A couple of years ago, my old boss, Michael Scott, wrote a book. I’m sure you’ve heard of it, The Michael Scott Story by Michael Scott, (which was actually ghostwritten by Dwight Schrute). The book was about his entire life and, surprisingly to me it did relatively well, possibly because it was released on the coat tails of the documentary ending. You know the documentary I’m talking about, the one that followed the lives of my coworkers and me when we all worked at Dunder-Mifflin. So, he wrote this book and then it became a hit. And then the movie came out. Honestly, I wouldn’t bother with any of it if it weren’t for the fact that my husband and I are so directly involved.

I need to set the record straight. The movie? Black and white. And the girl who played me? Well, I don’t believe she’ll be winning any Oscars anytime soon. Michael’s book, I should point out, even though it’s clearly obvious, is highly exaggerated. A lot of it is untrue. I’m sorry to disappoint you but no matter how much Michael Scott insists that it’s real, there is no secret sex tape of Jim and I screwing around in the office. And I did not appreciate that the movie producers felt they needed to reenact that, especially since my daughters accompanied me to see the film and were subjected to something I can only describe as painfully incorrect.

The most accurate portrayal of my life is the documentary itself, but even that was highly edited, and I can see where there’s a lot of room for interpretation. But since Michael’s book and the new movie have given such a skewed view of my life, I’ve decided that maybe it’s time to get my version of the story out there.

--

Dunder-Mifflin, in case you were wondering, was founded in 1949 by Robert Dunder and Robert Mifflin. Rob and Bob as so I’m told they were called. And Dunder-Mifflin was a company that sold brackets to construction companies. By the early ‘70s, they began to sell office supply products and by the late ‘70s, they sold only office supply products, emphasizing in paper. In 1983, the Scranton Business Park was built and Dunder-Mifflin moved in, the second business to do so. And at the turn of the millennium, the mildly successful, yet teetering company needed a new receptionist and I needed a job….

I found the job through a placement agency and within a few days, I was seated in a cramped conference room across from a very exuberant regional manager and a meek and timid HR rep. As I’ve gotten older, I have forgotten a lot of things, but meeting Michael Scott has not been one of them.

“She’s hot, let’s hire her,” was the first thing I ever heard Michael Scott say. Michael looked a little different then. He was somewhat heavier, his hair a little greasier, but his obliviousness and self-unawareness in social situations has never changed.

I was nervous to begin with; hearing him say that didn’t make the situation any better and I was uncomfortable being interviewed by a man who was blatantly checking me out.

“Michael, that’s inappropriate,” Toby Flenderson replied. I still keep in touch with Toby from time to time and I can honestly say that he has changed as little as Michael. He was newly married then but still squirmy in his seat, fidgety, playing with his wedding ring as he tried to rein Michael in. When Toby spoke, it was quiet and with a slight whine. “I think we need to ask her a few questions first to see if she can do the job.”

“Why are you even here?” Michael asked sharply, his head snapping towards Toby. I hadn’t even spoken a word yet, remaining as calm as possible, ankles crossed, hands entwined and set in lap, trying to be as ladylike as possible. Michael didn’t seem to notice me in that moment; all I could see was the hatred for Toby on his face. To this day, I couldn’t tell you the exact reason that Michael had such dislike for Toby, I can only say that I was witness to it from the beginning.

“I have to be here,” Toby responded in his subdued way. “Remember? Jan said,” Toby’s voice faded the more Michael glared at him. “Jan said we both needed to—“

“No,” Michael snapped. “Why are you on this planet. Bothering me. Forever bothering me you are. You are just so…”

Toby began to talk over him. “So, Ms. Beesly, it says on your resume you worked as the night receptionist for at Marywood.” Toby didn’t look at me as he spoke, staring intently at my resume. “Do you think any of your skills would apply here?”

I nodded and began to speak but Michael cut me off. “Can you type fast?”

“Uh,” I stammered. “I can type ninety words per minute.” It wasn’t a lie. I could type ninety words per minute then and hell, yeah I could still do it now if you asked.

“Can you use a fax?” Michael asked.

“Uh, sure,” I replied. I didn’t know how to use a fax but it ended up being simple to learn.

“Can you play a musical instrument?”

“Michael…” Toby interjected. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Michael scoffed, waving him off with his hand.

I nervously shifted in my seat. The two other jobs I had before never required official interviews but I knew the situation I was in was not a normal interview. “I don’t really know how to play an instrument,” I gave. “But I can draw.”

Michael’s face lit up. “”Can you draw anything?”

“I—“ I began to nod slowly.

“Michael,” Toby tried again, attempting to regain control of the interview. “I have an entire list of questions that we can use to help determine—“

“She’s hired,” Michael insisted.

I was excited about the job but the frown plastered on Toby’s face worried me. “Michael, we have twenty other applicants not to mention—“

“Are they here?”

“No but—“

“Then shut it.”

“Mi-“

“Shut. It.”

I should have picked up on the fact, after watching how Michael treated Toby in the interview, that maybe Dunder-Mifflin wasn’t the greatest place to work. Michael essentially became like a child that I would need to care for and what I was paid, especially in those early, was not enough for the amount of scrutiny I went through. But I took the job anyway.

--

Not many people ask me about my first day at Dunder-Mifflin. Jim gets the question all the time but he also loves telling the story. And I’ll bet Michael gets asked as well or will tell anyone even if he’s not. I know I’ve heard Ryan and Erin talk about their first days in various interviews. But I’m not sure I’ve spoken about my first day much.

There wasn’t anyone to welcome me when I arrived. The old receptionist, a woman named Barb, who had worked for the company for nearly thirty years, had recently retired and was already gone by the time my first day rolled around. I was early that day and I stood near the reception desk, watching people arrive for work, most of them not even giving me a second look as they passed me. Eventually, Toby arrived and I spent the morning doing paperwork. There wasn’t any training involved, after I was done with all the paperwork, he sent me back to the reception desk with only the Dunder-Mifflin official employee handbook to look through.

The handbook took about five minutes to get through and then I cleaned up what little was on the desk. I hadn’t brought any personal items with me and Barb had cleared out nearly everything, so there wasn’t much to rearrange. I did have a computer that originally was on a smaller desk behind me, where I suspected originally a typewriter had been. The computer was ancient even for that time and when I turned it on, I found that not only did it not have internet access, it didn’t even have solitaire. So, for the next forty-five minutes, I sat quietly at the reception desk watching my coworkers as they went about their day and pondering if there was something I should be doing.

Eventually, the phone rang. At first, I wasn’t sure if I was the one who was supposed to be answering it but when no one made any attempts to get it, I picked up the receiver.

“Thank you for calling Dunder-Mifflin Paper, this is Pam, how may I assist you?” I recited, my voice a little shaky.

“Jan Levenson-Gould for Michael Scott,” a cold voice came through.

“Uh, just a second,” I stammered as I stared blankly at the phone. A list of transfer numbers were taped to the phone but not sure how it worked, I ended up hanging up on Jan. I was glad that at the time I didn’t know who she was or else I would have felt worse about hanging up on my boss’s boss. She called back a minute later, using a shorter tone with me the second time.

I made sure I got the transfer right. “Michael,” I said into the phone. For some reason the blinds were drawn and I couldn’t see what he was doing in his office. I later learned that when the blinds were drawn, I didn’t want to know.

“Barb?” He asked into the phone.

I paused a moment, a little shocked that he didn’t know who I was. “No, Barb isn’t here, this is Pam, the new receptionist.”

There was a rustling on the other line and suddenly the blinds whipped open, Michael appearing on the other side of the glass. “Oh, Pam, right. My new hot receptionist is here,” he giggled. I wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that Michael hadn’t noticed I wasn’t his old receptionist for the first part of the morning or that he referred to me as the hot receptionist, a title that stuck with me for most of my first year until we had an intern named Jen come to work with us that summer. She was nineteen, blonde, and Michael felt she was much hotter than I was. She wasn’t, however, the hottest intern that would come work for us, according to Michael but I’m sure you can guess who he felt was. “What can I do for you?”

The red light blinking on the phone almost felt like it was Jan herself. “There’s a Jan Levenson-Gould on the phone for you.”

He scoffed. “I don’t feel like talking to her.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. “Um, do you want me to take a message?”

“Yeah, tell her I’m busy,” Michael said, promptly hanging up the phone.

When I went to change lines, I accidentally hung up on Jan for the second time. I could tell she was getting pissed off when she called back. “Just give the phone to Michael,” she pleaded.

I got the sense that she was close to yelling so I tried to be polite as possible. “Um, I’m sorry Ms. Levenson-Gould but Mr. Scott is busy right now, can I take a message?”

Jan let out a grunt. “He’s busy, really?” She was correct in being skeptical, all Michael was doing was playing with the toys on his desk.

“Uh…” I stuttered. “Yup.” It was the first lie I ever told for Michael Scott. As you know, it wouldn’t be the last.

“Fine,” Jan huffed. “You tell him, though, that if he doesn’t get back to me by one, his boss will drive down from New York to talk with him personally because she’s tired of him avoiding her.”

“Alright, no problem,” I said as calmly as possible as it dawned on me that Jan was from corporate. Feeling that Jan’s threat was genuine, I went to give Michael the message. “Jan said you need to return the call as soon as possible,” I told him, attempting to imply that it was serious that he do so. “She said she would come from New York if you didn’t.”

Michael was too preoccupied with his Koosh-ball. “Pam, what is in these things that make them so bouncy?”

“It’s probably the rubber,” I answered, unsure as to why it was so important to him. “Michael, I really think you should call Ms. Levenson-Gould back. She didn’t sound happy.”

“Rubber, really?” Michael was fascinated with the little toy, holding it by one of it’s many arms and jiggling it around. “You think this is the same stuff they put in fake boobs?”

My jaw dropped, speechless. “I…” I didn’t know whether to respond or not. Instead, I chose to refocus Michael. “I really think you should call her back, I don’t think it’s good if she comes down from New York.”

Michael looked up, only comprehending the last part of the message. “Oh, she said she was coming? Why did she bother calling then? Haven’t seen her since last week. Hey, Pam, think fast.” Without warning, Michael threw the Koosh-ball at me. It hit my arm and fell to the ground. Michael burst out laughing like a child.

I remained standing there, a blank look on my face. Michael didn’t act like a normal boss. Michael didn’t even act like a normal human being.

“Oh, you’re no fun,” he said dismissively. “Why are the hot ones never fun?”

I let out a sigh. “I don’t know,” I said shaking my head.

He went back to playing with his toys. I stayed for a moment, waiting if there was anything else he wanted but when he made no attempt to speak further to me, I left his office.

The rest of the day slipped by with little incident. Before lunch, Angela had me copy, double-side and staple, a stack of papers for her and then yelled at me when I didn’t do it to her standards. Stanley had me do a fax, which I got correct on the first try. And Creed, who I found out had been the longest standing employee there, came up to my desk mentioned to me that my scoop neck blouse wasn’t revealing enough. It was after that I decided I should start dressing more conservatively at work.

Lunch was lonely. I sat a table by myself with my lunch packed in a brown, paper-bag while the others sat in groups all chatting and gossiping. There were a few looks in my direction but no one said a word to me and it felt a lot like being in middle school again. I ended up eating alone for the first few months until Roy was hired in the warehouse and would join me twice a week. After lunch, the only person who paid any attention to me, Toby, asked if I was enjoying my first day. I gave him a shrug. I could have commented on Michael’s behavior or how I felt like an outsider with my coworkers but feeling that none of it really mattered, I kept quiet.

The rest of the afternoon was spent taking phone calls, doing easy tasks such as copying and faxing, and enduring a long conference room meeting with Michael that didn’t seem to hold any purpose. I slowly was growing into my job. By the end of the day, I had the phones down. By the end of the week, I knew how to use the copier like a pro and by the end of the month, I felt like I had been doing the job for years.

I met Dwight in the afternoon after he returned from a morning full of sales calls. I wish I had a spectacular first Dwight story but he didn’t say two words to me the whole first day. He was busy talking with Miles, the salesman who occupied the desk next to his, arguing that his new small business idea was worthless and raving about how well his beet farm was doing, pointing out that if Miles really wanted to be successful, he would have to go into agriculture.

Miles was a handsome man. He was twice my age and had trained in the army. I could tell underneath his crisp, clean suits that he was built and I couldn’t help but stare at him from time to time. But more than that, he seemed like a nice guy and would occasionally come up to reception and talk to me, the only person, besides Toby that would ever do so in those early years. I still was very much in young love with Roy at that point but my eyes would often wander to that desk. He did leave a month after my first day to start that company. I don’t remember what it was, something I believe having to do with computers but whatever his idea, I’m sure it was more interesting than beet farming. And for reasons I couldn’t explain, even though we were barely work friends, I felt a little sad when he left. The desk next to Dwight remained empty for another two years.

Miles wouldn’t be the only personnel change in my early life at Dunder-Mifflin. Marjorie, once head of supplier relations, almost after the documentary started since she didn’t want to be on camera. The documentary crew had already started shooting when Meredith took her position. Kevin started six months after I did. Four accountants was a bit much but two weeks before the documentary started shooting, unfortunately, one of the accountants, Tom, killed himself and it was no longer an issue. Kelly was hired a year after I was. The girl who used to work in customer relations quit to find a better job and a young, but still overly cheerful, Kelly took her place. I thought it would be nice to have someone close in age work with me but after a week of Kelly’s incessant chatter, I decided I would rather be alone at work and was grateful her desk was in the annex…poor Toby.

People came and people went but for the most part everything stayed the same.

I used to think a lot about Barb in those earlier days, picturing her doing the same job I was, only for most of her life. I often wondered if she ever enjoyed the same empty grind of menial tasks that required no thought. I wondered if she took pride in her work or if she, like me, drudged on day after day, hoping that something would change. I might have thought that my first day was atypical, that something would change once I settled in but no, that was how it was, unchanging, monotonous, dreary.

That was my life. Until the day I met my husband.

If you ask Jim about when we first met, he’ll tell you this romantic story about when he walked into the office that first morning, he laid eyes on the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. I find that amusing since by that time, I had already mastered the look of frumpy secretary. He’ll continue on, then, and tell you that by the time I walked him to his desk, he knew he liked me. After lunch, he knew he loved me. And by the end of the day, he knew I was the one. It sounds exaggerated, I know, especially when he tells reporters and the story comes off as a monologue from a cheesy romantic comedy. But the story he’s told me, the version that only I know, not a detail has ever wavered and, well, I can say that I believe Jim knew we were meant to be together from the very beginning.

I, however, have a different version of the story since, at the time, I had thought I already had found the one. Roy and I weren’t engaged at that point but we were living together and I had become so settled in my relationship with him that it never occurred to me that someone else could be the one. When I first heard that Dunder-Mifflin had hired a new salesman, I was prepared to welcome in another Dwight or Stanley. I didn’t think it would be this fresh out of college, eager, energetic guy my own age. And I definitely didn’t think, when Jim walked into the office that day, with more optimism then you ever got to see in the documentary, that that guy would be the one that I spent the rest of my life with.

He was cute. That’s what I first thought of Jim Halpert when he walked in with his Jim Carrey Cable Guy haircut, suit that was too big, mismatched tie, and wide, goofy grin. And I remember wondering, as he shook my hand and introduced himself, when I stopped noticing cute guys. Jim always tells me, when I recount my story, that I was meant to start noticing again.

The only way I remember our first exchange was because Jim can recount it word for word. My memory is sketchy so I have to take his word on it. What I remember was the way he looked at me, directly at me. He noticed me. Really noticed me. Noticed that there was this girl, and her name was Pam, and that she was a person. I was so used to playing the roll of secretary or girlfriend or daughter or coworker that there was a part of me that had forgotten how to just be Pam. Meeting Jim reminded me.

--

“Enjoy this moment, because you’re never going to go back to this time before you met your desk mate, Dwight.”

Jim’s eyes were filled with intrigue and wonder when I took him to his desk. He was supposed to be at an empty desk near Creed, Michael wanting to keep Miles’ old desk open in case Todd Packer ever wanted to return from the road. But Jim was too cute to be sitting that far away, so I changed it, and subsequently, became the one responsible for originally subjecting Jim to Dwight.

I noticed how Jim watched Dwight with great interest as we approached. Dwight had an array of four flower pots on his desk, a variety of bottles, and had his face close to the pot nearest him as he delicately used an eyedropper to place some unknown red liquid into the soil. Jim glanced back at me, incredulous and I gave him a shrug, as if to suggest that I had no idea what Dwight was up to. I didn’t know but I remained the calm observer, secretly amused as to how this would play out. I took delight in anyone meeting Dwight for the first time.

“Hi, I’m Jim Halpert,” Jim said, holding out his hand. The messenger bag that had rested on his shoulder slipped a little and he bounced it up again.

Dwight made no movement, his eyes remained fixed on what he was doing. “I’m busy,” he replied shortly.

Jim, again, turned to me, an unsure look on his face as his hand slowly dropped.

“Dwight,” I said. “Jim’s our new sales rep. Remember? Michael said he had hired someone new?”

Dwight’s beady eyes lifted for a moment, spending only a second checking Jim out. “Right. Why are you bringing him over here, Pam? I thought he was supposed to sit in the back.”

“Well, Michael changed his mind,” I lied with a grin.

“Fine,” Dwight said, going back to his experiment. “You will sit there quietly and not disturb my experiments.”

We both watched Dwight for a moment before Jim spoke again. “Aren’t you supposed to be selling paper?”

“Pfft,” Dwight said, waving him off. “I’ve probably sold more paper in the past hour than you will all day. I’ve even met my goal for the day.”

“You’ve met all your goals for the day by ten?” Jim said in disbelief.

“Of course. What about you Mr. Hotshot New Guy? What were your stats at the last place you worked? I can tell just by looking at you that you couldn’t have been even a decent salesman.” Dwight looked at him as if he were interrogating him for a crime.

“I, uh—this is my first job,” Jim admitted. “Yeah, I graduated last May and I was originally going to—“

“Save your life story for someone who cares,” Dwight brushed him off.

The comment was a bit harsh and there was a part of me that felt bad that I was putting Jim next to Dwight. I gave Jim a reassuring smile.

“So, Dwight, what exactly are you doing, anyway?” I asked, knowing that whatever it was would be a great source of amusement.

“Well, if you really must know, I’m concocting the perfect serum to grow the perfect beet,” Dwight answered without thought.

“Beets, really, wow,” Jim said looking as though he wasn’t sure how to handle Dwight. “Why beets?”

“Dwight thinks he’s a farmer because he supposedly owns a beet farm,” I explained.

“I am a farmer Pam,” Dwight said firmly. “As well as a respected paper salesman.”

“Right,” I responded. “How come you’ve never sold any beets here?”

“This is a paper company, Pam,” Dwight said with a scoff. “If you want to have my beets, you’ll have to become a grocer and stock beets, only I wouldn’t sell you my beets because your grocery story would not do well enough for me to invest in it.”

I placed a hand to my mouth, stifling a laugh. Jim looked at me with wide eyes.

“So, what’s in this formula you’re creating?” Jim asked with mild curiosity.

“It’s a secret,” Dwight answered sharply. "If I give it to you then you can sell it to my competitors, thus putting me out of business.”

Jim gave me a glance as if to ask if Dwight were real. I nodded slowly, silently assuring him that Dwight was, unfortunately, very real.

--

Some time in the mid morning, after Jim had returned from doing all of his paper work, he came up to my desk with a VHS tape. “Can I help you?” I asked.

He looked incredibly amused about something. “This is my orientation video. Michael said that you knew how to work the VCR and told me to ask you to set it up.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said grabbing the tape. I noticed the label. “Oh my god, he finished it,” I said.

Jim looked confused. “Finished what.”

“The Scranton Witch Project,” I said with a laugh, holding up the tape so Jim could see the label. “Michael considers himself to be an amateur film maker. I can’t believe he’s making you watch this as an orientation film. Do you mind if I watch it with you?”

“Wow, yes, please watch with me,” Jim said excitedly.

We set up in the conference room, pushing two chairs in front of the TV to watch. Michael’s orientation film was as bad as any of the ones I had seen up to that point and Jim and I were laughing within the first five minutes.

About half way through the film, Jim shifted in his chair, leaning more in my direction. His arm brushed against mine and I realized just how close we were. I turned my head to see that he was looking at me and not at the screen, a warm smile on his face. Our eyes locked and I noticed that he had the most beautiful, kind green eyes that I had ever seen. My breath caught and I felt an unfamiliar twisting in my stomach. Most people call it the butterflies but I didn’t recognize the feeling at the time. I leaned away, putting more distance between us but it didn’t stop the feeling from being there.

I turned my head, trying to focus back on the film. Jim’s gaze lingered on me for a moment before he, too, turned back towards the TV. We remained silent throughout the rest of the film.

--

At lunch, I was seated at a table with Kelly and Phyllis. Kelly was chattering on about celebrity crushes as Phyllis nodded intently, every once in a while chiming in with a comment or two. I was spaced out, picking at my salad with my fork. I never did have much in common with the other women of the office.

Jim came in then, unsure of where to sit, like a kid on their first day at a new school. He took an empty table next to mine, slowly unpacking his lunch. I threw a smile in his direction and he gave me a warm smile back. We both ate quietly as Kelly continued to babble on. Occasionally, I’d throw Jim an eye-roll or a smirk when Kelly would say something crazy. He laughed.

Kelly’s back was turned to Jim so she couldn’t see him and after about ten minutes of listening to her, Jim began to mime her actions, causing me to giggle. Kelly was so unaware that she didn’t even notice. Phyllis did and took a second to glance between Jim and I. She gave me a wink.

Feeling that I probably shouldn’t have been making fun of Kelly with her sitting there and thinking that Jim would be better company, I gathered my lunch and took it to the table where he was sitting.

“Mind if I sit here?” I asked, placing my salad down on the table.

“I don’t know, it is kinda crowded,” he responded.

I sat down next to him. We ate in silence for a moment, both giving each other looks while Kelly rambled on about boy bands. Eventually, she and Phyllis got up and left, leaving Jim and I alone in the breakroom. “So, I have an important question for you. How are you holding up now that N’Sync has decided to take a break?” I asked with a snicker.

“Well, I was heartbroken, sure,” Jim deadpanned. “But, I’ll be honest, I’m much more of a Backstreet Boys fan.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” I said shaking my head. “And here I thought we could be friends. You started out as such a cool guy.”

He looked at me earnestly. “You think I’m a cool guy?”

“Jim,” I said in all seriousness. “You are by far, the most interesting person to ever enter this office. So that fact alone makes you pretty cool by me.”

He smiled and sat back in his chair thoughtfully. “Thank you.”


--

“Uh, Pam, could I possibly get your help?” Jim was up at my desk just after lunch holding a badly copied sales report. I couldn’t help but let out a little laugh, having never seen a copy done so askew. Jim let out a sigh. “Okay, you may think it’s funny but I’m convinced that the copier hates me,” he joked.

“The copier is like an old man,” I replied as I came around my desk. “It’s cranky and hates everyone. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

“No,” he said with a laugh as we both headed to the copier. “I’m pretty sure the cranky old man hates me more than anyone else. I’ve been trying to get the thing to work for twenty minutes.”

“Well, maybe you’ll just have to learn from an expert,” I replied as I took his original from him.

“”Oh, really, are you calling an expert in, then?” he teased. “Oh, you mean you. Right. Did you have to take a class or something?”

“Yes, two of them,” I responded. “And I’m now certified. They gave me a piece of paper and everything. I’ll make you a copy. I’d have you make a copy yourself but you apparently suck at it.”

“Apparently, I do.”

He watched carefully as I showed him how to do a simple copy and a double-sided one. Jim is actually a quick learner, something I’ve picked up on over the years, so the fact that he would be back consistently over the next few weeks, claiming he still couldn’t get the copier to work was a bit unbelievable. A month or so later, when he didn’t know I was looking, I saw him use the copier perfectly. I never called him out on it, thinking it was a game and not wanting to give up the charade.

It wasn’t until years later that I realized getting me to help him with the copier was one of his ways of flirting.

--

Michael gave his usual mid-afternoon conference room meeting. Even when he had nothing to talk about, he always gave the same meeting. Who knows what insane thing Michael was going on about. It might have been a get rich scheme he had discovered on the internet. It might have been a discussion on how to get a girl he had met a coffee shop to go out with him. Whatever it was, it rarely pertained to selling paper.

All I remember from that meeting was that I was sitting in the back corner and Jim sat at the table. Any time Michael would say something outrageous, he would throw me a look of astonishment, as if to ask if Michael were real. After years of insane meetings, I had grown used to it but Jim’s reactions reminded me just how crazy the place I worked in really was.

I would laugh and shrug in return. As time went by, the astonished looks grew into smirks and eye-rolls. Those famous looks he would eventually give to the camera first went to me and I was amused every time.

--

The end of my day had always been slow. For whatever reason, less paper seemed to be sold at the end of the day then at the beginning, therefore, I had less to do. So, that was the time I usually got out my sketchbook and would work on my drawings. It had always been a peaceful part of my day; one that I looked forward to because it always made those last few hours fly by. Though, that day, when I noticed that the clock read three, I couldn’t believe that the end of the day was near.

I had just started sketching when Jim came to my desk, leaned on the counter, and grabbed a few jellybeans, popping them in his mouth as if it had always been his daily ritual. “Whatcha doing?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” I replied as if it were no big deal. I don’t remember what I was drawing, probably my pencil cup or stapler, as I did a lot of sketches of office supplies, but nothing memorable. “I like to draw sometimes. I’m an art fan.”

“Can I see?” he asked, his eyes letting me know he was genuine in his request.

No one besides my parents ever asked to see my artwork. “Um, sure,” I said handing him the sketchbook. “It’s just a hobby, nothing special.”

His eyes examined my sketches with great interest. “Wow…Pam,” he said, his amazement not false. “These are awesome.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said as he slowly flipped through the book. “Why aren’t you off being an artist somewhere?”

I shrugged. I didn’t have an answer for him. Or maybe the answer was too complicated.

“Well, I think they’re good,” he said as if he were the resounding expert on the subject.

For some reason, his opinion resonated and for the first time in a long time, I felt very encouraged.

--

I was finishing up the last of my faxes when Jim came up to the desk, his jacket on, his messenger bag around his shoulders, ready to leave for the day.

“Have a good first day?” I asked.

“Yeah, actually,” he answered to my surprise. He gave me a half smile that was more serious than I expected it to be. “I think I’m going to like working here.”

My jaw dropped slightly and I shook my head. “You say that now… I’ll ask again in a few years.”

He let out a laugh but didn’t reply. Instead, he anxiously drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment. “I, uh,” he stopped, as if thinking hard about what he was going to say next. He let out a little sigh and gave a half grin “I’ll see you tomorrow, k? Have a great night.”

I got the impression, and years later I learned my suspicions were correct, that Jim was going to say something else in that moment.

I gave him a warm smile. “Have a good evening, Jim. Because tomorrow, we get to do this all over again.”

--

“You seem different,” Roy commented when we returned home that evening.

I was getting dinner ready, a bounce in my step as I got out a pot for spaghetti. “I just had a good day at work,” I said with a shrug.

Truth was, I don’t think I had ever had such a good day at work and the change was so noticeable that even Roy felt he should comment. “What happened, Michael get fired or something?” He asked.

“No, I just—“ I hadn’t really stopped to think about it. “No, we just got a new guy and he seemed cool,” I responded nonchalantly. “Made the day go faster.”

Roy eyed me almost suspiciously. At the time, I was grateful that a day at work had flown by. It hadn’t occurred to me that Jim was the specific reason.

“Really? Some guy?”

I gave him a smirk, wrapping my arms around him. “I just had a good day, that’s all.” I gave him a playful kiss.

He should have been rightfully worried but he wasn’t. Instead, he wrapped me up in his arms, liking this new version of me. The one that was much more alive. He kissed me back. “Well, I think you should have good days more often.”

I did have good days more often, much to Roy’s delight but they became more complicated as well. I was falling in love with one man while falling out of love with another and by the time I comprehended what was going on, I had dug myself into a very deep hole.

Let me take a step back and talk about Roy for a moment. He’s often characterized as a villain or as being only a dumb jock that doesn’t know what’s going on in front him. Or sometimes I’m criticized for staying with Roy when I had Jim right in front of me. I think what people may not realize or maybe forget, is that Roy was my first love and first loves can be very powerful. And I’ll stand by a statement I’ve made many times before; that Roy isn’t a bad guy, just the wrong one for me.

Around the time that Jim started working at Dunder-Mifflin, with maybe of the exception of when Roy and I first began dating, was, ironically, the closest I ever felt to Roy. And while most people forget that I have been engaged twice--even to me it feels like a distant memory--there is one thing that I do remember clearly: the night Roy asked me to marry him.

It was a Friday. Jim had started the Monday before and I have often wondered if the two were related. Maybe my obvious interest in Jim had given Roy the kick in the pants he needed to officially solidify our relationship. Whatever the case, that afternoon, Roy insisted that I go shopping with my sister so that I would be out of the house. He seemed unusually giddy and I couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to.

When I returned home that evening, the first thing I noticed was that the house was clean. I can’t say that either Roy or I were clean people but when the household cleaning needed to get done, I was always the one to do it. But to be fair, Roy took care of other things, like the car, the roof, the front lawn. So, I can’t begin to describe how happy I was when I came in and everything was picked up. There were no clothes or magazines lying around, no bags of garbage sitting there ready to be taken out, the shoes were nice and neat along the wall. The living room had even been dusted and I could smell the lemony scent of Pledge.

I placed my bags and purse down, calling out Roy’s name, but I received no answer. I could hear him, though, rummaging around in the kitchen. If the rest of the house was clean, the kitchen was the complete opposite, a disaster. There were pots and pans everywhere. Utensils, paper towels, bowls, bottles, boxes, and bits of food lined the counters. And there stood Roy, hunched over the stove attempting to stir whatever was in the big pot. He didn’t hear me come in and was startled when I poked him in the shoulder.

“God…damn, Pam,” he said swirling around. “You scared me. I’m not done yet, I thought you were going to be out until a little later.”

“Penny said she needed to get some studying done before she went out later tonight,” I explained, giving him a half grin. “So? What is all this?”

“Well, it was going to be a surprise,” he said, taking the contents of the pot, which looked like thick noodles, and placed them in a serving bowl. “But I decided I would cook your favorite meal tonight.”

I looked at him suspiciously. My first reaction was that he had done something wrong and this was his way of apologizing. “Is something wrong?” I asked, panicking slightly.

“No, no, nothing like that,” he assured me. Then a broad grin formed on his face, he was giddy about something, what I couldn’t tell. “It’s a surprise.”

I nodded, still unsure. Roy leaned down to give me a quick, affectionate kiss, then took me over to the dining room table, which had been set. Now, he had used all paper and plastic products to set the table with but for Roy, who usually ate whatever was for dinner straight from the box, it was his way of being fancy. He could have used our real dishes but it appeared the dishwasher hadn’t been run. He had also placed a candle in the middle of the table, but it remained unlit, and I wondered if he had planned on having it all ready to go by the time I had returned.

Dinner was ready ten minutes later. It wasn’t the best chicken fettuccini alfredo I have ever had, the chicken was dry, the noodles were over cooked and the sauce was runny, but I have to give Roy a lot of credit. When I lived with him, Roy had a hard time making grilled cheese. During dinner we chatted, Roy asking about my day and how my sister was. This too, was unusual since Roy and I didn’t often inquiry as to how my life was and it had been a long time since the two of us had a nice, sit-down chat. But I took it as a good sign, a hopeful one, that Roy was finally getting his act together.

After dinner, Roy took me to the living room, more excited and giddy than a little child at Christmas. He turned on the stereo and Jewel’s You Were Meant For Me played over the speakers. It was our song; special to us because it was the last dance at the prom we went to years before when we had just started dating. I felt chills run through me as he held me close and we swayed to the music for a minute.

Then, he got down on one knee and my heart began to race. “Pam.” Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a small black box. I gasped. “I think you were meant for me and I was meant for you and it’s probably time we stop playing house and make it official. Will you marry me?”

“Yeah,” I said, in shock. I took the box gently out of his hands, examining the ring, feeling that my life was headed down the path I had always wanted to go. I took the beautiful diamond ring out and placed it on my finger. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

He looked relieved as he stood up and I pulled him close so that I could kiss him.

“I love you,” I whispered as I held him close.

“I love you, too, Pammy,” he replied.

I was completely gleeful that entire night, calling all of my relatives right away to share the news. Nothing could bring me down from that high. Nothing but the look on Jim’s face when I told him.

--

You know, it’s been debated as to when Jim and I went on our first date. Our first date as a couple wasn’t really a date at all, more of an evening spent at Jim’s apartment, so technically our first actual date could be considered the next day when we went out for dinner. Some people like to comment on that time we were up on the roof and claim that was a date. Jim still insists it was. I still claim that it isn’t a date when the other person is engaged.

What I didn’t know until I saw the documentary, however, was that Jim considered our first lunch out together our first date. He doesn’t actually say that the date was with me in the documentary, only that it had been the worst first date he had ever been on. My heart broke a little when I watched that episode because I remember that lunch date pretty clearly. It was the Monday after Roy had asked me to marry him.

It’s probably no surprise to anyone when I say that Jim and I hit it off right from the start. The first week he was at Dunder-Mifflin, he spent more time coming up to my desk than he did selling paper. We talked and joked around constantly, had our lunches together, sat together in conference room meetings, we really were two peas in a pod.

And then there was that morning he asked me to have lunch with him. Jim admits that he was incredibly nervous when he walked up to reception, that he had been working up the courage all the previous week to ask me out. I don’t remember him being nervous at all, just his usual charming self. And I, of course, said I would go to lunch with him because I didn’t think it was anything more than two friends going out to eat. I seemed to be unaware of a lot of things at the time and too caught up in my own happiness to care.

We were at a booth at Cugino’s Restaurant. Michael must have done something outrageous again because I was talking up a storm about it. Jim was unusually quiet and gave only short answers and nods as replies. He seemed nervous, fidgeting around in his seat. His eyes kept wandering down to my left hand.

“Are you okay?” I asked after he hadn’t spoken for about ten minutes.

“Yeah, I-“ he tried to shrug it off but Jim has always worn his heart on his sleeve. “Are you, uh,” he pointed at my hand. “You weren’t wearing a ring last Friday.”

“Oh, this?” I blushed as I looked down at my ring. I grinned, I couldn’t help it. At the time, I thought getting engaged was the best thing to happen to me. It was then I realized that I had never said a word about Roy to Jim. “Oh, my boyfriend asked me to marry him last night.”

Jim’s face noticeably paled. He quickly went for his water to try and hide it. He forced a smile upon his face. “Wow, that’s…really great,” his voice trailed off, he couldn’t lift his eyes to mine. “I…didn’t even know you were seeing anyone,” he choked out.

Guilt was what I felt right then, as I watched his face fall, though I wasn’t entirely sure why I felt that way. I hadn’t mentioned Roy to Jim but we had just become friends and it had never come up. It wasn’t as though I purposely withheld the information. And, for some reason, I just felt like my work relationship with Jim needed to be separate from my home life with Roy. The lines were clearly drawn in my head, so when Jim looked at me like that, crushed to hear that news, I felt guilty.

I was vaguely aware of Jim’s crush, something in hindsight that I saw a little clearer. I was too wrapped up in my own happiness that I didn’t question the reason behind it. And while It was something that I wanted, even if I didn’t know it, Jim’s feelings were something I feared. I didn’t even think they were real because I might have made it up in my head. But Jim’s crush was very real and something I was unprepared to deal with, so any signs that Jim felt anything, including the glaringly obvious point that he probably thought that our lunch was in fact a real date, were pushed away in my head.

“Yeah, I am. His name is Roy…” I trailed off. Suddenly all of the happiness I had felt from the engagement came crashing down. At the time, I was a little annoyed with Jim. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t be happy and content for me so that I could continue my life just as I had planned it. But he wasn’t. He was hurt and shocked and possibly feeling more emotions that I was.

Jim swallowed hard before he spoke again. “Roy?’

I nodded slowly. “Yeah, Roy Anderson, he works in our warehouse…”

“Wait, that guy? He’s just—“

“He’s what?” I asked sharply.

I thought I saw anger flash across his face before he composed himself. “I mean, congratulations, Pam. That’s very exciting for you.” He forced a smile.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice faint. The guilt was immense but other than that, I didn’t know how to feel. I should have been happy; completely blind and oblivious to everything happy because of my engagement. But I wasn’t and I was confused to exactly why I felt bad, guilty, weird even. If anything, I felt defensive of my relationship with Roy. “We’ve been together a long time. I thought he was never going to ask, but he did and it’s great.” I sounded as if I was trying to convince myself as much as him. “It’s really great.”

I had unintentionally twisted the knife further into Jim’s heart. “That’s great…for both of you.”

We both remained quiet for a long time. I wasn’t sure how to explain the situation better or how to undo it, even though I wanted to put everything back the way it was. And I don’t think Jim could speak without letting out everything he felt. The tension that would build over the next three years was born in that moment.

Eventually, our food came and I made a loose comment about Dwight, which at least got us talking again. What really needed to be said remained unspoken and the charade of being only friends had started.

Jim was distant for a while after the lunch at Cugino’s. Still being on a high from getting engaged, I didn’t notice at first, but he stopped coming to my desk for small talk, stopped sitting next to me during meetings, generally avoided me altogether. Jim told me once that if there was ever a time he could have walked away, it was in those few weeks. Had he moved on to another job and gotten away from Dunder-Mifflin, our stories would be completely different now.

It wasn’t until a few weeks had passed that I began to realize how much I had been enjoying Jim’s company. I found myself alone at home one evening. Roy had gone out to play poker with some friends. It wasn’t often that I would have an evening alone but when I had one, I usually enjoyed it. I would often curl up with a book or work on my drawings, drink some tea, and enjoy that I had a moment to myself. I usually found myself looking forward to those quiet evenings but that night I was restless.

I had a half dozen bridal magazines to look through, but since planning the wedding had become somewhat stalled due to Roy’s lack of interest, I didn’t feel much like it. It was then that I wanted someone to talk to. Strangely enough, it wasn’t Roy that I missed; I was still glad that he was out for the night. I just wanted a friend. It occurred to me that I really didn’t have anyone to call. There were a handful of people I could try to call; my sister, a few friends from high school, some of the wives and girlfriends of the guys Roy hung out with but no one that I was close enough with that they would drop everything to come and hang out with me.

I found myself lonely, with no real way to overcome that.

I turned on the TV, flipping mindlessly through the channels. The Blair Witch Project was on one of the cable channels and it made me think of Jim and that first day he showed up. Suddenly, I found myself missing him. I couldn’t place why, we had only just met and it wasn’t like we were ever close, merely coworkers that had joked around some, but after thinking it through I realized he had been someone to talk to, someone I found myself wanting to know better. And it was then that it hit me how distant he had become.

I felt a rush of sadness sweep over me. I wasn’t sure if I had or hadn’t done anything wrong. I still wasn’t clear on Jim’s feelings were for me and I purposely avoided that question, knowing that one or the both of us might get hurt if there was anything more than a friendship there. There was a small part of me that worried if Jim had decided not to bother being friends with me now that he realized I was engaged. But I knew I still wanted him as a friend and beginning the next morning, I was determined to make sure we stayed that way.

It began as simple gestures. I smiled at him when he first came in, threw glances his way when Michael or Dwight did something outrageous, made it a point to small talk whenever I gave him a memo or a phone message. I also made it a point to eat lunch with him on the days that Roy didn’t come up from the warehouse and while we only small talked, never discussing anything about our personal lives at first, Jim would at least partake in the conversation. He still held himself back, and later I would figure out it was because he didn’t want to become too attached, but I slowly chipped away at the defensive walled he had placed between us.

--

I liked to believe that my persistence had brought Jim around. He claims that what gave him real hope was the day he officially met Roy.

It was the end of the day and Jim was standing at my desk, not really talking about anything, possibly just watching me play solitaire, which he did regularly. Roy entered the office and approached my desk. He didn’t even give Jim a second glance.

“C’mon, baby,” he said, leaning on the desk next to Jim. “You ready to go? The guys want to play a pick up game after work and I want to get home so I can change.”

“Roy,” I said with a bit of frustration. It wasn’t just that he came off as demanding, it was also the fact that he had completely forgotten we had plans. “We have an appointment with a minister about the church tonight,” I reminded him.

Roy scrunched his nose. “What? That’s tonight? What time is it at?”

I let out a sigh. “It’s at seven,” I replied.

“That’s plenty of time,” Roy insisted. “I’ll just play my game and meet you there.”

“Don’t you want to shower first?” I asked.

He looked at me blankly for a moment. “Why do I need to shower?”

I groaned and looked over at Jim, doing the best I could not to openly roll my eyes at Roy. If it had been Michael or Dwight saying that kind of statement we both would have joked about it. Since it was Roy, I felt embarrassed. Jim shifted uncomfortably, trying to remain quiet and out of it. “So you can look presentable tonight,” I answered.

“Pfft, whatever,” Roy replied. “Why aren’t you done yet? What are you doing that’s taking you so long, anyway?” Roy bent over the desk to see my computer screen, which had the solitaire game still up. He looked annoyed. “Card games, really? C’mon, let’s go.”

Jim, to my surprise, interjected. “Uh, she was, uh, just going to do a fax for me,” he said. There was no reason for him to lie, it wasn’t as if I was in trouble with Roy or anything, but I found it interesting that Jim had made up the situation more or less just to help bail me out. “It’s a big client and we have to get it out now or else we might lose the sale.”

Roy looked Jim up and down, as if really noticing him for the first time. Roy looked as though he might say something snarky but instead didn’t and brushed Jim off as nothing. “Yeah, whatever, just hurry up, okay? I’ll be waiting in the car.”

“Yeah, fine,” I muttered as watched Roy leave.

When I turned back to Jim, he was smirking. “So, that was your fiancé?” he asked.

“Yeah, Roy’s just—“ but I let the sentence die, not sure if I could place how I felt about Roy in a single sentence.

“So, uh, have you guys picked a date yet?” It was the first time he asked about the wedding. My engagement seemed to be one of those things that we never brought up.

I shook my head. “I’m not sure. It kinda depends on where we’re going to have it. I’d like it to be some time next fall but Roy hasn’t mentioned any dates. I don’t know…”

Jim put a hand up to his mouth, trying to hide how broad his grin had gotten. “Yeah, well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

I looked at him suspiciously. “Yeah, I suppose we will…”

--

There’s an old superstition or saying that my mother had told me that a couple should be engaged at least six months before they get married. The six months of Roy and my engagement came and went with us no closer to getting married than we were when he first asked me. I actually had most of it planned, what dress I was going to wear, what flowers I wanted, even a hall for the reception, but Roy had made no attempt to pick a date. The longer he stalled, the less I planned and soon I felt as if the ring around my finger was a just an empty promise.

On the other hand, Jim and I were slowly growing closer. Jim was up at my desk constantly, whenever he wasn’t supposed to be selling paper and even sometimes when he was. Most of the time it was just small talk but he would always ask my opinions on things, something that Roy never did. Jim made sure always to open the door for me when we first arrived at work or he would pull out a chair for me at lunch time. The small things were beginning to add up and I found myself looking forward to work every day.

I couldn’t tell you when I started considering Jim my best friend. A best friend is someone I considered to be the person to whom one would tell everything, and Jim fit that mold. At first it wasn’t intentional but the more Jim and I began to talk at work, the more I opened up to him about my life, about things I liked, things I didn’t like, problems I had with Roy or my parents, and we often commiserated about how bad Dunder-Mifflin was. He was the one person I could talk to about anything, but it would be a long time before I understood the significance of that.

I can, however, tell you the moment that I became aware that I had actual feelings for Jim. Jim was sitting in the kitchen when I walked in, going straight for the fridge for lunch. I noticed him watching me carefully as I pulled out my sandwich and yogurt. Without any hesitation, I joined him at the table.

“Hey,” I said as I pulled the lid off the yogurt.

“Hi, uh--” he began as I dipped the spoon into the container. “Wait,” he said so quickly that it startled me. “Uh, this might sound weird, and there's no reason for me to know this, but that mixed berry yogurt you're about to eat has expired.” He looked down at his own sandwich, as if embarrassed that he knew such a thing.

I sat there silent for a moment, stunned, not because knowing when the yogurt expired was a strange thing but because it occurred to me that he had taken the time to look out for my well being. He cared. That’s the big thing that hit me in that moment. Jim cared enough about me to make sure I wouldn’t be eating expired yogurt. Some may think it an odd thing to know, maybe even creepy. Jim certainly thinks it’s weird that I have the moment forever stored in my brain as when I knew I cared for him, but to me, someone who up until that point hadn’t gotten much attention of any kind, someone who felt like they didn’t have many people looking out for them, it meant the world.

My lips formed into a half smile. “Thank you,” I replied sweetly as I threw the yogurt into the trash. Neither of us said another word about it but I can’t begin to describe the impact that one gesture had on me.

It’s strange how such a small, subtle moment can change your entire perception of a person. When he looked back to me with those kind, green eyes of his, I felt it. It was somewhat like those butterflies I felt that day in the conference room when we brushed up against each other but this was stronger. More powerful. I was much more aware now that I cared for him. Cared for him deeply. Cared for him much more than two coworkers who happened to be friendly towards each other.

Jim was my best friend, that I had already known, but in that moment stirred something more. I couldn’t put it into words, nor did I dare explore the feelings, fearing what they might lead to, but I knew then that what Jim and I had was special. And there was a part of me that selfishly wanted him all to myself. I didn’t want anyone else to have the bond with him that I had.

--

As I grow older and have gotten more perspective about the situation, I have come to believe that falling out of love is a lot like falling in love. Falling in love is like a crescendo of feelings that slowly build until your heart is so full that it can no longer be ignored. Falling out of love is like the reverse, a slow deflation of those feelings until you no longer feel anything at all. What I didn’t seem to wrap my brain around, probably because I was too young to understand or too stubborn to accept, was the fact that during that time, before the documentary crew arrived, I was experiencing both. Because of that, lines became blurred, feelings for one became transferred to another, and the whole situation became so complicated that I often didn’t know or understand how I felt.

I really did my best to keep my feelings for Jim hidden not only from Jim and Roy but also from myself. But no matter how hard I tried, those feelings began to seep through into my actions. Prepared for it or not, things in my life were changing.

The loneliness I used to feel began to fade. I began to enjoy those nights to myself more, just knowing that the next day I would have Jim to talk to. The weekends often seemed long, though, and I often felt anxious to go back to work.

Every once in a while, I contemplated calling Jim. I could get his number easily enough, just by checking a client report or, hell, I could have even asked him. But I never did, not sure where the line was between appropriate and inappropriate. He never asked for mine and in that first year, we never did anything outside the office.

I often talked a lot about Jim when I was at home. Enough so that my mother and my sister began to take notice. Roy, however, didn’t seem to mind or even notice that anything was different. Jim was almost a blessing to him because then I would discuss all my issues with him and not bog Roy down with it.

It was almost as if I was split in two, Jim getting my emotional side, how I felt, who I was while Roy got my physical body. It really wasn’t fair to either of them or myself for that matter. But I had struck up such a nice balance, and I felt so happy for the time being, that I hid behind the charade.

--

My possessiveness over Jim began to grow stronger. Of course, I had no real claim over him and I kept telling myself that he was free to do as he wished but every once in a while my jealous side was stirred. It never really occurred to me that Jim had a life outside the office until the day I heard him talking on the phone to someone I didn’t know. It was a girl, I knew, because I transferred the call.

“Yeah, I had a great time last night,” I heard Jim say. I watched carefully, maybe too carefully, and tried to go back to doing my work but I couldn’t help but try to pay attention as he talked. “Yeah, that was fun…we should do it again some time…tonight…sure, I never have plans…” I wanted to see him look apprehensive, doubtful, dismissive but I saw none of those things. He was happy and laughing into the phone and I couldn’t help but feel a little irked that he was having a good time with someone else.

When he hung up the phone, he went back to work as if it were no big deal. My curiosity getting the best of me, I walked over to his desk with the pretense that Michael had sent out a new memo. After I gave it to him, I leaned against his desk.

He stared at me for half a second before giving me a half-smile. “What’s up?”

I gave a shrug as if I was trying to be casual. I’m not sure how well it came off. I figured I was being nonchalant about the whole thing but Jim later would burst my bubble and tell me that he was usually aware of when I got jealous. “So, um,” I played with the cuff of my sleeve. “Who was that on the phone?”

“Oh, uh, Amy?” he looked extremely uncomfortable and began to play with the folders on his desk. “Just a friend of my roommate’s. She’s…nice.”

“Ah,” I said, letting the conversation die into an uncomfortable silence. “So, you have a hot date tonight or something?”

He nodded slowly, trying very hard not to look at me. “Uh, yeah, something like that.”

“Well, try not to have too much fun,” I teased, though my over-cheeriness was obviously false.

He forced a laugh. “Yeah…I won’t.”

“Will the two of you please stop talking about your personal lives so I can concentrate on selling paper?” Dwight interjected harshly.

Jim and I exchanged looks. Normally, Dwight’s comments wouldn’t stop either of us from chatting but it looked as though Jim was done with the conversation so I headed back to my desk trying to shake off the uneasy feeling I had about he situation.

Jim didn’t speak about Amy again and two weeks later, when I asked him about it, he mentioned that they decided to stop seeing each other because she was into someone else. Although he didn’t look broken up over it at all, which I secretly delighted in, he didn’t discuss any details. In fact, after that, Jim was very low key about any women he dated and I ended up being pretty in the dark about his social life until Katy Moore arrived at the office. But I’m getting ahead of myself with that.

It’s also funny to me, looking back, that Roy used to blatantly hit on waitresses when we went out or comment on how nice a woman’s rack was right in front of me. Of course I was irritated but Roy’s observation of other women never made my stomach turn quite the same way as when Jim would merely mention that he had a date.

--

There were certain things I could explain away in those early years. I no longer felt lonely because Jim was my friend. I hadn’t had a lot of good friends in my life, so I felt grateful to have him. And, sure, I would feel possessive from time to time because Jim was my best friend. We had something special and I wanted to preserve that. But the one thing I couldn’t explain away with some logical lie was the sexual attraction that was beginning to build. I tried to bury it well, pretend very much that it didn’t exist but it was there from the beginning though I remained very much in denial of it.

It started with his eyes. I began to notice how beautiful they were, a light green with a little bit of gold shining in them when you looked in the right light. Then it was the smile. His charming, warm smile that was often contagious and made me melt, even though I tried hard to convince myself that it didn’t. When his hair began to grow out, it stuck out at odd angles and I often found myself wanting to pat it down but also wanting to run my fingers through it to see if it was soft as I imagined, but it took all my effort to refrain.

Michael instituted casual Fridays in the years before the documentary came. I looked forward to the summer months because Jim always came in wearing a T-shirt and jeans that fit his frame nicely. I always seemed to notice the tone of his arms, the definition of his chest and stomach, and occasionally, when I really couldn’t help myself, I would check out his butt.

Consciously, I would chide myself for doing such things and would shake my head to eradicate any more than just friendly thoughts. I often chalked it up to just appreciating the male form or having been with Roy for so long, it was nice to look at someone else. But subconsciously, I wanted Jim. I wanted Jim badly though while I was still with Roy, I never let myself think that.

At first, any of the feelings I had were completely harmless, just a quick floating through my brain. Eventually, when they were stronger, they began to infiltrate my relationship with Roy.

Roy and I had a decent albeit unadventurous sex life. When we were younger, we tried a variety of things but as we settled into our relationship, whenever Roy felt like doing it, we would and it usually consisted of me on my back while Roy pounded into me. Sometimes, I would drift off, a variety of celebrities would come into my head and I have to admit that sometimes that helped me get more pleasure out of it. But when Jim popped in there the first time, it freaked me out so much that I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on any other hot guy I could think of until Roy finished.

The second time it happened, it didn’t bother me as much and I shrugged it off, thinking that maybe my mind was taking any guy I knew and sticking them into head. I glossed over the fact that I never though about any other guys I knew during sex.

The third time I let myself indulge a little, letting myself picture Jim on top of me, in me instead of Roy. I felt more turned on than I ever had before and began to match Roy’s aggression. I not only came, which was something that didn’t always happen but I came before Roy. Roy was so enthused at the change that we did it every night that week, and each time, I let myself think of Jim.

I felt so guilty after that week that I promised myself I would never let myself think that way again. Interestingly enough, even though Roy and I were becoming more distant and the sex became far and few between, I made sure I was an active participant, making sure I could enjoy it so that I wouldn’t have to rely on fantasies

--

A lot of people ask how Jim could have held out as long as he did. Truth is, he could see me clearer than I saw myself, and as he often puts it, it was just a matter of waiting for me to come around. My one regret is that I made him wait for so long.

In an attempt to grow a friendship between the two men in my life, something that I should have been aware wouldn’t work any way you look at it and I’m still not sure why I thought it was a good idea, I invited Jim to our place on Saturday afternoon to watch college football.

That particular Saturday, Roy was gone in the morning to help his brother move. We often had Roy’s friends over and I never lifted a finger in attempt to clean the place but for my one friend, since I never had people over, I made sure the house was spotless. I made sure the house was spotless. To be fair, I was nervous about Jim coming over and cleaning gave me something to concentrate on.

I finished a half hour before Jim was to arrive. Roy still hadn’t come home and I called him a few times but received no answer and left a message for him to call me back. For reasons I didn’t understand at the time, I wasn’t all that concerned about Roy showing up on time.

Fifteen minutes before Jim was supposed to get there, I was in my bedroom, finishing getting ready. I made a conscious effort to look decent for that afternoon. I wasn’t wearing anything too fancy, just jeans and my favorite sweater, but for some reason I felt that I needed to look nice that afternoon. Funny how I had never felt inspired to iron my favorite blouse or straighten my hair when Roy’s brother came over. Roy had always liked my hair up, and since it was easy to do I never changed it, but that day, I let my hair flow over my shoulders.

There was a knock at the door pulling me out of my thoughts. I felt a wave of anxiousness sweep over me as I rushed to the door. Jim was there, early, much to my delight and looking as he did on casual Fridays, jeans, a gray hoodie but there was something different there as well. His hair was combed, though the effort was lost as his hair still stuck out at the ends and I could smell the fresh scent of his clothes, as if they had just been washed, along with a cologne I was sure he didn’t wear while at work. He gave me a smile, more like a half-smirk, when he looked at me and I felt myself growing warm.

“Hi,” I said, grinning wildly.

He didn’t speak right away, instead, he took a second to notice that I, too, looked different than normal then. His eyes seemed to linger on me a little longer than usual but then he shook his head and flashed me his friendly Jim smile.

“Hey,” he replied sounding a little nervous. When he came into the house, he rose his arms slightly, as if getting ready to hug me but then thought otherwise, and quickly put them behind his back. “I know I’m early but I brought beer.” He picked up the twelve pack of Grolsch’s that had been resting at his feet.

I smiled. “Come on in,” I said with a wave. I took the beer from him and closed the door once he was in. He took a moment to glance around, taking in my living room. Without another word, I headed towards the kitchen, Jim’s eyes wide, examining my home as we entered the kitchen. “Roy isn’t here yet,” I said apologetically as I placed the beer next to the vegetable tray in the fridge. Jim didn’t seem too put out by that statement. “Let me give him a call. You can go turn on the game if you’d like, the remote is on the coffee table.”

He was hesitant for a moment but when I fished my cell out of my pocket, he slowly wandered out into the living room.

Thankfully, Roy picked up the phone. “What?” he asked, sounding irritated.

“Where are you?” I hissed into the phone. “The game is about to start.”

Roy became immediately defensive. “I’m at the bar with the guys. The game has already started, where are you? I thought you were meeting us here?”

“Roy!” I snapped. “You are supposed to be here. Jim’s over today, remember? Why do you think I bought those bags of chips and dip?”

Upon hearing his name, Jim poked his head into the kitchen, a concerned look on his face. I rolled my eyes as if it were no big deal but I was visibly upset and couldn’t hide it so I turned away from him.

On the phone, Roy was trying to apologize. “Halpert’s there? That was this weekend? I’m so sorry, I completely forgot. I’ll get back at half time, okay?”

“Get back now,” I said sternly.

“Can’t it just wait until the end of the quarter?” he pleaded.

“No,” I said.

He was silent for a moment, I usually never put my foot down with him. “Fine but Darryl and Kenny are coming, too,” he said as if there would be no arguing on the matter.

“I don’t care,” I responded. “Just get here.”

“Fine,” he snapped back. “God, you don’t have to be so bitchy about it.”

“Well—I—“ My anger flared up again but Jim again popped his head into see if I was okay so I let it go. “I’ll see you soon, okay,” I said quickly. I hung up before Roy could respond. I took a deep breath to compose myself before joining Jim in the living room. “I’m sorry, Roy’s going to be a few minutes.” I explained to him about the mix-up.

“That’s fine,” Jim said with a shrug. I expected a question about why Roy was late but Jim didn’t seem put out over it and didn’t ask. Instead, was still walking around the living room, checking my place out. “So, someone loves Chris Tucker movies,” he commented, stopping at the shelf of DVDs.

I let out a laugh. “Yeah, those are Roy’s. He loves Chris Tucker. He insists we watch Rush Hour marathons at least once every six months.”

Jim grimaced. “Now, that’s a rare form of torture.”

“Don’t like Chris Tucker much?”

“Okay, so he’s not the worst,” Jim gave, though he clearly held a great distaste for the actor. “But Rush Hour? Really? If you’re going to go action, stick with Die Hard or as least Lethal Weapon. No, you know what? I take it back, watching Chris Tucker is like listening to nails on a chalk board.”

“I actually have to agree about Rush Hour,” I admitted. “But, you know, I did like The 5th Element.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

“C’mon, it was funny,” I said.

He looked at me seriously. “Didn’t Chris Tucker play some sort of weird game show host drag queen hybrid in that movie?”

I started to giggle. “Yes but that was the fun of it.”

He shook his head at me. “I don’t know if we can be friends anymore,” he joked turning away. I could tell he was trying hard not to smile.

“C’mon,” I said through my giggles. “You have to love The 5th Element.” I attempted to do my best crazy Chris Tucker impression but I failed miserably. Jim, however, thought it was hilarious and for a good five minutes, we went back and forth, quoting the movie. Jim’s impressions were twenty times better than mine but I made him laugh harder.

“You know, for someone who claims to hate that movie, you sure know it well,” I commented through my laughter.

“Well, my college roommate was obsessed with it back when it came out, so yeah…” He wiped the tears from his eyes he was laughing so hard. As our laughter died down, Jim’s eyes wandered down to the picture of Roy and I that rested on top of the bookcase that held our DVDs.

It was of the two of us at prom. Roy wasn’t a sentimental person, therefore I was the one who chose what pictures to put out. Jim picked it up, carefully studying the younger version of me in my seafoam green dress. My hair was in an up-do and I was wearing my mother’s pearl earrings and necklace. Roy was standing slightly behind me, in his tux, his arms partially around me, my corsaged hand over his. We were both smiling like teenagers do at those occasions.

“Prom,” I said simply.

“Yeah,” he responded quietly, the humor fading from his face. “I kinda got that. Your first date?”

I shook my head. I tried never to think of my awful first date with Roy. “No, we had been dating for a while at that point. But that night was…” My voice trailed off as I thought of prom. It had been a great night. I lost my virginity that night. “It was nice. Roy was really sweet and bought me flowers and danced with me. I don’t know, it was nice.” I couldn’t help but smile at the memory but kept my head low to avoid Jim’s gaze.

Jim, however, seemed to sense that more went on that night than I told him and immediately put down the picture as if it were diseased.

“What was your prom like?” I asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Oh, it sucked,” he replied automatically.

“How so?”

He didn’t seem like he wanted to tell the story but I would have nagged him about it and he would have told me eventually. “I went with this girl named Steph,” he started with a reluctant breath. “She, like, begged me to go with her. And she was cute, so I said I would. But ten minutes after we got there, she started acting all weird. I found out that she only asked me to make some other guy jealous. And it worked too, halfway through the dance, when I was headed out to the bathroom, I caught them making out.”

“Oh, Jim,” I said. I lifted my hand to place reassuringly on his arm but at the last second decided against it and played with my necklace instead.

“It’s fine,” he said waving it off. “I guess it wasn’t all bad. At least I got to dance with the girl I had really wanted to ask out. Sarah.”

My curiosity was piqued. “Why didn’t you ask her in the first place?”

He looked at me as if the answer was the most obvious thing. “She had a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” I whispered.

“Didn’t matter,” he continued with a shrug, though I got the feeling that there was more to that story then he let on. “I got over her pretty quickly my freshman year of college.”

That led to about a dozen other questions I wanted to ask, but I refrained, not sure if he really wanted to tell me about that part of his past. Instead, we settled into an uneasy silence.

“So…” I started to say, playing with the sleeve of my sweater. “Yeah, I don’t really miss high school at all.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Jim admitted. “I wouldn’t go back though.”

“I didn’t like it at all,” I said. “I was—“ an idea formed. “Hey, want to see what I was like in high school?”

Jim’s grin returned. “Absolutely.”

“I’ll be right back,” I ran into my bedroom and pulled out my senior yearbook. I returned to see Jim playing with a stuffed penguin that had been sitting next to my prom photo.

“What are you doing?” I asked, amused.

“I love penguins,” he said.

It was my turn to arch an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” he turned it in his hand before gently bopping me over the head with it. “They’re cute.” I began to giggle again. “Fine, whatever,” he said, throwing the stuffed animal back on top of the shelf.

I eventually pried it out of him, but Jim really does have a soft spot for penguins for no other reason than he thinks they’re cute. It’s never been caught on camera, but he does the most adorable penguin impression. I told Phyllis about it one year at Christmas and she bought him a stuffed penguin doll that he kept for years until the day that his daughter took it outside and played with it in the mud.

“No, no,” I said grabbing it. “I love penguins, too,” I assured him. “This is mine. Roy’s brother Kenny got it for me. Won it, actually, from one of those claw things you find at carnivals and fairs.”

“Wow, he mastered one of those things?” Jim asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, he’s great at those things,” I explained. “It was my birthday, um, two years ago. Roy’s family took me out to the carnival that night. His mom even bought me a flower necklace.” I wasn’t wearing the necklace but that didn’t stop me from nervously playing with the one I had on.

“Oh,” Jim’s face dropped. “So, you’re close with his family.”

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “I’ve just known them forever. They’re like family to me.”

“Ah,” Jim replied, though he made no other comment on the subject. “So, what’s that?” he asked pointing to the yearbook forgotten in my hands.

“Oh, right,’ I said flipping it open. “This is me in high school.” His eyes widened as I flipped to my senior photo. My hair was back in a barrette and I was wearing a navy turtleneck. I barely had a smile on my face.

“You look exactly the same,” he commented.

“I do not,” I argued. I saw a much younger person on the page.

“Yeah, you do,” he insisted.

I shook my head. I had thought that I’d come a long way from that girl. I didn’t realize that I had so much longer to go. “Whatever, I’m in here again.” I turned to the page with the activities and pointed to the art club photo where I was standing in the back. “I was in art club,” I explained. “It was fun but we never really hung out outside of school or anything. I guess you could barely call it a club.”

Jim took the yearbook from me so he could look at it. “Is this the only other photo of you in here?” he asked as he casually turned the pages. I nodded, not sure what the big deal was. “Oh, Pam, that’s kinda sad.”

“Why?” I asked, feeling a little defensive. “What? Were you in the yearbook a million times or something?”

“Well, I knew the yearbook editor, so that had its perks,” he replied. “But, yeah, I guess I did a lot in high school. I played basketball, I did the academic bowl, was on the newspaper, I even was in choir for a semester.”

“You can sing?” I asked, my eyes lighting up.

He laughed. “No, I joined because—“ he dropped the sentence catching himself.

I wanted to know more but at that moment, Roy chose to come home.

The door burst open and Roy came in looking pleased with himself. “I’m here,” he announced. He walked over to me, placing a loose arm around me, giving me a hard kiss on the lips. I pulled away a little, not liking the taste of beer and peanuts. “Hey, why isn’t the game on?” he asked immediately.

I didn’t respond, just pushed him away. “We were talking and waiting for you.”

“Pfft,” Roy said with a wave of his hand. He didn’t even acknowledge that Jim was there with me. “Talking’s for pussies. Let’s get this party started.”

Just as Roy spoke, in came Darryl, followed by his girlfriend Justine, Kenny, and his girlfriend Kara, My jaw dropped in disbelief. “What’s going on?” I demanded as everyone made themselves comfortable in my living room.

Roy gave me a dull look as he turned on the TV. “We’re watching the game.”

“I said you could invite Darryl, not an entire party,” I argued.

“What’s wrong?” He looked insulted that I would even question him on the matter.

“I only have a few bags of chips and some pretzels,” I explained. “We don’t have enough food for everyone.”

“So we get some BBQ Buffalo Wings,” Roy suggested as if it were no big deal. “Hey, Halpert, you like wings right?”

“Um, sure,” Jim responded though I could tell wings weren’t his first choice.

“What, who doesn’t like wings?” Roy looked at Jim dumbfounded. “God, Pam just get some food.”

I moved in closer to Roy so I didn’t have to shout the real predicament to the entire room. “We don’t have the money, Roy,” I said in a harsh whisper.

“I thought we’ve been saving up?” Roy shot back.

“Yeah, for a wedding,” I reminded him.

“Hey, I’ll help,” Jim interjected. “We’ll get some pizzas.”

“Pizza sounds good,” Roy agreed. “See, Halpert knows how to have a good time. Lighten up Pam, geez.”

I was about to scream but thought better of it and immediately went into the kitchen to find the number for the pizza place. Jim followed me and I told him that he didn’t have to help pay but he insisted. He then helped me get out what few snacks and drinks we had and bring them out to the living room. Roy didn’t lift a finger to help and I gave him an angry glare when we entered the living room but Roy was concentrating too much on the game.

When the food was settled, I took my place on the couch. Jim sat next to me, at the end of the couch and when Roy wasn’t screaming at the TV, he sat on the other side. The second quarter rolled on, with everyone in the room being as loud as they could be, with the exception of Jim, who remained quiet, eyes fixated on game, every once in a while taking a sip of his beer. It didn’t look like he was having any fun at all.

At half time, when the rowdiness calmed down a little, I nudged at Roy in an attempt to get him to interact to with Jim. At first, Roy wasn’t sure what I was getting at but when I tilted my head in Jim’s direction. It took Roy a second to understand what I was getting at but eventually he figured it out and at least attempted to talk to Jim because he knew it meant something to me.

“So, Jimmy,” Roy said. I cringed at Roy’s use of a nickname I knew Jim hated. “What do you think of Williams? Time to take him out?”

Jim gave a shrug as he took a swig of beer. “He’s okay,” Jim said. “He hasn’t been that bad.”

“That bad!” Roy said in disbelief. “The guy already coughed it up twice and damn near threw another pick in the end zone.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t and he got that fumble back,” Jim countered.

“Yeah, well it’s Williams. The guy is way to scrawny to even play quarterback and he keeps getting thrown around out there.” Roy said taking a sip of his beer. “I guess he should have gone with that basketball scholarship.”

Jim looked at him curiously. “What’s wrong with basketball?”

“C’mon,” Roy started but I gave him a sharp look and he dropped the argument. “So…” Roy asked after an awkward pause. “What kinda beer is that?”

“Oh,” Jim said. I noticed he was suddenly more into the conversation. “It’s Grolsch.”

Roy looked at him funny. “It’s what?”

“It’s Dutch,” I explained. “It’s actually pretty good, you should try some.” I offered him my bottle but Roy pushed it away.

“Nah, not really my thing,” Roy said.

Jim picked at the label on his own beer bottle. “So, I guess you prefer that Miller Lite, huh?” He asked with a slight raise of his eyebrow.

Roy scrunched his nose. “God, this stuff tastes like shit,” he admitted as he downed his can of beer. “But it’s the only thing Pam lets me drink lately cause she wants me on some diet for the wedding,” he said, as if I weren’t there.

Jim, however, looked amused but said nothing as he sat back thoughtfully. The third quarter began without another word from the three of us. The pizza arrived then and when I got up to pay, Jim gave a twenty without a word.

Not much happened initially when the game started up again. The ball possession went back and forth between the two teams with little incident, making the room rather quiet as we watched. About five minutes into the quarter, Jim unzipped his hoodie and took it off, revealing a light green t-shirt that matched his eyes.

“It’s a little hot in here,” he said coolly as he placed the hoodie, along with his hands, behind his head, leaned back into the couch, and stretched his long legs out in front of him. I nodded slowly, not really agreeing, just acknowledging that he had spoken. I was trying hard not to notice the definition of muscle in his now bare arms or the sleekness of his body and how it kept…going.

I turned my attention back to the TV, trying hard to watch the little men throw the football around, but since Jim was in my peripheral vision when looking at the TV, it was hard not to occasionally glance at him. But football had never been able to keep my attention even when I wasn’t fully aware that I was sitting in between my fiancé and my best friend.

Jim shifted position slightly and when he did so, a bit of his shirt raised, exposing some skin. I tried not to look but there was something about that tiny patch of skin that began to mesmerize me and before I knew it, I was staring.

“Pam?” Jim’s voice. Thankfully not Roy’s.

I jumped, startled. My eyes flew up to his and I saw that he was amused. “What? Yes? What?”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m—I was just…thinking about something,” I stammered. I felt my cheeks flush; the room suddenly felt very warm. Thank god Roy was still invested in the game.

I saw a smile tug at Jim’s lips but he didn’t call me out. “I’m gonna get another beer, do you want one?”

“No,” I said at first, grabbing my empty beer bottle and staring intently at it. He made a motion to get up. “No, wait, yes, I do. I would like another one please.”

He smirked. “Okay,” he said as he left the room.

My eyes were on him and not the TV as he left. As I caught myself staring again, I shook my head, trying to focus anything else. The room, however, still felt very hot. I tapped Roy’s arm.

“Hey, can you open the window for me?” I asked him.

He gave me an odd look. “Why?”

“Because it’s hot in here, please?” I almost begged.

With a grunt, he obliged and reached behind him to slide the window open. I curled up next to him, placing my legs under me, though as soon as I was against him, I was overwhelmed with the scent of beer and sweat. “Ugh, did you take a shower any time today?” I couldn’t help but comment.

“Yeah, this morning,” Roy replied, confused. He placed his arm around me, though that only made the stench worse.

“I think you need another one.”

Jim came back, two beers in hand and gave me one before sitting down again.

Roy was still a little miffed at my comment. “If you’re so hot, why are you snuggling up to me?” he asked.

“I—I uh,” I blushed again when I saw Jim’s grin. “I just wanted to be close to you,” I gave.

The smile on Jim’s face faded as he turned his attention back to the TV.

I was trying hard not to rest my feet against Jim’s thigh. There wasn’t a lot of room and they way I was scrunched up next to Roy made placing my feet on the ground very uncomfortable. I kept one hand around my leg to keep it from slipping, but occasionally it did. When it did, Jim would move his leg slightly and I would shift my foot but after a while, we’d be touching again.

After the fourth or fifth time, Jim spoke up. “You’re not bothering me,” he said, softly enough so that Roy didn’t notice.

I nodded in reply and let my foot relax against his thigh. He gently rested his hand on my foot, giving it a reassuring rub to let me know I was okay, but he lingered long enough to graze my toes with his thumb. I began to feel my heart began to race, my breath quicken and to compensate, I snuggled closer to Roy.

At the beginning of the fourth quarter, Roy got up to stretch and grab some more food, causing me to go back to a normal sitting position. I crossed my legs and hunched over, hugging my knees, so that no part of me was near Jim. When Roy returned, he slammed the window shut.

“It’s freaking cold in here,” he complained.

I, however, was still hot and when he sat down again, I almost felt suffocated. For most of the fourth quarter, I remained in that hunched position, my back beginning to ache, as I did everything I could to keep my attention on the TV.

The fourth quarter wound down with little incident and it was no surprise when Penn State beat Minnesota but Roy, having consumed almost a half dozen beers, couldn’t resist kissing me. Not just a small peck but a slobbery kiss that lasted a little longer than it should have for having company. Roy wasn’t the only one worked up. Darryl and Kenny were getting close to their girlfriends, too, snuggling up and hugging them.

“Good game, huh Halpert?” Roy said, as he kept his arm firmly around me.

“Uh, yeah,” Jim could hardly speak. He looked as though he were going to be ill. I immediately felt guilty that he was the odd man out and I pulled away from Roy. Jim, however, was already moving to get up. “I should go,” he said. He wouldn’t look me in the eye.

“Are you sure?” I asked, standing up with him. Roy’s attention was already turned towards Darryl and the post game show. He didn’t even notice that Jim was preparing to leave.

“Yeah, I can’t stay,” Jim said as he put his hoodie back on. “I’ve got this…thing with my brother tomorrow. And I have to get up early…”

“Oh,” I frowned. “Um, okay.” I wasn’t sure what to say as I walked with him up to the door. “I had a nice time,” I told him.

“Yeah,” his responded, his voice barely a whisper. “Me, too.” He smiled but it seemed forced. “But, I’ll see you Monday, right.”

“Definitely,” I grinned as I opened the door for him.

He lingered in the doorway a moment, almost as if he was hesitant to go, but with one last nod of his head, he left. I shut door behind him, wondering a little to myself what had caused his good mood from when he arrived to disappear.

When I reentered the living room, Roy, Darryl, and Kenny were in a deep discussion about the game and Darryl and Kenny’s girlfriends were discussing the fashion of some reality star. None of them seemed to noticed that Jim had left nor even that I was back. It was a weird feeling, but I felt lonely being in a room full of people.

I began to clean up, taking empty cups and plates back to the kitchen. When I went for the empty beer bottles that Jim had finished, I noticed that each of the labels were slightly torn in the same corner. It amused me that I had discovered this habit though in noticing it, I began to feel a little sad that I had to wait until Monday before talking to him again. I stared at the empty end of the couch where had sat and wished that he was still there.

The summer of ‘04 was a hot one. The air conditioner in the office was broken, making it sweltering, humid and incredibly uncomfortable. The monotony of work combined with the heat made us all miserable. The days slipped by slowly, each of us watching the clock, waiting for the day to end so we could all go someplace much cooler.

Jim, however, seemed to be having a harder time than the rest of us. One particular afternoon, I looked up from my solitaire game to see him not working but staring intently at Dwight. His lips were pursed, his body was tense and he looked as though he were about to snap. Wondering what Dwight was up to, I grabbed whatever excuse I could find, (it ended up being an old price sheet), and headed to Jim’s desk.

Dwight had a fan. A very large, black square floor fan that rose higher than the desks that was turned toward himself and Jim. He had had it for about a month, and so I’d make it a point to visit Jim’s desk a dozen times a day to cool down. I had a small desk fan myself but it barely pushed the muggy air around. Jim, however, hated the fan. Not only was it extremely loud, it blew anything loose on the desks around. I could tell that Jim was keeping his arms firmly on some loose sheets of paper so they would not blow away.

“Hey,” I said, louder than normal since the fan drowned out my normal speaking voice.

Jim didn’t notice I was there until I spoke. He shook his head as if coming out of a trance. “Oh, hey,” he said with a half-smile.

“Price sheet,” I said handing him the paper I was holding.

“Yay,” Jim responded in a monotone voice. He didn’t bother looking at it, since he knew it was nothing important, and placed it under his arm to join the stack of other neglected work papers. His eyes turned back to Dwight, who happened to be nearly yelling into the phone to compensate for the fan.

“Yes, of course it would be a pleasure to do business with you,” Dwight was saying into the fan. “I’ll be happy to get them out to you as soon as possible. If you’d like, we could just meet at my farm…”

“Is he talking about paper?” I asked.

Jim shook his head. “Beets,” he replied. The annoyance crept on his face again. “He’s been talking about beets for the last three hours.”

“Thank you,” Dwight concluded in his most businesslike voice. “A pleasure doing business with you, too.” He hung up the phone and proceeded to continue with his work, not noticing that the two of us were staring at him.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be doing personal stuff on company time,” Jim said after a moment. He gave Dwight a smug look, loving that he could needle Dwight for something he often got on Jim’s back about.

“You’re one to talk,” Dwight shot back. “It amazes me that you even work here with amount of time you waste every day doing frivolous things.”

Jim didn’t have a come back for that, only let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head.

“You know, Dwight, maybe you should be more conscientious of those around you,” I pointed out.

“And maybe you should learn how to work your email so you aren’t coming up to Jim’s desk every five seconds with a new memo,” Dwight said with a smirk. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe I do not want to hear about your boring lives?”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I huffed, heading back to my desk.

Not even an hour later, Jim was at my desk looking miserable. “I don’t get it,” he complained. “If he has such a successful beet farm, why does he need to work here?”

“Maybe you can convince him to focus only on his farm,” I suggested, giving him a half-smile.

“He’s never going to leave this place,” Jim rubbed his face in frustration. “Maybe I should make his life just as miserable as he makes mine. I should take away that damn fan.”

“No, please don’t,” I said quickly, causing him to look at me funny. “No, I agree, he’s super annoying but the fan is the only thing that is moving the air in here. Why don’t you just…unplug his phone so he can’t do any more of his farming stuff.”

“Or I could steal it all together,” Jim said, growing excited. I could see the wheels turning in his head. “Or I could…do we still have a ton of rubber bands in the back?”

I looked at him curiously. “Yeah, why?”

“You’ll see,” he grinned. “Just gotta wait until he goes on his sales call this afternoon.”

Jim waited until Dwight had left for his sales call to head back to the stock room, returning a few minutes later with a pound bag of rubber bands. I watched, amused, as he began to place the rubber bands around the phone. Every once in a while, Jim would look up at me grinning proudly over his work.

At first, I was slightly worried that someone might say something to him, but no one seemed to notice or care that Dwight’s phone was being completely covered in rubber bands. Oscar stopped by Jim’s desk at one point and lectured him on the misuse of company supplies but ultimately was only annoyed because he has spent a good fifteen minutes looking for a rubber band and told Jim it wasn’t worth mentioning to anyone.

While Jim was working on his prank, Michael came out of is office practically giddy over the piece of paper in his hand. “Pam, Pam,” he came bouncing up to my desk. “Check this out.”

I read the headline of the internet article he had printed out. “Office Documentary makes an impact in the UK.”

To this day, I don’t know what Michael had been searching to have stumbled across that article. I do, though, consider that moment as one of those times in your life when you know from that moment everything will be different.

“Why are you excited about this?” I asked, not even skimming the article.

“Don’t you see what it is?” he asked. I shook my head. “These people in England made this documentary about an office just like ours and now they’re all famous.”

I almost asked his point but thought better of it. “That’s nice Michael.”

“But don’t you see the best part?” Michael asked. Again, I shook my head. “There are American producers who want to do the same thing here. We could be famous, Pam! Famous.”

My jaw dropped slightly. I was unable to find words as I figured out that he wanted our office to be like the one in England. “Michael, I don’t-“ I began. I wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t even bother, that out of the millions of office they’d probably have to pick from, he’d never be chosen. But he seemed so eager in that moment, I couldn’t just dash his dreams. “You know what, Michael. If you really feel that you want to do this then go ahead. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“Bah, don’t be such a downer, Pam,” Michael said with a wave of his hand. “We’re a shoe in.”

I refrained from arguing. “Sure,” I gave simply.

“This could be my step into show biz,” he said with a giggle. “I’ve got to go tell my mom.”

After Michael left, I headed straight to Jim’s desk. He was putting the final rubber bands around Dwight’s phone.

“You’re never going to believe what Michael is up to,” I said with a giddy grin. I placed down the article in front of him before proceeding to tell him everything that Michael had told me. “He really thinks these people would want to come here,” I finished.

Jim stopped with the phone long enough to take a look at the article, then gazed around the room. He saw what I did, everyone working quietly, nothing of any interest happening, just like every other day. It never occurred to us that we might be the interesting ones.

“Yeah, he’ll never win it,” Jim said with a shrug. “Though we should definitely get a copy of that audition tape before he sends it out. You know what ever is on it is bound to be entertaining.” He smiled.

“Oh, we definitely should,” I agreed.

Jim placed the final rubber bands around the phone. “There, finished,” he said proudly.

I giggled at the sight of the completely covered phone. “That is amazing.”

Jim was at my desk when Dwight returned from his sales call. “Call him when he gets to his desk,” Jim whispered to me excitedly.

I waited until Dwight placed his coat on the rack and made his way to his desk. Trying to make it casual, I picked up the receiver and slowly dialed Dwight’s extension. Dwight’s phone rang and he hurriedly went to pick it up. Jim turned to watch, grinning wildly in anticipation.

“Alright, who did this?” Dwight asked, his face contorting in frustration as he held up the still ringing phone. No one said a word. Barely anyone turned around to acknowledge him. Jim held a hand to his mouth to keep from laughing. I had a hard time myself keeping it together as we watched Dwight throw accusing glances at everyone. “While I’m sure someone thought this was very funny, the joke is really on you.”

With that, Dwight whipped out a Swiss army knife from his pants and flipped it open. Jim’s face began to fall as Dwight, in a matter of seconds, cut through Jim’s hours of work.

“If the perpetrator does not make themselves known, there will be an investigation,” Dwight announced to everyone’s displeasure.

Jim turned back to me, his head hung low. “Well, that was only gratifying for about two seconds.”

“That’s what she said,” I laughed. I felt bad for him but I couldn’t help myself.

“Really?” he tilted his head.

“I’m sorry, it’s the heat.”

I had worked at Dunder-Mifflin for too long.

---

It was a few months later, when summer had slipped into fall, that Jim first died of boredom. I had been working on a drawing up at my desk when I looked up and watched him for a moment. He was busy typing away at his computer, but he must have noticed me out of the corner of his eye; suddenly his head went down to the desk. I was a little confused until Jim spoke in almost a moaning tone.

“I have officially died of boredom,” he announced, not taking his head off the desk.

I let out a laugh. Dwight, however, was not amused. “Oh please. You can’t actually die of boredom.”

Jim picked his head up. “Am I actually dead, Dwight?”

I could see Dwight thinking of some retort. Jim rolled his eyes and got up before Dwight could respond.

“Alright, you have to revive me,” he said, leaning against my desk, taking a few jellybeans as he did so.

“Oh, I have to revive you,” I laughed.

“Yup, it’s the only cure,” he insisted.

I thought for a moment, trying to think of something at all interesting that we could be doing. “We could try to prank Dwight again.”

Jim tilted his head. “C’mon. We tried that once and it didn’t work that well.”

We both turned our heads towards Dwight, who had his bare foot up on his desk and was busy clipping his toenails, making sure they landed on Jim’s desk.

Jim grimaced. “Did you have something in mind?”

I thought about it for a second. “Oh, you know what? I have some clear nail polish in my purse. Why don’t we put some on the end of all his pens and then he’ll go crazy when he tries to use them.”

Jim looked at me with wide eyes. “Does that really work?”

“Well, some girls in my art class pulled it on …a jock …when I was in high school,” I explained. “It ticked him off pretty badly cause nothing he used would work.”

“Roy?” Jim responded automatically, giving a smirk as he popped a jellybean in his mouth.

“Who wasn’t relevant,” I said, slightly defensively.

“Okay, so now all we have to do is get him away from his desk,” Jim said. “And you know it can’t be me.”

“I’ve got it covered,” I assured him, getting up out of my chair and coming around the desk. I went straight for the unsuspecting Dwight. “Hey, Dwight,” I said casually. “Michael just sent me the most interesting memo. He said that if you use bear manure on your crops it’ll help the beets grow.”

Dwight hurriedly brought his foot down and pushes his glasses up his nose. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Everyone knows that—“

“Maybe you should tell him and not me,” I interrupted. “And maybe you should let him know what kinds of manure would work well on crops.”

Dwight got up in a huff and stormed into Michael’s office, where he proceeded, very loudly, to tell his views on manure to Michael. Meanwhile, Jim and I scurried to Dwight’s desk and began searching for all his pens. When we figured we had found them all, we brought them to my desk, where I began to apply the nail polish. We had gotten half way through when the yelling and arguing died down and only silence came from Michael’s office.

“What do you think is going on in there?” I asked as I finished up one of the tips.

“I have no idea,” Jim replied. He took the pen I had just finished an placed it inside Dwight’s desk, the same as he had been doing each time one was finished, all the while keeping one eye on Michael’s office. “There was movement earlier, but now they’re huddled around the computer, completely invested in something.”

“Maybe Dwight is making Michael watch some kind of weird, farm animal porn or something,” I suggested.

“Beesly, wow,” Jim said astonished. “I was going to suggest an email scam of some sort but—“

I shrugged innocently. “It sounds like something Dwight would make Michael watch.”

A few minutes later, Michael and Dwight both came from Michael’s office. Michael looked ecstatic. “Attention everyone, I have an announcement,” Michael called out to the entire office.

“Michael has an announcement,” Dwight echoed.

Michael waved at him to be quiet. “I’m happy to announce that Dunder-Mifflin has been chosen as a finalist for the American Workplace Documentary.”

Everyone stared at Michael blankly, none of us really understanding.

Michael continued to beam. “I just got my acceptance email.”

Kelly was the first to speak. “Wait, a documentary? Like they’re going to film us?”

“Yes,” Michael replied excitedly.

Oscar was skeptical. “Michael, are you sure this isn’t a hoax or something?”

A round of concern sounded throughout the office.

“Stop it, stop it,” Michael insisted. “We are all going to be on TV, just you wait.”

“What the hell was on that tape?” I whispered to Jim. Jim and I had known he had made the tape and had tried in vain to get our hands on it. To this day, I don’t know what was on it and for some reason, it was one point Michael was coy about. The filmmakers claim to have lost the footage and it was never placed on the DVD.

“Maybe it was farm animal porn,” Jim joked.

I bit my lip to stifle my laughter.

Michael continued to explain the situation. “They’ll be coming in a few days to meet with us so I expect all of you to be on your best behavior.”

“Best behavior, people,” Dwight repeated with a clap of his hands.

“There’s just no way,” Jim said to me in disbelief. “I mean there’s no way they could choose this place.”

“I can’t believe it, they may actually film here,” Kelly said growing excited. “We’re all going to be famous.”

“Oh, please,” Angela scoffed. “Who would ever want to film at a place where nothing ever happens? Or with such boring people…like Kevin.”

“Hey…” Kevin said offended. “I’m an interesting person.”

“We are all interesting people,” Michael agreed. “And Scranton is a wonderful place. Who wouldn’t want to work here? Who wouldn’t want to film the people who work here? We are a family and that family should be represented on national TV. Like the Sopranos.”

Jim and I exchanged amused looks.

Stanley spoke up. “This isn’t a family, we just work here. We’re just the same as everyone else.”

Michael became agitated at his comment. “Yes we are, god! You don’t get it. Just—we are a family—we—fine, you’ll see. Once this airs, you’ll all see.”

“Michael, we haven’t even been chosen yet,” Phyllis reminded him. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

He waved his hand at her. “Gah! You don’t get it. None of you get it.” With that, sulked back into his office to pout for the rest of the day.

Dwight returned to his desk, immediately going back to work. Jim turned to me and I could see the anxiousness in his eyes, even if he tried not to give himself away. However, our plan wasn’t working as well as we had hoped. Dwight began to use the personal pen that he kept in his pocket. Every once in a while, Jim would shoot me a disappointed look. Finally, I got up from my seat and came over.

“Hey, Dwight, can I borrow your pen?” I asked.

A smile started to form on Jim’s lips.

“No,” Dwight said shortly, his head remaining down, focusing on the document he was filling out. “Why don’t you just borrow one of Jim’s? You’re over here enough.”

“Oh, well, I only have one pen,” Jim deadpanned.

Dwight finally looked up. “You do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not—“

I took the pen right out of Dwight’s hands and began to mark the blank sheet of paper I was holding. “Thank you,” I said as I headed back to my desk.

“You can’t do that,” Dwight called across the room. “Give me back my pen.”

I pretend to ignore him.

“Why don’t you be nice and let her use it?” Jim asked.

“Fine,” Dwight scoffed. He pulled a new pen from his drawer. “But I’m going to write Pam up for petty thievery.” He tried using the new pen but it wouldn’t work. “What the hell?” he demanded. He grabbed a new one and it didn’t work either. After four or five, he began to grow incredibly irritated.

I glanced up, watching the scene unfold. “What’s wrong, Dwight?” Jim asked casually.

“This damn pen,” Dwight said. He grabbed a new one, it didn’t work either. Frustrated, he threw it on his desk and tried a new one. “What the—What is wrong with my pens?”

“Oh, looks like you invested in some bad pens,” Jim replied. I placed a hand over my mouth so not to laugh.

“I didn’t—I—these weren’t---“ Dwight stuttered.

“Really, Dwight,” Jim goaded. “Are you sure it isn’t just user error?”

“What do you know?” Dwight accused. “You know something, don’t you?”

“Me?” Jim asked coolly. “I didn’t do a thing.”

“Yes, you did, I know you did,” Dwight continued as he pounded his fists on his desk. When Jim couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore, Dwight lost it. “I—Damn it, Jim,” Dwight shot out of his chair. “Michael!” He screamed as he ran into Michael’s office.

Jim turned towards me, a large grin plastered on his face.

“Well, that was successful,” I said as he got up and joined me at my desk. “I think I’m going to keep his pen as a souvenir.”

“I think we should go bigger next time,” Jim said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Next time?”

Jim came around the desk and we began to look up pranks on the internet. After about ten minutes, Jim stopped my scrolling.

“What about that one?” he asked, pointing to the screen.

I gave him a doubtful look over my shoulder. “I don’t know, it looks funny, but I’m not sure it really works.”

Jim nodded assuredly. “Oh, I think it just might…”

--

A few days later, Jim and I arrived at the office early to put our new prank into action. Jim had stolen Dwight’s stapler and after a few failed attempts, was able to encase it entirely in green Jell-O. When I met him twenty minutes before work, I nearly died laughing when I saw how it had turned out. We hurried in and placed it on Dwight’s desk, covering it with a towel, then began to get ready for work, both of us anxious to see Dwight’s reaction. Dwight, however, was late that day and as a few hours passed, we both began to worry that maybe he wouldn’t show up at all, though neither of us had heard from him.

At a quarter to eleven, Michael approached my desk.

“Hey, have you seen Dwight?” I asked.

“What, Dwight’s not here?” Michael said looking around. “Oh, whatever. Um, Pam, I just got some unfortunate news. Apparently, Tom from accounting is no longer working for us so we have to put the word out that we’re hiring—“

“Why, what happened?” I cut in. “Did he quit?”

“No,” Michael responded slowly. I could tell he was uncomfortable by the way he was avoiding my eyes. “No, uh—he seems to have shot himself…in the head.”

“Oh my god,” I gasped, covering my hands over my mouth.

“Yeah, uh,” Michael was at a loss for words. “You know, just put the word out that we’re hiring. Make sure you mention that we’re looking for a young, hot person, doesn’t have to be male but preferably a young me that I could mentor.”

I nodded, still a little dazed from the news.

Michael began to continue on about the criteria for the new hire when the door opened. I figured it would be Dwight, but instead, two middle aged gentleman, who I had never met before, both dressed in grey suits, entered the office.

“Hi, we’re looking for Michael Scott,” the first one said.

“Oh, I’m Michael Sc—“ He barely got the words out when Dwight came raging in behind the men.

“Hey, Dwight, we’re ya been?” Jim asked as Dwight huffed over to his desk.

“This has been the worst morning ever,” Dwight said rather loudly. All of us, including the two men, stared at Dwight as he ranted on. “First, Mose gets himself stuck in the tractor and that took forever to work out then the chickens were on the loose. I think we have a fox around. And then some jackass steals my parking spot and---“ Dwight stared down at his desk. “What is this?”

“I don’t know,” Jim said. “There when I got here.”

Dwight unceremoniously unveiled the stapler in Jell-O. He stared at it for a second, as if trying to figure out what it was. When he finally did, he was fuming. “Jim!” he screamed.

“What?” Jim replied casually.

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me,” Dwight said in a menacing voice. “I know it was you.”

“What was me?” Jim asked.

“Why did you take my stapler?” he accused. “Why?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jim responded.

The two men, who up until this point had silent and steadily watching the little show, began to clap. Smiles broke out on their faces and then they began to laugh.

“That was excellent,” the first one said. I looked dumbfounded at them. The rest of the office did, too.

“Bravo,” the second added. “What an excellent show.”

“Uh, yeah,” Michael agreed, even though he had no idea what he was agreeing with. “It was all planned. All of it.” He looked at me confused and I shrugged my shoulders.

“Thank you, Mr. Scott for that,” the first one said. He held out his hand and Michael shook it hesitantly. “We’re the producers of the American Workplace Documentary and thank you for entertaining us upon our arrival but I assure you, what we really want to see how your office functions just in the everyday setting.”

“Oh, well,” Michael said, his eyes growing wide when he realized who was there. “It’s always a production here.”

“I’ll bet it is,” the producer remarked. “Let’s talk in your office.”

As the producers went into Michael’s office, Jim and I exchanged stunned looks.