“And…I’m boring myself just talking about this.”

He looked bored. Too bored. This would not make great television. Len sighed and switched off the camera.

“It’s a little weird talking about yourself into a camera, isn’t it, Jim?” He asked.

Jim raised his eyebrows and gave a little shrug.

“Look, what I find is that sometimes it helps to just loosen up a little. Maybe diving in head-first wasn’t the best idea. Why don’t you and I just get to know each other a little first.”

“Okay.”

This wasn’t going to be easy. Of all the places to film a documentary, Len could not understand why this struggling paper company in Podunk full of boring, ugly people ever snagged the role. Michael had clearly oversold the entertainment value of his branch. Michael was an entertaining character, he could easily be the next Omarosa if this were a weekly series. But these other people…man.

“Anything you like to do in your spare time?”

“I dunno, nothing interesting. Basketball with friends, watch TV.”

Len tried not to grind his teeth. For a guy who was obviously charming and friendly to his coworkers, he was putting up a wall, and fast.

"Where did you grow up."

"Around here. Went to college here. Now I work here."

"You must like it here, then."

"It's home."

Silence. Can't this guy crack a joke about putting office supplies in jell-o or something?

"Did you always plan on going into sales?”

“Does anyone?”

Len sighed. This was going nowhere.

“Something bothering you, Jim?”

“Look, I…this wasn’t where I wanted to end up, okay? And this is just a stepping stone to other things. I graduated during a recession and these were the only people hiring. It’s a frustrating job and I guess I don’t want to literally broadcast my sorry state to all of America. I don’t want to be labeled a slacker when I’m only 25.”

That was fair.

“Jim, I’ll let you in on a little secret. This ‘show’,” he indicated with air quotes, “I don’t expect it to be a big hit. In all likelihood, we’ll shoot enough material for a few episodes, we’ll show it to the production company, and they’ll either show it in several years or pass on it altogether. So you don’t have to, you know, worry that you’ll be mobbed by fangirls down at the Stonetown Mall or anyth—“

“Steamtown.” Jim corrected.

“Steamtown, right, that’s what I said. So don’t be afraid to open up. In all likelihood only a few people will see it.”

Jim seemed to visibly relax a little. This was good. Len wasn’t sure how much of what he’d said was true, but he had a job and he was going to say and do what he had to in order to do it.

“So what do you think of your coworkers?” He asked.

Jim made a surprised face, almost like a staged smirk. Len wondered if he could get him to make it on camera.

“This is off the record, Jim, just so I can get a feel for the dynamics here.”

Jim scratched his head and glanced over Len’s shoulder for just a fraction of a second. “Oh, you know, they’re great. Kind of a motley crew, definitely the type of people I wouldn’t have met otherwise…” He continued talking but Len was only half-listening. When Jim averted his eyes to look at the opposite wall, he snuck a peak over his shoulder to see what or who Jim had been looking at. It was the reception desk. The receptionist. He had seen Jim over there a couple times today, talking and laughing with the receptionist. They seemed like good friends, really good friends, yet Jim hadn’t breathed a word about her yet. It was almost as if he was avoiding the subject.

This could get interesting. Was there a secret office romance he could uncover?

“How’s your love life?”

Jim laughed nervously and looked at his hands. “Um, not much to talk about there.”

That wasn’t exactly a no.

“I’d like to turn the camera back on if I could, Jim. Would you be alright with that?” He nodded. “Great!” Len switched on the camera.

“Ever think about leaving?”

“If I left, what would I do with all this useless information in my head? You know? Tonnage price of manila folders? Um, Pam's favorite flavor of yogurt, which is mixed berry.”

Len nodded, keeping a straight face. This could definitely get interesting.

----

“Do you like being a receptionist, Pam?”

“No.” Her reply was dull and flat. She didn’t make eye contact. She looked at the floor. She spoke too softly for the mike to really register her voice.

Fuck. She was going to be even more difficult than the other one. He sat there thinking. He saw a small diamond ring on her left hand. An engagement ring. Engaged women LOVE talking about their weddings, can’t shut up about them. Maybe if he could get her talking about that, she’d loosen up and talk about more.

He gestured toward her hand. “I see you’re engaged! Congratulations.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Roy. From the warehouse.”

“Why don’t you tell me a bit about him? And remember to use his name since my question will get cut out in editing.”

“Oh, okay. Um, well, Roy is my fiancé. We've been engaged about three years. We were supposed to get married in September but I think we're gonna get married in the spring.” Her uneasy smile and then stopped talking altogether.

“Better weather, or...?”

“Um, yeah, plus weddings are so expensive and things just keep coming up, you know, little expenses.” She stopped, eyes to the floor, the unmistakable look of disappointment in her face. This was clearly a touchy subject, and not one that was going to yield an interesting interview.

“So…” Len was grasping at straws here. “I hear your favorite yogurt is mixed berry.”

Great, talk about yogurt. You officially have the dullest interview subject if this is your Hail Mary.

She looked up and met his eyes, puzzled. “Who told you that?”

“Jim, the salesman.”

“Jim said mixed berries? Well, yeah, he's on to me. Um...” And she started laughing. Laughing in a way she hadn’t when around Roy, a light in her eyes that hadn’t existed when she was talking about her own wedding plans.

-----

He watched them both leave that night. A few bits of awkward conversation, then Pam scurrying off to the car where her fiancé waited impatiently. Len had tried all day to get him to sit down for an interview, and when he finally did he instantly regretted it. Roy had no…anything. No depth, no reflection, no drive, no interests, nothing. When asked how long he’d been with Pam, he blanked and said, “I dunno, man, it was during high school I think.” He had nothing interesting to say and seemed to know it. He was immature and made crude jokes at Len’s expense. It was clear to Len that Roy would only ever be hired to stack boxes and load trucks for the rest of his life.

He had clearly been athletic once, probably a football player, which would explain his appeal to a teenaged Pam. Years of drinking beer had added inches to his waistline. He didn’t seem like a bad guy to Len, just not a very nice one. He clearly was “comfortable” with his life: he lived with a girl who wasn’t pushing him very hard to get married, had a job that paid enough where he could goof off during the day with his buddies, and owned a big truck. Len had noticed this trend with other guys he’d met in other documentaries, particularly the meat-packers he’d met when filming a documentary in Minnesota: the dimmer their future prospects, the more young men turned to big trucks.

Now Len sat in the lobby of the building looking out into the dark parking lot. He saw the resignation in Pam’s eyes and knew, knew, that she wasn’t too tired to go have a drink with Jim. He saw the disappointment in his, and thought he might say something about it. Just then, Jim caught a glance of the camera, and Len, and realized they were being watched, and stopped speaking. Pam left. Jim watched, but only for a moment.

Len wasn’t the type of guy to get emotionally involved in his projects. He always kept his subjects at arm’s length, and for good reason: involving himself too much in the lives of the subjects might change their reaction, and his job was to document their activities, not shape them. Not that he didn’t help shape the final product; editing was a godsend, as far as he was concerned, and turned even the most boring subjects into riveting stories. God knows this project would need a lot of editing. But now, watching a young man with messy hair say good-night to a young woman who didn’t want to leave…Len couldn’t help but feel for the guy.

Alright, stop that, you’ve got a job to do. Make this interesting. He got up and walked outside with the camera on his shoulder.

“Jim,” he called out. Jim turned around, and Len adjusted the camera lens. Jim was no actor, and Len easily caught the sadness and surprise on his face. “So, what does a young, single paper salesman find himself doing on a Friday night in Scranton?”

The word “single” clearly stung. Zoom in.

“Uh, well, happy hour at Poor Richard’s…” he gestured over his shoulder.

“Mind if we film it?”

“Um…you know, I don’t think so. You know, people are drinking, there’s a camera…” he smiled awkwardly, clearly attempting a joke.

Why does this guy freeze up every time I film him? He’s so easygoing with everyone else. If I’m going to get what I need to get, I need him to trust me.

Len shut off the camera. He had what he needed. “Look, it’s hard to have a camera guy following you around everywhere. It takes some getting used to. Like I said earlier, it sometimes helps to get to know each other. Buy you a beer? You can tell me more about yourself. And I promise I’ll leave the camera in the van.”

Jim hesitated, then finally nodded. “See you there, I guess.”

Len got in the van and followed Jim’s red car out of the parking lot. What had seemed like a project about a failing company and its oblivious boss had turned into something more. The wheels were churning in his head. He could easily sell this as a love triangle with a legitimate, obvious roadblock to the two heroes getting together. And he wouldn’t even have to fake it in editing.

Getting these two to talk about their feelings would be a challenge. The drama here would have to come from what they didn’t say to each other, from what they wouldn’t admit to themselves, and from what little things they did and said when they thought no one was looking. It was a risky gambit, but it just might sell.

---
“May I have everyone’s attention, please?”

Len looked up from his laptop. He’d been sitting in the conference room going over his notes and schedule of interviews. Dwight was speaking. Len had already learned that this could be interesting. He thought about reaching for the camera, but it was too late at this point; a speech caught mid-way through was of no use. He wondered if he’d get approval for a second unit in the office, or at least a second cameraman.

“I have drafted a list of ground rules for what we will and will not say to the stranger in our midst,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Len, who suddenly found all the eyes of the office on him at once, some looking sympathetic, others suspicious. This seemed to happen around here a lot, but he wasn’t used to it yet.

“Corporate has already published a list of guidelines agreed to by both the company and the production crew and sent them around,” said a sad man in the back of the room. He had thinning red hair and a tired face.

“I have read them and they are just not good enough, Toby. What if he sells our sales secrets to our competitors, huh? What if Stamford finds out about our sales leads and undercuts us to avoid downsizing? How do we know that this ‘documentarian’ is not an Osprey Operative?”

“He is no Oprey Osperative…Osperative…he’s not a spy, Dwight, okay, so shut it,” said Michael, standing in the doorway to his office. “He’s here to make us all stars.”

“Have you tested his loyalty, Michael? Have you subjected him to trials that will reveal where his true loyalty lies?” Dwight challenged.

“You mean torture?” Jim said in a bemused voice from his chair.

“I never used that word,” Dwight said quickly.

“Really, because I could swear I heard you specifically use the word ‘torture.’”

“Um, I know what I said, Jim, and I didn’t say that,” Dwight scoffed.

“I heard him say it too,” said Pam in a scared voice that Len was fairly certain she was faking. “Dwight was openly advocating for torture. It makes me feel afraid in the workplace.”

“That’s a fireable offense, Dwight,” Jim said knowingly.

Len could see that doubt as to what he had really said had crept into Dwight’s mind, and with a huff he sat down and began typing vigorously on his computer. Jim and Pam shared a glance and half-smile with one another. Definitely need to get a second unit here.

Michael stepped into the conference room, put his arm around Len, and walked him to the door. “You are part of our family now, Len, our office family. I am your brother, Phyllis is your frumpy grandmother, Angela is your hot grandmother—“

“Michael!” Angela shouted angrily.

“I’m sorry, hot aunt,” Michael said. Angela scowled and pursed her lips. “And Pam is your sexy cousin that you wanna get biz-ay with but can’t.” Pam looked incredulous and exhausted at the same time, meeting first Jim’s then Len’s eyes. “You, Lensman, are our…distant relative from a faraway land, here to learn about our customs. You’re the friend of everyone here. Except for Toby. Why are you even out here, Toby? Go back to your little corner and do whatever it is you do all day.” Toby turned and left.

Len decided he should probably say something now before Michael went on. It’s not like the cameras were on or anything.

“Well, thanks Michael, I appreciate that. I just want everyone to know that I am not here to conduct corporate espionage or anything like that. What I’m trying to do here is show the world what the American workplace is like today. What makes you tick, what you do, what challenges you face in your office everyday. I know we went over this in the contracts and the introductory meeting a few weeks ago, but I want you to feel confident that I will do whatever I can to respect you and your company.”

The fat man in the back started clapping, then stopped when he saw that no one else was joining him Kevin was his name. Len had meant to ask if he’d been hired through a special program, but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.

“I’ll be in there if anyone has any questions.” Len gestured over his shoulder toward the conference room.

The old man who usually sat in the back of the office playing solitaire and eating unidentified little sprouts from a damp paper towel slowly approached Dwight. “You want to torture the outsider, I can offer up my services,” he whispered. “I can get you information for $50, reprogram him for $75, and disappear him for $100…”

---

“I’m surprised he’s still here,” Pam said over a bag of chips in the break room. She and Jim always shared their afternoon snack together.

“He said he’s filmed a lot of crazy in his career, I’m sure this was nothing.” Jim replied.

“Yeah but where else but with the Taliban would he have to listen to the subjects of his film openly talk about torturing him to test his loyalty?”

“That’s a fair point, I guess,” Jim said. “I wonder if we can get Dwight to apply to the CIA.”

Pam chuckled. “They could send him letters or something about a secret mission that they need his skills for.”

“But of course only after he proves his loyalty by telling them all of his deepest, darkest secrets.” Jim said. They laughed. Len decided to make his presence known at this point. Pam immediately stopped laughing and averted her eyes.

“Relax, I don’t have the camera, and I don’t bite,” he said. Jim gave him a friendly smile.

Drinks at Poor Richard’s a few weeks ago had been a good idea. Jim had loosened up quite a bit outside of the office. Jim was a Sixers fan and Len was a Celtics fan, so they spent quite a bit of time trashing each other’s teams, but in the friendly way that people tease each other. Jim had filled him in on the foibles of some of his coworkers that Len might want to keep an eye out for: when and what Meredith was drinking during the day, what Len might find inside Dwight’s desk drawers, and told him to make sure he had the camera on anytime Creed said anything. Oh, and Kelly. “Avoid engaging Kelly in conversation at all costs.” Len and Kelly hadn’t really talked that night, but from a distance she didn’t seem so bad: she seemed friendly and animated, if a bit chatty.

Pam, on the other hand, was still pretty closed off to him, like she was with everyone else. She seemed like a very sweet person, albeit painfully shy and perhaps a little drained after her years of dealing with both Michael and Roy. Anxious, maybe. Len’s sister had been plagued by anxiety for years, and it often kept her from breaking out of her old habits and trying new things. There would be time to learn that. Len could get her to talk. He could tell that if Jim trusted him, Pam was likely to trust him, too.

“What about Pam?” Len had asked Jim at Poor Richard’s.

“What about her?” Jim replied loudly. The bar was busy and Jim’s volume had gone up after a few beers.

“She seems really nice, but she also seems really quiet.”

Jim shrugged. “She’s just shy. Once you get to know her, you’ll see her personality, and it’s really awesome. She’s hilarious, and fun, and kind, a really, really, kind person.”

“Good, I was worried I might be offending her or something.” Len said.

“No, she’s great. One of the best parts of working for Dunder-Mifflin.” Jim said.

On the way to back from the bar, Len had frantically called his producer, Gerry, and told him about the love triangle aspect of the office. Gerry had seemed intrigued by it. It wasn’t often that a documentary had a storyline like that built right in.


“How much interaction have you seen?” Gerry had asked.

“I’ve only filmed today, but I’m telling you, there’s something there. They aren’t talking about it much, I just have to see them from afar.”

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” Gerry said. “If you get them saying one thing and doing another, that plays right into it.”

“So I should just keep doing what I’m doing?”

“Yeah, but butter them up a little bit. Be friendly with them. Get them to let their guard down around you. Then you might see even more.”


“Hey, I’m sorry about all that with Michael and Dwight,” Jim said back in the break room to Len, who was approaching the coffee machine. “I mean it’s probably not a shock to you by now, after the diversity seminar and Meredith’s ‘birthday’ party, but it’s not easy to be on the receiving end of it, especially your first time.”

“We don’t think he can help it,” Pam said. “Even though we really wish he could.”

“Oh, please, that was nothing,” Len said. “May I?” They nodded and he took a seat with them. “But what he said about you, Pam…I mean I’m kind of glad I didn’t have the camera. You could have been more humiliated and he could have been fired.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Pam said. She was still quiet but visibly relaxing. “It’s not the worst thing he’s ever said to me.”

“That seems like a pretty low bar then,” Len said. “But like you said, it’s not surprising to me. Just three weeks and I think I’ve got enough film evidence for anyone who wants to file a sexual harassment suit.” They softly chuckled and then fell silent. The idea of trying to sue Michael or even get him fired didn’t seem to appeal to him. Despite all of his antics, it seemed like the workers got a fair amount of freedom to do things other than work, which must make it worthwhile to them.

“At least it’s not boring, right?” Len asked, changing his approach.

They shrugged. “Selling paper is pretty boring, but our meetings definitely are not,” Jim said. “That doesn’t make them pleasant or appropriate, but definitely not boring.”

“I discovered a long time ago that it was better to be amused than horrified at what I see,” Pam said. “Though sometimes he goes too far.” She became quiet and stared at the table. Jim stared at her with concern in his eyes. Len stared at them both.

Len knew she was talking about the “prank” Michael had pulled on her on the temp’s first day. How she’d cried and called her boss a jerk. Michael hadn’t quite gone that far again. He was capable of learning, albeit the hard way.

“Do you ever work on your art in the office, Pam?” Len asked.

Pam looked embarrassed. “Um, sometimes when I’m not busy I do little sketches of what I see, or things from memory, but it’s not, like, art or anything.”

“Don’t listen to her, it is art and she’s just great at it. You should really show him your drawings, Pam, they’re really good.” Pam smiled. “Seriously, Len, next time she leaves her desk I’ll show you what drawer to look in.” Pam swatted Jim playfully in the arm.

Len chuckled. “Not sure I’ll ever have to resort to theft, but if you ever feel like showing off your stuff, let me know, I’ll be glad to film it." Pam smiled at him, not a broad smile, but a genuine one.

Len looked at his watch. "Anyway, I’d better get back to work, I’m interviewing Oscar in five minutes and I still have to set everything up.

“See ya,” Jim said.

“Bye, Len,” said Pam with a little wave.

As he left the room he could hear Pam whisper to Jim, "You were right, he is a nice guy."

"Told you," Jim replied. "Nothing to worry about."

Len walked out of the break room and around the corner toward the door. When he was sure Jim and Pam weren’t looking, he retrieved the camera from its hiding place. Upon reaching the break room, he plugged the camera into his laptop and reviewed what he’d shot. Jim and Pam were squarely in the frame, and he was just outside it. He’d caught everything.

---
The producers loved what they saw at the end of the three weeks of shooting. Len’s production had a little bit of everything: a case study in narcissism, office politics, and forbidden love. “You can’t write shit like this,” Gerry had patted his back and said. “Keep it up.” Len’s request for a second cameraman was denied, for now. “Let’s see how you do with what you’ve got.” Gerry had told him. “If you find you need one to catch all the action, if you think you’re missing out on things, we’ll talk.”

Len nodded. “And as far as Jim and Pam goes, should I keep letting them do their own thing, or…”

Gerry thought for a moment. "See what you can do with them,” he said. “Befriend them, see if you can get them to say a bit more, act a little more openly. It’ll make for great television.”

--

“Yes, but how do I know it’s authentic Japanese Deer urine?”

Jim looked up at his desk and gave Len the “are you kidding me?” look that had come to be his trademark. Pam made a face.

“Deer urine?” he mouthed to Jim. Jim shrugged in response and made a face.

Len wasn’t shooting yet. He had come back a week early to mark up notes, get some more background on the “cast,” and get them used to his presence again so that their “performance” would be more natural. Last time around he had done this more or less on the fly. This time he’d come prepared. He felt that this could really be something special, and he wanted to get it right.

Len moved over to the reception desk to watch the scene unfold.

“Because the last time I ordered it was white tail deer from Europe, that’s why I’m asking. You think I’m so easily fooled by this?” Dwight shouted into the phone.

Jim tapped his pencil loudly to try to drown Dwight out.

“Jim, stop that. What? Pay for a sample? I think not!” Dwight laughed and looked at Jim as if to say, “Can you believe this guy?”

“Does he, uh, do this often?” Len whispered to Pam.

“Last week it was feces. I won’t say what kind.”

“Do you know what he uses it for?” Pam shook her head. “Maybe we don’t want to know.”

“If I have to listen to another day of this I’m going to scream.” Pam said, clutching her pink mug of tea.

Jim walked over to reception and took a jellybean. He leaned over the desk more deeply than usual and whispered to Pam in a deep, throaty voice. “Save me.”

Len thought he could see Pam blush ever so slightly and whispered back. “I don’t think I can make him stop, do you?”

“I’m desperate, I’m ready to leave a jar of my own urine on his desk.”

“You know,” Len said. “I had a really annoying roommate once, and I couldn’t get him to stop, so I could only get revenge. I bought him.” They both gave him a quizzical look. “Here, I’ll show you,” he said, leaning over to Pam’s computer. “I hope you’re each willing to chip in $25 bucks for this. Oh, and I hope you’re familiar with Chuck Norris facts.”

Fifteen minutes later, Dwight checked his email.

“What is this?” he demanded. “www.dwightschrute.com? Jim, why did you send me this?”

“It’s my new website. Thought you’d like it.”

“You can’t steal my name like that, Jim!”

“I didn’t steal it, I bought it. I own you now.”

“‘If you can see Dwight Schrute, he can see you. If you can’t see Dwight Schrute, you may be only seconds away from death.’” Dwight read. “That’s true, if unauthorized. ‘Dwight Schrute doesn’t do push-ups, he pushes the earth down.’ That’s scientifically impossible. ‘Dwight Schrute does not believe in Germany.’ Jim! Shut this down. Shut it down!”

“Well I’m afraid I can’t do that, it’s on the internet.”

“Then give me control of the website.”

“Two hundred bucks and it’s yours.”

Kelly came bursting through the door. “Oh my god, Dwight, is it true you’ve never blinked in your life? Ever?”

“That is a lie, Kelly. Observe.” Dwight proceeded to blink his eyes in rapid succession.

“Dwight!” Kevin said as he rushed over. “Your website says that you don’t need to swallow while eating food. Teach me.”

Pam and Jim shared a smile, then sneaked a look over to Len, who was also smiling. They may not be sophisticated people, but they could be really fun.

--

Michael’s appearance may have changed, but his personality hadn’t. Not by much, anyway. Rather than try to entertain as an edgy comedian, he seemed to have opted for an old-fashioned emcee gig at his own awards show: the Dundies.

Len watched as Roy and Darryl made plans to go to Poor Richard’s. How Pam had reluctantly joined them. How Michael had been offended and Jim pained to see her go. Len knew she wasn’t planning on having fun at the Dundies, but he could tell she was likely to have even less fun at Poor Richard’s. As Pam and Roy walked out the door, he saw Pam glance over her shoulder at Jim, whom Len was filming with Ryan at their table. Roy took her none-too-gently by the arm and escorted her outside. All eyes were on Michael or their menus. On a whim, Len followed Pam and Roy outside.

When he quietly stepped out of the doorway and into the parking lot, Roy and Pam had just reached their truck. Roy was making his way around to the driver’s side as Pam opened the passenger door and abruptly shut it. Len could barely hear them

“I don’t want to go, Roy.” She said.

“What do you mean, Babe?”

“What do you think it means, I said I don’t want to go.”

Roy shook his head and came back. “Come on, what are we going to do, stay here? It’s stupid.”

“But I promised I’d stay.”

“And I promised Darryl we’d go to Poor Richard’s.”

“What about me? What about what I want?”

Roy looked exasperated. “Look, what’s the point? It’s a stupid awards show with our idiot boss making an ass out of himself. It’s the same thing every year, we have a chance to skip it, let’s do it.”

Pam looked furious. Len hoisted the camera onto his shoulder and aimed it at him. He saw it was off. You idiot, he said. Won’t make this mistake again. By the time he switched it on and brought Pam and Roy into focus from across the lot, they were screaming at each other. Roy grabbed at Pam’s arm, pulling her toward him. She pulled away. Len stiffened, wondering if he’d have to go out there and break up a fight. Thankfully Pam walked away from Roy and back toward the bar.

“If you had asked me, then you would know,” she shouted as she left.

Roy muttered something to himself, got in the truck, and sped off. Pam turned to watch him speed off, looking furious. Her fiancé had chosen his friends over her, again. Len had seen it from his very first day of shooting. Seeing his opportunity, he quickly dropped set the camera on the ground.

“Pam?” He asked. She looked up, her eyes red. She brushed them quickly.

“Hey, Len, I, uh, I thought you’d be inside filming the show.”

“I was, I was, I just…well, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh, god, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I bet everyone in there saw us go and now they’re all talking about it.” Her eyes welled with tears again. “Is it supposed to be this hard?”

Len shifted his feet. Pam had definitely been opening up to him more, even with the camera around, but this vulnerability, this pain…she must really be upset.

“I think all relationships need work sometimes,” he said. “And no one is perfect.”

“Yeah,” she sniffed. “I just…God I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I don’t have a ride home and I can’t go back in there.” She began to cry.

“Why not?” asked Len. “Hey, hey, don’t be upset. I promise you no one even saw you leave, they were either ordering their drinks or watching Michael and his ‘stand up.’ Really.” He smiled at her and patted her arm, holding it a bit, meeting her eyes. “Have a drink or two, you’ll feel better. I’ll even buy your first round.”

She laughed nervously. “I, uh, I don’t really drink.”

“Well, give it a try. Always loosens me up when I’m upset.” Pam nodded, rubbing her eyes. She didn’t wear mascara; if she had, black streaks surely would have appeared down her cheeks.

“Yeah…okay.” She nodded. “Do I look okay?”

He smiled. “You look great. Come on back in, you’ll have fun. Plus, it’s my first Dundies, it’s a momentous event.”

Pam hesitated, then nodded.

--

Len couldn’t have planned this better if he’d scripted it. Michael had called a break to go change costume, and Ryan had taken the opportunity to move to a table way in the back, trying desperately to blend in with the other faces. Jim, sitting by himself and looking forlorn, was immediately joined by Pam, who helped herself to his beer. And then two margaritas. And then half a mai tai. He could tell that she hadn’t been lying, she wasn’t much of a drinker. She wasn’t pacing herself, she was overly-confident that she was not drunk, and she was insisting, insisting, that she was fine.

“You were so right,” she said loudly to Len as he stopped filming during a break to reload the batteries. “I feel so much better. Thank you!” And threw her arms around him. He bought her a Singapore Sling.

By the time Pam’s award came up, she was three sheets to the wind.

“I really feel God in this Chili’s tonight. WOOOO!!!”

And she stumbled into Jim’s waiting arms, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. Jim looked stunned yet thrilled. No one else seemed to think much of it. Len was shocked. He thought that these two might have built up to this moment over months, years, maybe on the eve of Pam’s impending wedding. And here it was, laid out for him, in full view of her coworkers and the camera.

“I’m not surprised,” Phyllis told Len as he interviewed her next to the ladies’ room. “I’ve suspected it for years. Besides, it’s normal to have a fling with a coworker.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I mean, we’ve all done it, right?”

Pam stumbled past them, giggling, and clumsily pushed her way into the bathroom. The door shut, and they heard a crash. Phyllis sighed. “I’d better go help her.”

Len walked back out to the restaurant and saw Jim sitting alone at the bar. “So, quite a night, huh?” Len asked.

Jim smiled. “Quite a night.”

“So, is this the first time that you guys have…?” Len trailed off.

Jim shook his head quickly, eye on the camera sitting on the table. “No, no, never. And I mean it doesn’t mean anything, she’s drunk, she’s engaged…” he trailed off. “We’re friends.”

“She kissed you, man.” Len said.

Jim stared down into his beer. “She’s engaged,” he repeated, more softly and less convincingly than he did last time. There was sadness in his voice.

Len made a show of turning off the camera and closing up the lens cap. “Look, man, I know I don’t really know you guys or anything like that, and I’m just an observer in all of this. I don’t really have experience with this sort of thing either. But I am going to tell you this: I don’t know many happily engaged women who kiss other men when they have the chance. And I don’t think she did it as revenge, either.”

Jim’s eyes never left his beer, but Len could tell he was thinking something he hadn’t really let himself think about before.
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