Michelle and Roger are in the back so I don’t really speak to them much, but I do know that Michelle just gave birth since the first thing she did was show me a picture of her son. Gotta say… ugliest baby in the world. Roger, on the other hand, just got through a divorce so he was hitting on me the first time I met him. Yeah, I’m very happy that those two are in the Annex.

 

Then, the last two sales reps: Dwight Schrute and Jim Halpert. Apparently, the two are best friends. They seem like night and day, but I look over there and they’re smiling and laughing together. Dwight’s kind of like that nerd in high school that you befriend because you feel sorry for them. Like Screech from “Saved by the Bell.” He’s just a bit off. When the two introduced themselves to me, he said that he was the Assistant Regional Manager. Jim shook his head to convince me otherwise. Okay, now to Jim… he seems like a nice guy. He gets along with everyone in the office, except maybe Michael, but that’s probably a whole other can of worms. But for some reason, there’s something about Jim that I just can’t put my finger on. And that something makes me not like him. At. All. Is it his hair? Or the way he laughs? Or the looks that he gives me? I don’t know what it is but it just bugs me. I usually don’t judge people before getting to really know them, but at the moment, I don’t want to get to know Jim Halpert.

 

“Excuse me, Pam?” I look up from the computer screen to see Angela, the head accountant, on the other side of my desk.

 

“Yes, Angela?”

 

“I’m head of the party planning committee here and I was wondering if you would like to join. “ She smiles at me. “It’s always nice to have fresh ideas. Plus, it would help you get to know everyone else better.”

 

She’s so nice. I mean, really? She’s way too nice. It’s like if sugar was a person, it would be Angela. I really can’t refuse and hurt her feelings. “I would love to, Angela. Thank you.” I hate planning parties.

 

In a flash, she’s hugging me. Why is she hugging me? I really don’t like to be hugged by people that I just met. She finally lets me go and I resist the urge to shudder. “Oh, Pam, you won’t regret it. I’ll see you at lunch, okay?” And all I can do is nod. Another hug and she leaves.

 

“Got suckered into the PPC, I see.” Oh, nice, it’s Jim. At my desk. Why isn’t he working?

 

“I wasn’t suckered. I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

 

“About as fun as pulling teeth, Beesly.” Wait, what?

 

“Um… ‘Beesly’? I prefer ‘Pam’.”

 

“Oh, sorry. It’s a habit of mine. Calling people by their last names.” If only I could wipe that smile off of his face.

 

“Yeah. Don’t. Anyways, listen, Jim, I would really like to get back to work, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

 

He looks surprised. I don’t know if it’s because I wanted to work or if I’m telling him to leave. Either way, he gets the message and goes back to his desk. Of course, not without giving me another one of his Jim looks. God, I really hate him.

 

 

March 8, 2002, 12:26 PM:

“Seriously, Dwight, she absolutely hates me.” I get my grape soda from the vending machine. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

Dwight looks at me from the table with a serious expression. “Jim, I’m sorry to tell you this, but sometimes people just don’t get along. Even with you.”

 

I take a sip. Honestly, I don’t know what happened. I didn’t play pranks on Pam. I didn’t give her a hard time. I tried to help her out with things like the phone system and the fax machine. I tried to warn her about Angela and the Party Planning Committee. But in the end, she hates me. She gives me looks of disgust and resentment. Whenever I try to talk to her about non-work related things, she brushes me off. And it’s not like she’s a workaholic. I’ve seen her have conversations with Angela or Meredith. Hell, she talks to Dwight about beets! But for some reason, she absolutely hates talking to me. I greet her in the morning and all I get is a head nod. When someone else greets her, she greets them back with a smile. The woman is impossible.

 

I take the chair at the table. “Dwight.”

 

“Jim.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Yeah, I know you ate the candy bar I left on my desk yesterday.”

 

“Wait… no. I mean, yes, I did eat your candy bar and I’ll get you a new one, but I was apologizing for something else.”

 

“The nickels in my headset?”

 

“No. I already apologized for that… just listen to me before you rattle off all the things I’ve done to you.”

 

“Okay… what are you sorry for?”

 

“I promised that I wouldn’t play pranks on Pam, but—“

 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna win her friendship.”

 

“Well, she pretty much made up her mind about that before it even began. But, seriously? I just gotta prank her. She’s been asking for it all week.”

 

“Jim…” He looks at me.

 

“Just to even the playing field.”

 

“God, do I even want to ask which prank?”

 

 

March 8, 2002, 4:51 PM:

Finally, this week is over. This place really isn’t that bad. Michael apparently likes me enough that he’s not going to fire me. At least that’s what Dwight told me. I found another person to watch “Gilmore Girls” with me since Roy hates that show with a passion. It’s not Dwight, by the way. It’s Angela. We’re going to have viewing parties each week at her place. According to Kevin and Oscar, she makes really good brownies. It’ll be a total girls’ night in. And lastly, I’m able to tune out Jim. He doesn’t exist to me. After I gave him the cold shoulder this morning, he hasn’t been to my desk the entire day, which is fine by me. I don’t need him and his annoying smile and his…

 

“What the hell!” I stare in the bottom drawer of my desk. There’s a Jell-O mold. And there’s something inside it.

 

My keys. Someone put my keys in a Jell-O mold and put in my drawer. What asshole puts…

 

I look straight at him. He stares back. He can barely contain that smirk of his.

 

Jim Halpert, you’re dead.

 

 

 

September 23, 2002, 2:11 PM:

 

“Jim?” I look away from my computer screen to see the petite blonde next to my desk. I smile at Angela, because, honestly, you can’t help but smile.

 

“What’s up, Angie?” I turn my chair to look at her better.

 

“I haven’t had time to ask you how yours and Dwight’s road trip went.” She starts to fiddle with her necklace. “Do you have pictures?”

 

“Yeah. We took lots of pictures. I sent them in to get developed yesterday so they should be done by five.”

 

“Oh. That’s great, Jim.” Still fiddling with her necklace.

 

“Um… if you want, we could have dinner tonight and you look at them. I have a souvenir for you, too.” And her smile gets bigger.

 

“I would love to!” Here comes the hug. “Should I come by around 6:30? I made cookies yesterday so I’ll bring them. You like oatmeal chocolate chip, right?” And another hug and she’s off to the kitchen. Without even getting my answers. Oh well. It’s all good. I mean, 6:30 is fine and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies are good, too.

 

“I think she has a crush on you.” I look up. What is this? Pamela Jane Beesly is talking to me? I’m in shock.

 

“Excuse me?” I ask, curiously.

 

She rolls her eyes and beckons me to her desk. After careful acknowledgement of what I was going to do, I cautiously make my way to reception. Yes, I haven’t wandered over there since… um, Pam’s third week here. I either got my messages from Dwight or Pam would leave them on my desk while I’m away. However, messages mean nothing to me when they’re written in chicken scratch. Yeah, that’s how Pam got back at me. She writes everyone else’s messages in clean, neat printed handwriting while on mine, she practices her left-handed script. Luckily, Dwight is good at analyzing handwriting so he deciphers them for me.

 

I take an M&M from the candy tray. And of course, she glares at me. “What?”

 

She sighs. “Those aren’t for you. Those are for customers.”

 

“Beesly, customers rarely come in here. We usually go to their—“

 

“What did I tell you about calling me ‘Beesly’?”

 

“That you absolutely love it when I do.” Smirk.

 

She shakes her head. “Why do I even bother?” She moves a folder from her desk to a box on the floor. “You know what, Halpert? You can deal with Angela on your own. But, if you hurt her, I swear, I will hunt you down.”

 

“Yeah right. What are you going to do? Try to strangle me with the arms of your sweater?” She chucks a wad of paper at me. “Ooo… I’m so scared… Please don’t throw garbage at me.”

 

“Get away from me. I hate you.”

 

“Well, I hate you, too.” And I leave the lair of Medusa.

 

 

September 24, 2002, 7:43 PM:

Yay! Gilmore Girls premiere night. So, I used up one of my sick days today because, seriously, after yesterday, I really didn’t want to see Jim’s face. The guy just infuriates me. He’s so immature and closed-minded and, gah, he’s just so dumb! I don’t know what Angela sees in him. Yes, he’s somewhat good-looking but looks aren’t everything.

 

I ring the doorbell of Angela’s apartment. It was my turn to bring the food so pizza it is. Thank goodness, when it arrived at our place, Roy didn’t answer the door or else he would have taken at least three slices right there and then. Ring the doorbell again. God, what is taking her so long? Let’s try knocking.

 

“Coming!” I hear her unlatch the deadbolt. Seconds later, she flings open the door. “Pam!” Why does she look surprised?

 

“Hey,” I say as I walk in. I rush to put the pizza on the dining room table. I dump my purse on one of the chairs. “Listen, Angela, I couldn’t help but read some spoilers. And it’s going to be so…”

 

“Hey, Pam.” Um… what is Jim doing here? Oh God. This is awkward. This is very awkward.

 

Angela walks closer to me. “I thought you were sick today. I figured that you would want to rest to, um, you know, get better.”

 

“Um, yeah. Well, I decided that I’ve been working straight since March and I just wanted a day off.” I shake my head. “I should have called. I mean, I just assumed that we would still have our premiere party, ya know.”

 

Jim clears his throat. “You two should totally still have your premiere party. Um, I’ll just see you two tomorrow.”

 

Angela turns to him. “Oh, okay. Tomorrow, then.” The way they look at each other… I feel a bit queasy.

 

“Angela, do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

 

She breaks from looking at Jim. “Oh sure. It’s door at the end of the hallway.”

 

“Thanks.” As I walk past Jim, I manage to mumble some sort of good-bye. That boy is sly. Just… No. No, no, no. I did not just peek inside Angela’s bedroom. I didn’t. Yes, the door was open but... No. I’m blanking it out of my mind. I don’t need any mental images of Angela and Jim making… okay, Pam, stop. Stop. Get inside the bathroom and breathe. It’s not like they were having sex. They were both fully clothed. I mean, at the most, there was some… Stop, Pam! Geez! This is Angela and Jim, you’re talking about here. Sweet, innocent Angela and stupid, dumb Jim. Seriously, get this whole thing. Out. Of. Your. Head.

 

 

September 25, 2002, 9:04 AM:

“So, you and Angela?” Dwight looks at me with a grin. Believe it or not, I’ve kind-of had a thing for Angela, off-and-on, for the last year. She got me in Secret Santa last Christmas and she gave me a scarf. It’s a really good scarf, too. It’s navy and gray. I’ve pretty much wore it ever since. Well, not ever since but when I need to wear a scarf, it’s the first one that I grab. So, when Pam told me that Angela might have a crush on me, I knew that it’s worth giving a shot. And now, here we are. Casual dating for the moment. I mean, when Pam came over yesterday, Angie and I were just lying on her bed talking about our childhood. Nothing, you know, like that… God. Give me some credit.

 

I look at Dwight and smile. “Yeah. Nothing serious, of course. But, yeah.”

 

“Hey, Jim.” Meredith. Sweet, dear Meredith. “Here are those surveys that you asked for yesterday.”

 

“Oh, thanks.” I take the file from her hands. And of course, I can’t help looking at “The Shit.” Yeah, “The Shit.” It’s the nickname that Dwight and I came up for Meredith’s wedding ring set thing. It originally was “The Rock” due to the sheer size of the diamond, but “The Shit” is much funnier and practically describes it better. Meredith is one of those people who work even if they don’t have to. Her husband is loaded but he’s in New York City during the week and both of their kids are in a boarding school in Connecticut, so she gets lonely which is why she’s working here.

 

“Is there anything else, Jim?” Meredith asks as she smoothes out her probably two thousand dollar skirt. I shake my head. “Well, if there’s anything, just let me know.” She pats me on the shoulder and heads back to her desk. Yeah, would you please pay off my college loans? And my car? And maybe get me someplace better to live? Damn, she can’t hear my inner dialogue request line.

 

“Forget your current car. You have to ask for a new one.” I glance at Dwight who’s typing away at something. Of course, he knew what I was thinking. That’s what best friends do.

 

 

September 26, 2002, 11:36 PM:

Thank God for a 24-hour convenience store. This week is so dumb. First, the whole Jim and Angela awkwardness thing. Then, the whole Michael yelling at me because I inserted the paper wrong in the printer so his letter wasn’t printed evenly. And now, Roy staying the night at his brother’s because they’re going early tomorrow to go to Nashville for the Country Music Festival. Yes, my fiancée is into country music. He’s obsessed. And, of course, I can’t stand it. Anyways, this week has been stupid and I need some kind of alcohol or something. Maybe cigarettes? I haven’t had those since that rebellious phrase in high school. Oh, well. I go to the back to grab some beer. And figures, there is…

 

“Michael.” He looks at me. Of course, not with a smile or anything. He’s still upset about the letter. Shit. Forget the beer. He’ll just accuse me of being drunk tomorrow. I open the nearest fridge and grab a bottle of… Sobe. Yummy. Carrot Orange favor. Gag me.

 

“Pam. What are you doing up so late?” He approaches me slowly, still unemotionally. “Tomorrow is the last Friday of the month. You have to be at the office at eight.” Fuck! Stupid end-of-the-month party! I probably have to be at the office even earlier in order to print out the dumb-ass achievement certificates.

 

“Heh… I just have a really bad headache so I came to buy some aspirin and some Sobe. Always helps with a headache.” And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the dumbest lie ever.

 

“You drove with a really bad headache?” He looks at my quizzically. “At midnight? That’s not safe, Pam.” He gently grabs my arm and leads me to the aisle with the aspirin. Then, we head to the counter. Interestingly enough, he pays for the aspirin, my Sobe drink, and a gallon of milk that he was apparently holding. Afterwards, we walk out of the store and he soon explains, “I can’t sleep at night without a glass of warm milk.” I’m trying very hard not to give one of those “WTF” faces that Jim gives during our conference room meetings. I hate the fact that he’s somewhat rubbing onto me.

 

“Oh, that’s… okay, well, thanks, Michael, for the purchases. I have to…” And he’s grabbing my arm again.

 

“No, Pam. I will not be held responsible if you get in a car accident. I’m driving you home.” Um, what?

 

“Michael, I really—“

 

“No. I’m not backing down on this. Now, come on.” Why do I feel like I’m sixteen again and my dad just found me trying to buy cigarettes?

 

 

September 27, 2002, 6:07 AM:

I think the phone is ringing. Actually, I’m pretty sure the phone is ringing. Who the heck is calling me at this hour?

 

“Hello?” This better be important.

 

“Um, Jim. Hi. Morning. This is Pam.” Uh... what?

 

“Hi... Is everything okay?”

 

“Actually, I need a ride to get my car. I’ve tried calling everyone else and no one is answering.” Yeah, they’re smart.

 

“Beesly, I’m confused.”

 

“Halpert, it’s a long story and I really don’t want to get into it right now, so are you willing to call it a truce and drive me to my car or not?” The hint of desperation in her voice tells me that it’s one of those “serious” times that Dwight keeps talking to me about.

 

“Give me five minutes. Also, where do you live?”

 

December 16, 2002, 7:30 AM:

Last week before vacation. Thank God that Michael is pretty religious and gave us the entire week off for Christmas instead of just the day. I mean, I’m Catholic but I’m not that into the holiday. It’s okay; time off is time off and after being at Dunder-Mifflin for almost a year… well, I started in March and it’s December… close enough… I deserve a good, long break.

Damn, why have I just been laying in bed for the last 15 minutes? At least Roy isn’t snoring… wait… yup, spoke too soon. Oh, geez, now he’s rolling in the bed… Forget it. I’m getting up.

I might as well check my e-mail before work. Michael’s so strict with the Internet. He put this monitoring system. Of course, it was Kevin who suggested it. He’s such a prude. Seriously? The guy should have been a monk or something. Every once in a while, I get anonymous notes on my desk saying that I should button my shirt all the way to the top or that I should wear a longer skirt or that my sweater is too tight. I know that it’s him. I mean, who else would it be?

Apparently, someone in the office loves doing e-mail forwards and some people find them fairly offensive. I have to admit some of them are actually pretty funny. Stupid Jim.

 

 

December 17, 2002, 3:28 PM:

“May I help you, Dwight?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been staring at me for the last few minutes.”

“Well, I was just waiting to see if that thing on your forehead will move.” He smiles as I roll my eyes and get up.

“You’re so immature.” Of course, I have to flick his ear as I walk by. Seriously though, I thought once you pass a certain age, you don’t get pimples anymore. I head to the bathroom and look in the mirror. God! I swear, it got bigger and redder since this morning. It’s like right in the middle of my forehead, too. Maybe if I try and cover it with my hair… yeah, that looks worse. I look like a kid with a bowl cut. Guh… maybe Angela has something.

Damn, she’s on the phone. And yeah, getting the disapproving look from Kevin. Angela told me that he called her a hussy one time. Okay, I’m leaving… Maybe Beesly. If she’s in a good mood.

Pam’s like a faucet. She can be hot and cold, depending on the day. I don’t think Michael’s bothered her today, so I might be in the clear.

“Hey.” I take a jellybean from the candy container.

“Those aren’t for you.” Okay, maybe she’s cold at the moment. “What do you want?” she adds. Looks like she’s more lukewarm…

“I know that you’re going to laugh but—“

“Is this about the giant thing that’s taking over your face? And no, I don’t mean your nose.” Wow… she’s just a little spitfire today.

“Ha. Very funny. I’m guessing you haven’t gotten any from Roy lately. I’ve heard that lack of sex makes women very cranky, especially when the guy is getting it from someone else.” What the fuck, Halpert?! Did you just really say that? Apologize! Now! “Um… listen, Pam, I didn’t—“

“You’re a dick, Jim!” And there she goes, running out the door.

“James, what just happened?” Great. Now, Michael’s involved. BS the best you can, Jim.

“I told her that she wore the same sweater last week and I guess she took it the wrong way.” Smooth, Halpert.

“She can be awfully sensitive in terms of her clothes. Please don’t do that again. However, when she comes back in, send her to my office so that I can get her side of the story.” I’m screwed.

“Yes, sir.” Very, very screwed.

 

 

December 18, 2002, 2:29 AM:

I hate the fact that Jim’s comment is doing this to me. Roy’s not cheating on me. We have plenty of sex. No, not a lot recently, but we have sex. Midnight showing of Lord of the Rings. That’s where Roy is. He’s there with Darryl. He’ll be back soon. The movie is three freakin’ hours long.

When Michael called me into his office after I got back, I caught a glimpse of Jim’s face. He looked so… so… sad. Angela told me one time that Jim’s very particular about his nose. I didn’t realized that he was that particular. It’s his sense of humor… he didn’t know that Roy and I weren’t having sex. Jim just decided to go for the shock factor. Then again, why am I defending him? Michael sat me down and asked me if Jim did anything wrong to me. I could have told the truth and knowing Michael, he would suspend Jim or even fire him. But it’s right before Christmas and then there’s Angela and… I told Michael that Jim was fine and that I just took a comment of his the wrong way. That I was overly sensitive about it. Strangely, Michael replied about not remembering me wearing my sweater last week. I didn’t question it, but just nodded and asked if I could leave.

When I got back to me desk, there was a bag of Sunchips and a note. Both from Jim… apologizing profusely. Saying that he there was anything that he can do to make up for it that he would. I have to make it a good one.

I hear a car door and go to look out the window. It’s Darryl dropping off Roy. Good, he was telling the truth after all. Roy wouldn’t cheat on me. He loves me too… Oh my God! What the hell?! No. No, no, no, no! It can’t be. It just can’t… Shit! Fucking shit!

 

 

December 19, 2002, 11: 35 AM:

Pam called in sick yesterday and she’s still not here today, either. I know that I shouldn’t be but I’m worried. I’m going to drive over to her place during lunch and check on her. That’s the least I can do for that terrible remark that I made on Tuesday. Maybe some flowers, too. Then again, I don’t know if she’s allergic. Chocolate? That won’t help if she’s throwing up. A can of soup and a box of tissues. Bingo!

Her place isn’t bad looking. A small Victorian house on the outskirts of the city. Her car is in the driveway. I kind-of look like a dork with a can of soup and a box of tissues. Oh well, it’s the least I can do. I ring the doorbell. Once. Twice. Three times. Okay, Jim, stop! The poor girl is probably in bed and it’ll take her a while…

She opens the door. “Hey.”

“Hi.” She looks a little sick. Eyes are puffy. Nose is red and stuffed up. “You weren’t in work the last few days and I was kind-of worried. Brought you some soup and tissues.”

“Thanks.” She opens the door wider and lets me in. Okay, this is strange. She’s being awfully friendly. I would have half-expected her to slam the door on me. Must be the drugs.

“This place is really nice.” It actually is. The craftsmanship of the wood is amazing. I spot the stain glass windows in the parlor on the right and they’re absolutely beautiful. My grandfather was a craftsman and I always loved going to their house and see all the pieces that he made. “How did you find this place?”

“It was my grandaunt’s. She left it to me in her will.” Nice, Beesly.

“So, what do you have?”

“A broken heart.” Wasn’t expecting that.

“Um… excuse me.”

“You were right about Roy.” Oh, no. Of all the things that I wanted to be right about, that was not one of them.

“Pam, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I just said it because… well, it’s me. I’m stupid like that.”

“Yeah, it’s fine, Jim.” She sits down and motions me to sit down as well. “I should have seen the signs.”

“No one can predict for these things.” God, I feel so bad for her. I feel so evil, too. I practically predicted that this was happening. Roy’s not the best looking guy in the world. His personality is so-so. What girl would fall for him? Well, besides Pam.

“Well, it’s not really predicting. It’s more like getting my gaydar updated.” Um… what? She notices the look on my face and laughs. “Yeah… Roy’s gay. I saw him and Darryl kiss. And when I confronted him about it, he explained that he, somewhere along the way, realized that he was interested in men.” Wow…

“That’s… nice, Beesly, you turned a guy gay.” She’s actually very pretty when she laughs. I don’t see it that much.

“Well, I guess it could be worse. Anyways, you better get back before Michael goes ape-shit on your ass.” Weird phrase, but okay.

“Yeah. Will I see you tomorrow? It’s the annual Christmas party and believe me it’s ridiculous compared to the other parties that we have.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. But I hate being on the Party Planning Committee. On Monday, Angela gave me a list of things I need to get and I just—“

“Give me the list. I’ll do it.” The least I can do at the moment.

“Really? Thanks.” She goes and grabs her purse from the kitchen. I take the list… all three pages of it, back and front. Oh, Angela… you think way too much about this. “Have fun.”

“I’ll try.” I get up and head towards the door. “See ya tomorrow, Beesly.”

“Sure thing, Halpert.”

 

 

December 20, 2002, 4:28 PM:

My first day back wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be. Apparently, Jim thought of a great story to cover up the whole Roy fiasco. God, now I have to deal with the family during the holidays. At least the Christmas party isn’t so bad… it’s actually pretty good.

“Angela, this is really great.”

“Hee… thanks, Pam. That means a lot.” And she’s hugging me. I swear, the girl is just too freakin’ sweet. And hyper. Especially for someone who spent all night baking.

“So, what are your plans for Christmas?”

“Well, I’m heading to my grandma’s place in North Carolina. All the family is gathering there. We’re huge!” That’s what she said. Damnit, Jim!

“Are you taking Jim with you?”

“No. Which is sad because he actually planned a little winter getaway for us but I can’t go because I’m going to the family reunion thing. He can’t cancel either. So, he said that he’ll just take Dwight with him. Heh… if he wasn’t dating me, I swear those two were a couple.” Yeah… And she’s hugging me again and scurries off to talk to Meredith.

This place needs some alcohol. Of course, Michael’s not going to have alcohol at a company party so… where is Jim? I leave the conference room and head to the kitchen. Not there… wait, I hear voices from the Annex.

“So, here’s where the real party’s at.” I discover Jim, Dwight and Oscar plus a bottle of Smirnoff. Oscar hands me the bottle.

“Take a chug, Pam,” he slurs a little. I take a quick one before handing it back to Oscar, who proceeds to take a longer one. Dwight quickly takes the bottle from Oscar.

“Okay, I better drive this one home before Michael catches him.” He helps Oscar to his feet. “I’ll see you two after the break. Jim, I hope that you can find someone else to go with you. Merry Christmas, Pam!” Oscar mumbles something, too, as Dwight helps him out of the breakroom.

I wave to the two as Jim takes a swig of from the bottle. “Oscar Martinez. The office drunk.”

I sit down. “Well, he has to be. I mean, sitting with pious Kevin and hyper Angela, how else can he get through the day.”

“Exactly.” He passes me the bottle, which I just hold in my hands.

“So, I’m guessing Dwight’s not going with you on the ‘winter getaway’ that you had planned.”

“Heh… Angela told you about that.” I nod. “Yeah, Dwight’s mother is coming into town next week and the farmhouse is an absolute mess. Mose, Dwight’s cousin, is never home, so between the two of them, it just never gets cleaned, ya know?”

“I haven’t heard much about Mose.” I take a sip of the vodka and hand back the bottle to Jim.

“Well, he’s the biggest womanizer in Lackawanna County.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Jim chuckles as he takes a gulp. “So, yeah… looks like I’m going on this trip by myself.”

“Why not take me?” Why did I just do that? Easy, Pam. The answer is simple. You want to avoid your family and it’s a free trip. Plus, Jim isn’t that bad…

“You serious, Beesly? Do you really think that we can handle a week without any buffers like Dwight and Angela? That we won’t kill each other?”

“I’m up for challenges. Plus, I think that you still owe me for that comment that you said earlier this week.” Long pause. His green eyes looking into mine. I guess just to see if I was being serious. He finally smiles.

“Fine. But don’t get mad at me at the end of this. It was your idea.” He takes finishes up the last drops of the vodka and stands up. “I gotta go get rid of this. I’m thinking of putting it in Roger’s desk.” Yes, please do. He’s so creepy.

Jim turns to leave. “By the way, where are we going?” He looks at me gives me one of those goofy grins that I hate so much. Well, used to hate. Jim Halpert, look what you’ve done to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

February 10, 2003, 6:32 PM:

“Man, you suck at this!” I look back at Oscar, who’s already into his fourth beer. Really? It’s been, like, what… an hour and a half since we got to Poor Richard’s. Geez.

“Mr. Halpert, ignore him and go on.” Guh… “Mr. Halpert.” I sometimes feel old with our new quality assurance officer, Charles Bratton. This 21 year old, fresh from Marywood. We call him “Creed,” though. Reason? Well, when he first started a month ago, his cell phone went off during one of the meetings. Luckily, Dwight was in charge instead of Michael, who was off teaching a seminar at Lackawanna College. Anyways, Charles’ ringtone was “With Arms Wide Open” by Creed and Angela automatically recognized the song because she loved Creed and boom! Charles’ nickname became “Creed.” It’s unfortunate for Angie about the band kind-of disappearing, but she’s still hoping that they’ll come back with something. And really, it’s all about---

“Earth to Jim…” Ugh!

“Dwight! Never get that close to my face. Ever again.” I’ve probably drunk-kissed Dwight once or twice in my lifetime, but I’m still quite sober at the moment.

“Well, you’re off in La-La land instead of throwing the stupid dart.”

“Sorry.” I take my turn. Nice… 20 pts. That puts me and Dwight ahead. Do I feel bad that Creed was stuck with drunk Oscar? Nah. Especially after he still calls me “Mr. Halpert” even when he’s only three years younger.

“Hey, boys!” And here comes the girls. God, Angela sure know how to brighten up a room. I take a quick sip of water before giving her a kiss. Yeah, as much as she doesn’t mind me drinking, she kind-of hates the taste of beer when she kisses me so try to be considerate to the girlfriend, ya know.

“Miss Beesly, were you able to keep your cast?” I glance at Pam as she gives Creed a death glare.

“First, Creed, what did I tell you about calling me ‘Miss Beesly’?”

“Um… don’t call you that.” Poor guy. Well, not really, I’ve been subject to the infamous Beesly death glare for a year already so no real sympathy from me.

“Good. Secondly, why exactly would I want to keep a reminder of the pain and frustration that I had to deal with for the last two and a half months?” She’s still glaring.

“Yeah… sorry. Um, you wanna a drink?” Yes, ask her if she wants alcohol right after she got her cast off. That’ll get on her good side.

I barely got back on it. However, it really wasn’t my fault. Our winter trip was to Quebec City. Yes, Quebec City. You know the French city disguised as a Canadian one? See, it would have been more fun since Angela was a French minor so going to Quebec would kind-of been like going to Paris and she would have loved it. But since it was Pam and I, it wasn’t as great. I mean, we had fun. Going to a new place is always an adventure. Pam just wanted to get away from Scranton and her family and Roy and everything else. Angela told me to make Pam as worry-free as possible.

I tried. I really did. I thought that it was just going to be a fun trip. I had planned it out like a month beforehand and when we got there, it hit me. I forgot how much of this trip was supposed to be a romantic trip for Angela and me. So awkwardness was the theme for the first couple of days. I mean, the room situation was the first. I couldn’t change the reservation from the queen bed to two double beds. We ended up calling up about five pillows and built a pillow wall between the two of us. Then there was the couple’s massage… and the candlelit dinner… um… yeah, the first couple of days were just awkward.

However, by midweek, we got into a stride and we were able to truly enjoy the city. Yeah, it was cold, but it wasn’t extremely bad. It was sunny but windy so bundling up was the main thing. We sat down and planned out a sightseeing tour, especially in Old Quebec. I never realized it but Pam had a fondness for art so I definitely make sure for us to go to the museums. So, yeah, the week continued to go on well. Pam and I weren’t killing each other; in fact, I would say that we became friends… until Saturday night.

Remember the pillow wall that we had made? Well, we were just laying there and just talking and I decided to take one of the pillows and hit her with it. Of course, she responded in kind and we got into a pseudo-pillow fight. Now, there are no lights on except for the glow from the window… I had stopped after a little bit as she continued to whack me with the pillow. Suddenly, I heard a crash. Pam had been backing up on the bed until she finally reached the edge and just fell, hitting the nightstand on the way down.

She fractured her left arm. As well as bruised her spine. And twisted her ankle. And bumped her head. So… yeah… lovely trip to the hospital at two in the morning. Luckily, her spine wasn’t too bad… just a bit sore. Ice compress on her ankle and head. Since we were leaving later in the afternoon, she couldn’t get a cast until we got back home to Scranton; they just put it in a sling and taped a board on it so that she wouldn’t bend it. Well, that was the trip. Wasn’t the best thing ever. And Pam didn’t talk to me for weeks. She didn’t even talk to Angela. However, really? You can’t stay mad at Angela. It’s just not really that possible.

Pam’s still warming back up to me so it’s trying not to step on landmines.

“Bull’s eye!” And ladies and gentlemen, drunken Oscar has gotten a bull’s eye by tossing the dart behind his back. Wow…

 

 

February 11, 2003, 3:13PM:

I’m glad to have my arm out of that cast. But damn, it’s so weak. I could barely carry things. And it annoys the hell out of me that I have to ask for help. Especially from Jim. I’m always bothering him to He’s the closest to Reception and quite frankly, I’m glad that he’s there instead of elsewhere. Yeah, I had been hard on him because of the fractured arm thing but it really wasn’t his fault. I gotta say… I’m pretty jealous of Angela. I didn’t tell Jim this but everything that he planned for the trip, it was perfect and romantic and everything I wished a guy would do for me. However, Jim is Angela’s and that’s great. She deserves a great guy. Wait… did I just call Jim Halpert a “great guy”? Guh…

Ooo, now the fun starts. Here comes Michael to Reception. “Pam, has Jan called yet?”

“No. Not today. Are you expecting a call?” Jan usually just checks in on Mondays, so I’m a bit muffed.

“Yes, she had another meeting before I was able to get through the agenda yesterday and said she’ll call back today at three.” He glances at the wall clock before heading back to his office. “Put her through immediately when she calls.”

Jan. Jan Levinson-Gould. She’s one of the corporate managers at Dunder-Mifflin, overseeing the Scranton branch along with Stamford, Albany, and Buffalo. Let’s just say that hers and Michael’s managerial style are completely opposite. While Michael is strict and precise, she’s more relaxed and even a bit disorganized. She loves to shop and read gossip magazines. Whenever she comes to Scranton, she always decides to an excursion to Hershey and gets the giant bars of candy, even though Gertrude Hawk Chocolate is so much better. She’s such a girlie-girl, with her bright pink suits and the designer bags… yeah, very different than Michael. However, she does get the job done. She’s competent which Michael appreciates even if he hates when she’s chatting with Angela and I about Friends, Jan’s favorite show. We’re trying to get her on the Gilmore Girls bandwagon.

Oops! The phone… probably her. “Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam.” Yup. It is. “One moment, Jan, while I put you through.” Damn, even holding the phone seems heavy.

Hmm… Jim looks awfully cute when he trying to concentrate on something that he has read several times already… God, Pam! Stop it! Stop staring!

 

 

February 12, 2003, 8:51 AM:

So strange… both Dwight and Michael are out after an emergency meeting was called at corporate yesterday. Stanley is out sick. Meredith’s out on a family vacation in Vail. Once Oscar found out Michael wasn’t going to be in, he just didn’t show up for work. Probably passed out from last night’s adventures. I should really try and get him help.

Anyways, I was left in charge. It’s not the first time but due to everything happening so suddenly, Michael didn’t give me his checklist or the two-hour discussion on what needs to happen while he and Dwight are gone. So, we’re just going about what we usually do. But it’s just going to be painfully slow and boring.

I need coffee. No offense to Pam but I hate it when she makes the coffee in the morning. It’s never strong enough and I just end up drinking more of it. Luckily, she hasn’t come in yet so yay! I get to make the coffee.

“Just the man I wanted to see,” Angela says as she walks into the breakroom. Better to give her a kiss now before I get coffee breath. “Listen, I was wondering on what are our plans for this Friday.”

Heh… this Friday is Valentine’s Day. I give Angela another kiss. “Just be free the entire night and you’ll see. It’s a surprise.” And there’s that 100-watt smile.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” And here’s Pam.

Angela shakes her head. “Nope. I was just trying to figure out what Jim has planned for Valentine’s Day, but he’s not budging.”

“Ah. Well, I’m going to make the coffee then.” Or not.

“Um… I actually already started it, so don’t worry about it, Beesly.”

“You’re going to make it too strong, Jim.” She turns to Angela. “I hated it when he made coffee while we were in Quebec. It was always too strong.” And with a shrug, she leaves.

Wait… backtrack a moment. In the past two months, Pam hasn’t mentioned Quebec. Ever. Not even a little bit. And now she… without even… so weird. And the look on Angela’s face tells me she’s thinking the same thing.

I bring out a cup of coffee to Pam. “Here, I went in the middle of the two.”

“Thank you,” she says as she takes it from me.

“How’s the arm?” I figure it’s better to ask now than later.

“It’s better. Still kind-of weak, but it’s better.” Um… I think she just gave me the look over. Like looking from the top of my head and slowly down… how, um, weird.

“Okay, well, I’m going to go back to my desk.”

“Cool. Thanks again for the coffee.” Okay, I now feel a little self-conscious. She keeps on glancing over here… it’s nothing, Jim. It’s simply nothing.

 

 

February 13, 2003, 7:07 PM:

Pam, you’re being stupid. You’re being irrational. You can’t. You can’t do this. You don’t have feelings for Jim Halpert.

You just can’t. He’s dating one of your best friends. They’re perfectly happy. They’ve been so for a while. So, just stop looking into your fridge and actually grab something to eat or close it and order take-out. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. You’re going to be alone on Valentine’s Day. The first time in years. That’s ridiculous! You need a date. Call Marissa. She’s wanted to set you up on that blind date for a while.

Okay, maybe not tomorrow night, because then the guy might be expecting something. It’s only 7:00, you can go on a date now. Calling Marissa…

“Hello?”

“Hey, Marissa. It’s Pam.”

“Oh, hey, Pam. What’s up?”

“Well, I know that this is last minute and all but I was wondering if that guy that you’ve been trying to set me up on is free tonight.”

“Really? Are you sure you want me to?”

“Yeah. I’m positive.” That I want the feelings for Jim Halpert to just go away.

“Okay, well, he’s actually Colin’s friend. I think he’s a professor at the University. I have his number so I’ll give him a call and if he’s free, I’ll call you back with a time and a place. Is that fine with you?”

“Yeah. Totally.” I have nothing better to do tonight.

After hanging up, I decide that I look like a train wreck and go off to change into a date-worthy outfit. Roy never seemed interested when I wore something skimpy and sexy… probably the first sign that he was gay, right? Anyways, I got rid of most of those outfits except for this spaghetti strap red dress that I have. Yeah, definitely wearing that.

Ooo… phone ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hey, your date awaits for you at Farley’s. He’s heading over there right now so you get to it.”

“How will I know it’s him?”

“Um… He’s going to be at the bar. He’s been reading ‘The Tipping Point’ which just came out last month so he said he’ll have that with him.”

“Ooo… I’ve been wanting to read that. Alright. Thanks so much, Marissa!”

“No problem. Just let me know how it goes. Have fun!”

He sounds pretty good. I mean, Colin has good taste in friends. He surrounds himself with intelligent, witty people. A university professor sounds interesting, too. I wonder what he teaches. If he’s reading “The Tipping Point,” then maybe it’s psychology? Or maybe just literature? I’ve read only reviews of the book and it sounds like a thinking book, so for a casual read, the person has to be pretty smart. Holy shit, I’m so excited about this date! It’ll take my mind off of the suckiness that is my life.

Hmm… Farley isn’t too crowded tonight. Probably people are saving up their date night for tomorrow. I hope this dress doesn’t say “I put out.” Okay, looking for a guy at the bar with a book. Maybe Marissa thought that I would take a while to dress up and assumed that he would get there before—

“Pam?” I recognize that voice. Turning around… slowly.

“Hey…” Fuck! He’s has “The Tipping Point!” Oh, shit. Fucking shit!

 

 

February 14, 2003, 12:46 PM:

I don’t think I made a dumber excuse to leave the office early for lunch before in my entire life. I literally told Michael “I’ve been bothered all morning on whether or not I turned off the oven, so I’m going to go home really quickly.” Luckily, Michael seems to be in a good mood today so he just let me go.

Nothing was going right for me today since I woke up. The alarm didn’t go off, making me late and I wasn’t able to order flowers or pick up Angela’s gift. Several clients have been changing their orders. Dwight’s in a bad mood due to Mose bringing some “unsavory” people over last night, which doesn’t bode well for me and asking him questions about the new catalog which I have yet to familiarize myself with. And Pam’s been spacey and hasn’t helped me with the copies that I asked her to do and the faxes and blah and blah. It’s just been a bad day overall.

I do my errands at the Mall, including a quick stop at the food court, before heading back to the office. When I pull into the parking lot, I notice a brunette woman sitting on the bench on the front of the building. As I walk closer, I… Heh… that’s a first.

“You know that’s bad for you.” Pam looks up at me from the bench.

“I usually don’t smoke. I tried it in high school, but haven’t since. However, I just felt like I needed one today. Got one from the Vance Refrigeration guys.”

“Nice.” I sit down next to her. “You seemed a bit spacey today.”

“More so than usual?”

“Ha. No. There’s a difference between bored and spacey. You’re usually bored.”

“I had an interesting night last night and it just kind-of ran through until the morning, if you know what I mean.”

“What is this? Did Beelsy have a walk of shame?” I just couldn’t help on grinning as she dropped the finished cigarette to the ground and stepped on it with her foot.

“In more ways than one, actually.” She looks at me. “I had a blind date. We met at Farley’s. Got amazingly drunk and ended up getting a room at the Radisson. Let’s just say the both of us hadn’t gotten any in a while so it was just… yeah…”

“Oh my God. That’s… I have no idea what to say to that.”

“It gets better. Um, you promise that you won’t repeat this to anyone. Even Angela.”

“Okay. I promise.” This is going to be very good.

She leans into me and whispers, “My blind date was Michael.” And my mind is blown.