It’s May 19th, over a week since I made the biggest mistake of my life.

The mistake wasn’t breaking up with Roy.  Nor was it moving out of that apartment.  Nor was finding a new place (even though I had to rely on my family to do so, which I hate).  I don’t regret any of those at all.

The mistake was letting Jim Halpert walk away.

When I got home (thanks again, Angela), I saw Roy, on the couch, in front of the TV, beer in hand.  I hesitated to tell him the truth because, well, what do I say?  How does one even address this?  “Sorry I kissed my best friend behind your back?”  I know Roy, I know how he’ll react.  And that beer bottle will turn things from bad to worse.

But then I thought about what Jim asked, “Are you really gonna marry him?”  Am I?  Why?  What’s the point?  I’m clearly not happy with him.  To be honest, some of it isn’t even on Roy (though most of it is).  We’re not who we were nine years ago, we’ve matured into completely different people.  I’ve fallen for Jim, and every time I convince myself I haven’t, I fail.  He understands me better than I understand myself sometimes, and I still didn’t understand why I said no other than “I’m with Roy.”

I was suddenly shaken by the fact that I was considering splitting up my nine–year relationship after everything we’ve been through…
No.
I can’t anymore.
I’m ending this.
Tonight.

I sat down next to him and told him the truth: Jim’s confession, the kiss, all of it.nbsp; I made sure to emphasize he initiated both.  He took it… surprisingly well, all things considered.  “Jim came onto you?  God, what a creep.  Damn, I thought he was cool.”

“Still, I wanted to come clean and apologize.  I just… I was thrown off guard.”  I really was.

“I mean, it’s not like you kissed him back, right?”  I remained silent.  Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t bring myself to lie anymore.  “Right?”  Still nothing.  His face falls.  “Did… Did you just… cheat on me with Halpert?”

I slowly nod, trying not to break down.

“Pammy, you can’t be serious.”  It’s one thing to see him angry, it’s something else entirely to see him upset.  It broke my heart, and it’s just now dawning on me that that’s one of the reasons I stayed as long as I did.

All I could bring myself to say is a quiet “I… I’m so sorry, Roy.”

“So what, the wedding’s off now?” he asked, the heartbreak evident in his aggression.

I wanted to burst into tears.  With a small, even quieter “I guess so.”

I called it off.  I actually called the wedding off.

He scoffed, “I can’t fucking believe this.”  He was getting more and more pissed as he stood up.  “Where the hell is this coming from?!”

“Roy, I’m sorry, I—”

“Oh no, Pam, I’M sorry!  Guess I’m not good enough for you!”  I can’t help but feel sorry for the man.  Wouldn’t I react the same way?

And here come the tears, “No, Roy, that’s not what this is about!  It’s just, I…” oh, screw it, “I’ve fallen in love with him.”  He’s silent as he looks to his left away from me, an indication of the calm before the storm.  “Again, I can’t apologize enough, because I know that’s not fair to you, especially after everything we’ve been through, a-and I couldn’t bring myself to break up with you because—”

“Did you fuck him?”  The question was so pointedly vitriolic it caught me off guard.

I was terrified, “Roy, I promise you, we didn’t do anything else.  Nothing happened before tonight.”

“As if that’s supposed to make me feel better?!”

“Roy, I’m not excusing what we did—”

“It doesn’t FUCKING matter what you did, Pam!!”  He chucks his beer bottle across the room in time with the cuss and it explodes.  Well there went all my sympathy.  He’s a goddamn adult, yet he was still acting like he did a decade ago.

I stood up in a panic, “You’re gonna wake up the whole neighborhood!”

“Well, put that on the list of why I’m a fucking jackass!”  He walked to the bedroom to grab his keys, and I quickly followed.  “Where does he live?”

“What?”

“You’ve been to his place, where does he live?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

“Why?  You wanna save your new boy toy’s ass?”  Yup, he’s drunk all right.  “Oh, don’t worry Pammy, all I’m gonna do is tell him how happy I am that I kept you warm for him!”

I was in such a panic I ignored the cutting insult, “I’m trying to prevent you from doing something we both know you’ll regret!”

“You wanna know what I regret, Pam?  The past nine years of my life!”

…And that’s the straw.

I didn’t care whether or not he said this in the heat of the moment, Roy was vocalizing the same thought I had after Jim walked away, and I let him know, all sympathy replaced with annoyance, disdain, and fury.

“So do I.”

He stopped and laughed bitterly.  “Wow.  Glad to know I was being strung along all this time.”

This ignited a fire in me that I never thought I had.  “You were strung along?”

“Yeah!”

I didn’t have the energy or patience at that moment to explain the ludicrousness of that statement to him.  “Move,” I shoved past him and grabbed a suitcase from the closet.

“Christ alive,” he rolled his eyes.  “You’re not seriously shacking up with the guy?”

“Nope,” I answered shortly, placing the bag on our bed, “Staying with Izzy.  Then apartment hunting.”

He scoffs, “Fine.  Let’s just forget it.  You’re probably just drunk.  Let me know when this is all out of your system,” he says, about to walk out of the bedroom.

It was my turn to roll my eyes as I unzipped the suitcase.  “Of course, you think I’m drunk.  The wedding’s off, remember?”

He turns back around, “You were serious about that?”

“Yes, Roy.  Yes, I was,” I snidely commented as I walked to grab some clothes.

“Pam, you’re being ridiculous.”  As if the camel’s back wasn’t broken enough.

“You wanna know what’s ridiculous, Roy?  A man who throws bottles when he’s angry like he doesn’t have any self-control.  Ridiculous is a man who thinks sex counts as a Valentine’s Day present.  Ridiculous is a man ogling at other women when their girlfriend — oh, excuse me, fiancé — is right fucking there.”

“Oh, don’t you DARE turn this around on me!  You’re the one who flirted with Halpert for YEARS and then made out with him!”

“None of that was flirting—!”

“Friends, flirts, whatever!  None of that fucking matters after you kissed him back!  I ask him to keep an eye on you and you two suck face the minute I drive off!  How do you think that makes me feel, huh?!”

The guilt hits me like a train.  I stop packing and face him, needing to come clean, “I’m sorry,” I lament, “you’re right.  I hurt you tonight.  Jim and I both.  We never should have done that.”

“Damn right you shouldn’t have!”

“But Jim’s not why I’m calling it off.”

“Oh, bullshit!”

“It’s the truth!”

“Whatever reason could there possibly be?!”

“Roy, there’s a part of me that’ll always love you, okay, but we’re not meant to be!  We never were!  And for years now, you’ve been selfish, a-and jealous, and insecure, and—!”

“How long has that asshole been saying that about me—?!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME FINISH!”*

He flinched, clearly scared of what to say or do next.  It felt so damn good to see him on the opposite end for once.

“I shouldn’t have to confide in someone else rather than my fiancé for me to express how I feel!  I shouldn’t have to rely on a fiancé who discourages me from pursuing something I want because it’s convenient for him!  I shouldn’t have to come home to a fiancé who doesn’t even acknowledge me half the time, let alone set a date for our wedding after nearly FOUR YEARS!  You want the list of why you’re a FUCKING JACKASS, Roy Anderson?  There you go!  There’s the list in black and fucking white!”

His face became stark white and riddled with guilt.  I felt bad, I really did…

“Pammy—”
“Do you not realize how badly I wanted this to work?!” …but I pressed on.

The anger hides my tears, just barely, as I kept ranting.  “I pushed down my feelings for Jim because I saw a future with you, Roy!  I really did!  But we’re nine years going and it’s like we’re still right out of high school!  And the worst part is it’s all my fault!  I just sat on my ass and complained instead of doing anything about it!  Tonight I realized that I’m tired of not being happy, and I haven’t been for years now!”  I continue yelling as I grab more stuff.  “Oh, and just so you know, I turned Jim down, twice, because I thought I should stay in an unhealthy, unhappy, disaster of a marriage instead of moving the fuck on!  THAT’S why the wedding’s off, Roy!  Now get the FUCK out so I can pack my bag and leave!”

He was taken aback by this new sense of confidence I gained, and honestly so was I.  The gears were finally turning in his head, as mine was getting lightheaded from all my yelling.  “…Pam—”

“GET OUT!!”

And he did.  He actually did.  For once, I was proud.

After slamming and locking the door, I leaned behind it and just crumbled, sliding to the floor with my head in my hands, satisfied that 10,000 pounds just fell from my shoulders.

After my mini-breakdown, I packed some underwear, work/casual outfits, toiletries, my sketchbook, pencils, and charcoal.  That took 30 minutes.  Thankfully, Izzy texted me back, agreeing to let me stay at her place for a few days while I get back on my feet.  The following hour was me calling my folks, Penny, and Joyce Anderson.  Mom, Dad, and Penny lovingly agreed to come down, help me find my own place; I told Joyce that I’m sorry for breaking her son’s heart, who comforted me by saying I’ll always be her family and that God has a plan for both of us.

Throughout this entire ordeal, I couldn’t stop crying.

I’ve calmed down after a while.  I walk back to the living room in a casual outfit, hair down, waiting for Izzy to pick me up.  He was back on the couch, in front of the TV, another beer in hand.  It’s the only activity that seems to give him any peace anymore.  He looked so… broken.  I slowly sat next to him, needing to say something, “I’m so sorry, Roy.  I really am… for everything.  I never meant—”

“Don’t apologize, Pammy,” he began, his regret evident, “You’re right.  I’m pissed about Halpert, but I get it.  And if you want him instead, fine; I’m not gonna kill him.”  He’s… vulnerable.  I’ve never seen him like this.  “I’m a fuck-up, and I’ve never treated you right.  And you deserve better.  But… I can learn to be better.  I-I can change.  I’ll prove it to you, I can.  I’ll do whatever you need me to do in whatever way you want it.  Please,” I can hear the earnestness and desperation in his voice, “just… give this another chance.”

I sigh, appreciating the gesture yet knowing that it won’t make a difference, “I believe you can change, Roy,” I assure him, “And I’ll always care about you.  But… I can’t keep doing this.  To either of us.”  Finally, after four long years, I took off the ring and placed it on the coffee table; another 10,000 pound weight is free from my finger.  “It’s over.”

He’s crushed.  All this information hit him like a train.  Again, I don’t blame him either, I suffered the same thing, not six hours ago.  The next thing I knew he embraced me, beginning to cry, and I joined him.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized into my hair.

“I’m sorry, too,” I replied through my tears.  I honestly never meant to hurt him.  I know that’s how breakups are, yet there’s a part of me that, even now, that still sees him as the Roy I once knew.  It’s why I stayed.  But the way he’s been acting… of course, it was inevitable.  The writing was on the wall for years: he’s not that Roy anymore, he can’t be, and that realization finally caught up to the both of us.  But I never wanted it to come to this, this wasn’t the right way to do it.  In fact, this is the exact wrong way to do it.

I just broke two guys’ hearts in the span of two hours.  A feat that only Heather Chandler would celebrate.  God.

After a few more minutes of mourning, we gave each other one last chaste kiss, both of us knowing that this is it.  As I slowly let go and got up, he looked at me, his eyes tired and sad.  “If you ever need anything.”

“Thank you,” I responded with a small smile as I walked away, never looking back.  It was the hardest bandage I’ve ever had to rip off, but at least I’m healing.

I got to work the next morning, tired from all the crying I did at Izzy’s.  I saw Ryan sitting at Jim’s desk, figuring he was out for the day, understanding why.  About an hour later, Kelly walked to my desk.

“Oh my God, Pam, I am so sorry,” she consoled me, surprisingly genuine.

“Why?” I asked.

She gasps, “You don’t know?”  She looked around to see if anyone was listening and leaned down as if to gossip (like gossip’s not a daily occurrence in this damn office).  “Jim transferred to Stamford.”

I was shaken to my core, “W-what?”

“Yeah, I overheard Toby talk to Jan about it, and I feel so bad because you two were, like, best friends and hung out all the time.  Apparently, he talked to Jan about some promotion…”

I drowned her overly-long explanation out as my heart sunk.  He left me.  He left me because I pushed him away.  I should have told him the truth, but I chickened out.  And now he’s gone.  The moment I could be with my best friend, the one who knows me better than anyone else, has passed.

It’s all my fault.

I tried to focus on work, but as soon as my usual lunch break rolled around, I just couldn’t.  When I walked to Michael’s office, I noticed he’s kinda downtrodden himself.  I told him that my grandmother died and I needed time.  I could tell he knew there was more to it than that, so he wrapped me in a hug as I just cried on his shoulder for a bit.  He let me leave for the day and advised me to “Get yourself some ‘Haygen Days’ and relax, that’s an order.”  Michael’s obliviousness gave me some comfort; it was the first and only time I smiled that day.

As I walked out, I sat on the bench in the hallway, still crying, still overcome with emotion, trying to take in the news.  I saw Dwight walk up to me, sensing I was upset.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, determined, ready to defend me, “Where is he?”

“What?” I asked, puzzled, “No, it’s not… it’s nothing,” I claimed.  He took out his handkerchief and handed it to me.  “Thanks.”  He slowly sat next to me.  “You don’t need to stay here—”

“I know.”  He put his arm around me as I continued crying.  As gullible, arrogant, and infuriating as he is… Dwight was there for me, just like Michael.

“So you’re PMSing pretty bad, huh?”  He’ll get there.

The following six days were an exercise in misery.  Having to move out all of my stuff, having to avoid Roy at work, having to rely on my family to provide for me because of my spur-of-the-moment decision, having to not look five feet in front of me when I’m sitting at my desk so I don’t feel like shit once again.

By Monday, I didn’t even cry anymore.  I just became numb.

Now, it’s three in the morning.  Of course I can’t sleep.  I’m lying here thinking about everything I’ve done wrong, how I deserve it.  I deserve to be single.  I deserve losing him.  I deserve

No.

Fuck this.

I’m not wallowing in self-pity and refusing to a damn thing about it anymore.  If I had the guts to break up with Roy, I have the guts to call Jim and tell him the truth.

I’m going for it.  He hates me, he won’t wanna talk to me, at least he’ll know.  So I get my laptop and look up his office number; I’m not calling his cell because I doubt he’d answer.  I leave him a message, and of course I cry through it.  Whatever.  I don’t care anymore.

He needs to know.

If he rejects me like I did him, so be it.  At least he’ll know.  And he’ll hear it from me.

I fall back asleep until my alarm wakes me up at 7:00.

*(I kicked myself for thinking ‘That’s what she said’ immediately after saying that.  Thanks, Michael.)

3.01 “Gay Witch Hunt”

“…You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
“Me too. … I think we’re just drunk.”
“No, I’m not drunk.  Are you drunk?”
“No. … Jim—”
“You really gonna marry him?”
“…”
“Okay…”

And that’s how Ryan Howard became a real boy.

Jim’s transfer to Stamford (and subsequent promotion) meant Ryan got promoted as well to Junior Sales Associate at the Scranton Branch of Dunder Mifflin.  He’s certainly hyped to flaunt his new title at his high school reunion, right after he wipes deskmate and (self-proclaimed) Assistant Regional Manager Dwight Schrute’s fingernail clippings off his desk.  That’ll show ’em.

Meanwhile, Receptionist Pamela Beesly continues staring at Ryan’s desk, lamenting her decision once more.

Though she looks on, remorseful and downtrodden, her physical appearance seems to have improved.  She’s still in her usual attire, but her skin and hair have more color to them.  Her usual hairstyle is slightly shorter and, while still curly, lacks all the frizziness it used to have.

The whole situation still hits her hard.  She honestly never meant to hurt either of them, but she couldn’t lie to herself anymore.  She was tired of her relationship with her ex-fiancé, drained of energy.  Yet she couldn’t bring herself to admit it to Jim, the man she loves, until he was already gone.  Though time worked its magic and healed all those wounds, they can still be reopened.

Naturally, her boss, Scranton Branch Manager Michael Scott, makes things worse off-camera when he suggests she should get a body pillow.

She’s not the only one upset about Jim’s departure.

“Ji-him is go-o-one,” Dwight laments through his tears to the doc crew, “He’s go-one, I miss him so much!  Buhuh… Oh, I cry myself to sleep, Jim!  Buhuhuh— False.  I do not miss him.”

“No!” Michael presses to Human Resources Representative Toby Flenderson in his office the next day, “That is the fun of this place.  I call everybody ‘f**gy’,  Why would anyone find that offensive?”

“Okay, I think Oscar would just like if you used ‘lame’ or something like that,” Toby ever-so-gently refutes.

“That’s what f**gy means!”

“No, not really.”

Michael’s groan of exasperation means he’s as clueless as ever.  He (usually) never goes out of his way to be offensive, but much like a middle schooler, he’s never really considered the phrase ‘time and place’.  Case in point, when Accountant Oscar Marinez mentioned he prefers Shakespeare in Love over Die Hard, Michael found his opinion to be lame, and thus, f**gy.  There’s nothing wrong with that—

Toby informs Michael that Oscar is actually gay.  Now it sets in.  “And, obviously he hopes he can count on your discretion,” he advises him.

He reflects on this revelation with the crew, “I would have never called him that if I knew.  You don’t… you don’t call retarded people ‘retards’.  It’s bad taste.”  Okay, good.  “You call your friends ‘retards’ when they’re acting retarded.  And I consider Oscar a friend.”  There it is.

He decides to walk up to Oscar, offering a sincere apology, telling him that he doesn’t understand what it’s like, and invites him for a beer.  Oscar, very forgiving but clearly in a panic, accepts the offer.  He sits back down… the other accountants staring at him, knowingly.

Michael’s apology took place at the copier.

Oscar was just outed.

While his fellow Accountant Kevin Malone just giggles to the crew, Head Accountant Angela Martin tells them that “It explains so much.”  Oscar tries to cover it, lying to the crew, but then he decides to embrace himself, revealing in front of the camera — and, subsequently, millions of viewers — he is gay.  Kevin’s still giggling about it.

Cut to Stamford, Connecticut, where the branch’s Head Sales Representative James Halpert is on the phone with a client.  “I can’t say whether Dunder Mifflin paper is less flammable, sir, but I can assure you that it is certainly not more flammable.”

Jim’s certainly changed for the better.  He’s improved his eating habits, leading to a better figure, and has gained some muscle.  He’s cleanly shaven, and his hair, while disheveled as ever, is at least more organized, slightly more coiffed, the bangs not as pronounced.  His wardrobe has not changed, the only difference being he now wears his suit jacket throughout the workday.

“Why did I transfer to Stamford?” he answers the crew, “I think that’s pretty obvious… I got promoted!”  Yeah, that’s it.  “And you can’t beat that view… right?”  You really can’t.  It’s a blessing and a curse.  He can’t help but look on, thinking about her, wondering what’s going on at that reception desk, a smile on his face.

Fellow Sales Representative Andrew Bernard, his ‘desk neighbor’ for lack of a better term, interrupts Jim’s running thoughts.  “Hey, Big Tuna!” Andy greets, “You’re single right?”

“Mm-hm, yeah, I am.”

Andy gestures across the room to a young blond woman getting herself coffee, “She’s pretty hot, huh?”  Jim shrugs in agreement.  “She’s completely crazy.  Steer clear, Big Tuna.  Head for open waters.”

Jim doesn’t know how to respond but “…Okay.”

“Okay.”

Jim just looks at the camera, weirded out, as usual; he can’t help but sense the irony in that statement.

(It doesn’t help that his usual ‘Jim schtick’ is used later on when Andy wonders what happens when you google ‘Google’.  Jim goes ahead and does so, but Andy says was supposed to ponder the idea instead.  Apparently “Big Tuna” removed the fun.)

“I ate a tuna sandwich on my first day,” Jim explains to the crew, “So, Andy started calling me Big Tuna.”  He doubts anyone there actually knows his real name.  He’s yet to meet Pete Miller; they’ll share the same struggle.

“Big Tuna is a super ambitious guy… you know?” Andy tells them, acting as if he’s known him for years instead of four months, “Cut-your-throat-to-get-ahead kind of guy, but I mean I’m not threatened by him.”  Again, irony.  “I went to Cornell, you ever heard of it?” he chuckles, “I graduated in four years.  I never studied once.  I was drunk the whole time, and I sang in the a cappella group ‘Here Comes Treble’.”  He has just presented his entire autobiography.

Josh Porter, Stamford’s Regional Manager, meets with the staff in the conference room.  “So, end of day, we are going to have a little diversity policy refresher, because of some more problems at the Scranton branch.”  Jim turns to the camera as if to say ‘Big shock.’  “And I have a list of business startups I got from the chamber,” Josh brags, the rest of the branch excited, “Yes, I am going to need someone to cold call them.”  Jim, naturally, goes for it.

The camera pans to his fellow Sales Representative Karen Filipelli, looking at Jim suspiciously… almost longingly, as well.

“Jim’s nice enough,” Karen shares to the crew, “I don’t— I don’t know how well he’s fitting in here.  He’s always… looking at the camera, like this,” she replicates the ‘Jim Look’ with superb accuracy, “What is that?”  She has a point.

Michael consults with Dwight on who is gay and who isn’t.  Dwight believes Oscar’s not gay since, well, he’s not wearing women’s clothing.  He also advises Michael that he can just assume everyone is and not say anything offensive (a surprisingly apt if not odd suggestion from Dwight), but Michael doesn’t want to treat everyone like they’re gay.  He asks about Angela, and Dwight doesn’t think she is; Michael can see her with another woman.

The knowing grin on Dwight’s face confirms otherwise.

He offers to Michael that Jim mentioned something about a ‘gaydar’.

Jim, having no work to do at the moment, decides that he needs to promptly disclose as much information regarding the coveted gaydar as he can to the two Scranton employees over the phone.  “What’s a ‘gaydar’? … Oh, oh, gaydar, yes!  No, uh, I think they have it at Sharper Image,” he can barely hide his laughter, “… Oh, you know what?  I could check for you. … No problem,” he fake types on the keyboard, “It’s sold out!” he claims, about to lose it, “Yeah sorry about that, that’s a bummer.”

Jim really missed that.  It’s not the only thing he misses.

Michael and Dwight express their disappointment.  Dwight tries Brookstone instead.

As Pam looks into Michael’s office window, trying to hold in her laughter, privy to what’s going on, Warehouse Worker Roy Anderson enters the office with two plates of food covered in tinfoil.  Her face suddenly falls, though she tries to hide it for him.

Roy has had a rough go of it.  He’s gained a few pounds, grown a scruffy beard, and now constantly sporting bloodshot eyes.  Still quite an improvement over how he was a few months ago.

“Chicken and fish,” he offers, faking a smile.

She deliberates, “Chicken.”

He hands her the dish, figuring out what to say next, “So you havin’ a good day?”

“Excellent,” she says genuinely, “thanks.”

“Good, glad,” he answers genuinely.  A beat.  “Okay.”  He walks off.

As she turns back to the computer, the camera zooms in on her left hand… ringless.

She broke up with Roy.

“Yeah, I didn’t go through with the wedding,” she confirms to the crew.

Her chair’s the only one next to the outside window of the conference room.

“I got cold feet a few weeks before,” she continues, “And… I can’t really explain it, I just had to get out of that relationship.”  She really did.  “We still had to pay for all the food.  So we froze it.  But,” she continues, her mood brightening, “I’m-I’m doing well.  I have my own apartment, and I’m taking art classes… and I have lunch for the next five weeks.”  It’s best to find the silver linings.

Down at the warehouse, Roy shares his own experience of the past four months with them.  “After Pam dumped me, I um, I kinda stopped taking care of myself there,” he shamefully admits, “and uh, I hit bottom when uh, drunk driving arrest.”  The editors make sure to slip in the mugshot, much to Roy’s embarrassment.  “I’ve been working out and um, you know, I’m not gonna take her for granted.”  After a brief reflection of what he’s become, he now knows what to do next.  “I gotta win her back.”

Sales Representative Stanley Hudson now owns two toasters.

Meanwhile, Oscar’s day goes from bad to monumentally worse when Kelly Kapoor from Customer Service stops by, “That is so cool that you’re gay.  I totally underestimated you.”  She walks off, leaving him flabbergasted.

“Yes, I’m super-cool,” Oscar informs the crew, “I am an accountant at a failing paper supply company, Scranton.  Much like, um… Sir Ian McKellen.”

Angela, meanwhile, can’t help expressing her disdain to the crew, right after she uses hand sanitizer around the filthy heathen.  “Sure, sometimes I watch Will and Grace… and I want to throw up.  It’s terribly loud.  I do like it sometimes when Harry Connick Jr. is on.  He’s so talented.”  They’ve just learned her celebrity crush.

I’m a goddamn idiot.

I should have been smarter about this.  Nothing about this was smart.  I made all the wrong choices, said all the wrong things, kissed her at the worst possible time.  I cried on the way home while ‘Mr. Brightside’ by The Killers played on the radio.  Thank you, Brandon Flowers, for translating all of my pain into a song.  Exactly what I needed.

I walked in, thankful that Mark was in bed, and cried myself to sleep that night; I’d be doing that a lot the following days.  I didn’t bother calling any of my family, because I know exactly what they’d say.  My parents would tell me that everything’s okay when it wasn’t.  My brothers would insult me as always.  Larisa would call me an idiot for doing it all wrong.  I didn’t need to hear any of that shit.

As I laid in bed, in tears, I think back to the past six years working with Dunder Mifflin.  Why did I ever accept this job?  Apparently, all a marketing degree can get you is some sales rep position at a mid-range paper company.  I figured ‘Hey, it’s sales, I’m good at that, so I’ll work my way up, won’t be here long.’  I worked in the annex and got close to Toby, since he seemed to be the only guy in this building who seemed normal, unlike pretty much everyone else.  Never really interacted with anyone aside from the receptionist.  Every time she saw me walk over, her face lit up as we shared these short back and forths.  She’s beautiful, charming, and sharp-witted.  We weren’t even friends yet and I was already drawn to her.

Ed Truck wasn’t the friendliest guy, but he was good to me and at least was a boss.  Then that one salesman with bad hair and a fanny pack got promoted a year later.  Just… how does one man lack all sense of self-awareness, social cues, and cognitive thinking at the same time?  I can tell he’s a good guy at heart but the man’s an overgrown child, like Tom and Pete with their filters off.  A year into his promotion, Michael’s unwarranted and frankly frightening hatred of Toby resulted in me being moved to the bullpen at his old desk because I’m “too cool” for Toby, apparently.

As I was getting my stuff together, the receptionist signaled me to her as she whispered to me, “Yeah, enjoy this moment, because you’re never going to go back to this time before you met your deskmate, Dwight.”  That was the day I truly fell in love with Pam Beesly.

And, oh dear God, was she ever right.  I’ve never met a more infuriating person in my entire life.  Michael is the devil I know, but Dwight is the enigma I can never understand.  What a goddamn narcissistic brown-nosing sociopath.  Every time I regret pranking him, I remember the fact that he stole a whole 25% of my commission.  Fucking asshole.

And it’s not like I really got to know my other coworkers.  Kevin, who got hired shortly after I changed desks, is slow but a decent guy; the two of us became drinking buddies but that’s about it.  Phyllis is sweet, gave me some of her homemade brownies from time to time.  But I had nothing in common with Devon, Angela is off-putting, Oscar keeps to himself a lot of the time, Meredith hit on me once a week, Stanley somehow has less motivation than I do, Kelly will talk both your ears off, everyone in the warehouse thinks we’re a joke (because we are), and I’m pretty sure Creed is a drug lord.  I thought I could spark a friendship with Ryan since he’s both around my age and in the same boat I am.  But… I dunno, he’s always seemed kinda cocky and self-absorbed.  Hell, we’re probably too similar if anything.

As for Pam, we were the best of friends; she was the only one who I could call a friend in the office.  We have similar interests.  We have the same sense of humor.  We both know how insufferable Dwight is.  Shortly after I changed desks, the two of us went to lunch during our break.  When I told her that every conversation I had with her brightened my day, she told me I’d brighten her day, as well.  I was gonna officially ask her out… and then she reveals that she just got engaged to Roy, one of the warehouse guys.  And, yeah, that sucked, but hey, if she’s happy with him, great.  The first few times we interacted, he seemed cool; we shot the shit about sports from time to time.  And then I saw the way he treats Pam… good God.  She seems to be more and more upset every time she’s around him, like she has to put up an act.  And it’s not that I didn’t want to be happy for Pam, I honestly did.  All I want is for her to be happy, and something tells me she just… isn’t.  Every time I see her around Roy, I just think “why is she staying with him?”

When Katy stopped by the office, I have to admit, I was smitten.  She’s a sweet girl.  Beautiful and charming like Pam, but a bit of a ditz.  Still, she carries herself well and things were great at first.  The problem was we had absolutely nothing in common.  Whenever she wanted to do something like go to the mall or go see a chick flick or something, I eventually just went along with it because it was better than arguing about it like we did early on.  She always won, of course.  I was a grade-A jackass for breaking up with her like I did, I just didn’t want either of us lying to each other anymore.

And then Casino Night happened.  Mark was the only other person that knew what I was about to do.  Like a good friend and someone with a brain, he tried to talk me out of it, as would anyone else.  But I just wanted, needed to be honest with her.  I awaited rejection, but a sliver of hope convinced me that things would work out, that I wouldn’t have to endure the woman I love marrying someone who doesn’t treat her the way she deserves.  She said no, by the way.

Like an idiot, I had to press on.  When I entered the office and heard her talking to her mom, she sounded so unsure of what to do, so I figured the kiss was my last chance to show her how badly I want us to be more than that… and she said no.  Again.  I don’t blame her, I’d reject me.

I think what hurts the most is… I can’t help believing she wanted us to be more than that, too.

But why her?  What is it about her that captivated me so much?  Why couldn’t I just stay friends with her?  What is it about her that drove me to do something this drastic?  To the point where I have to move out of state just to get over her rejection?  I don’t get it, I don’t fucking get it.

As the crying stopped and sleep overcame me, I realized something.  Dealing with an insecure boss, making fun of a pompous ass, falling in love with a girl who doesn’t want me… is this really what I want my life to be like?  Because that’s a pretty fucking pathetic life.  My time in Dunder Mifflin Scranton, all of it, just made me realize that I have no future there; the worst part is, in a strange way, I was kinda hoping I did.  At least for a while.

Michael, despite him being Michael, recently shared the best advice anyone has ever given me: “Never, ever, ever give up.”  He wasn’t just talking about Pam, either.  And here I am, giving up.  All because of Pam.

Whatever.  In a few years, none of it would even matter anyway.

I took the next day off to move out quietly since Mark knew about me leaving beforehand, since I sorted out everything for the transfer in advance.  I found a new apartment, fully furnished, all set to go.  I decided it was best to just reinvent myself.  I got a better position so, hell, why not act like it?  Take this job more seriously, free of distraction.  I made sure that I was sharper-looking, my clothes fitting better.  I left my suit jacket on while on the clock.  I changed my diet, wanted to eat healthier (well, eat less).  Y’know, the standard “Today’s a Brand New Day!” checklist.

My first day, I decided to sit near a window so I could get some sun, enjoy the scenery.  Soon after, I got to know my new boss, Josh Porter; he was very welcoming and thankful he had a “salesperson of my caliber” under his employ.  And, unlike Michael, he seems to have a clue.  But I don’t feel I belong here yet; none of my coworkers are all that friendly, they just kept to themselves.  At least Scranton was an outgoing mental institution.  I feel like an outsider, even still.  The only one that made me feel welcome besides Josh was Karen Filippelli, who sits behind me.  From what little I’ve talked to her she seems great.  She has this air of confidence about her: savvy, driven, and ambitious.  Different from…  And she also has a great sense of humor, similar to mine.  She’s probably the least “normal” out of all the normal people here.  There aren’t a lot of people here who I feel I can talk to or interact with.

…Meanwhile, there’s Andy Bernard, the only one I don’t want to talk to or interact with in any capacity.

How to best describe him?  He’s like Dwight but… a variant, for lack of a better term.  He’s obsessive, aggressive, annoying, and a total kiss-ass, just in different ways.  For starters, he cannot for the life of him shut up about his college days.  If I took a shot every time he said “Cornell” or “Big Red,” I would die of alcohol poisoning by the end of the day.  He also sings.  A lot.  Loudly.  Oh, and he has a penchant for nicknames.  On my first day, as I was sitting there eating my tuna sandwich that tasted like cardboard (not because of the tuna), he decided to call me “Big Tuna” from then on out.  Not the worst nickname I’ve ever had.  Still not a fan.

And he sits right in front of me so he can constantly chat with me.  Fantastic.

It’s now the Friday of my first week.  I arrive and set my stuff down when I see I got a new message on my work phone.

[“Hey Jim… i-it’s Pam.]
My whole body tenses as I hear her voice.

[“I know I’m the last person you wanna speak to right now, but I need to tell you something.]
I hear her take a deep breath as mine’s taken away.

[“After the kiss, I broke it off with Roy.  Told him everything that happened between us that night.  The wedding’s off.  My family helped me move to a new place.  There were a lot of reasons to break it off but…”]  I hear it in her voice, she’s getting upset.  [“none of them mattered until I met you.]
I run my hands through my hair.  Why did I ask for this promotion in the first place?  Why didn’t I stay?  Why am I such a coward?

[“I’m sure you’ve probably moved on at Stamford since you got promoted, and I’m so proud of you, but I just…”]  She’s about to cry.  [“I need you to know.]
My heart is physically disintegrating at this point.

[“I’m so sorry,”] she apologizes through her tears, [“I needed to be honest with you, and I wasn’t.  I should have never let you walk away.]
God, Pam, please stop beating yourself up!

[“You didn’t misinterpret anything.  I… I’m in love with you, too.]
…I really am a goddamn idiot.

[“That’s it.  That’s all.  I want nothing but the bes—”] the message ends abruptly, the timer cutting off.

I set the phone down, leaning back into my chair, hand over my mouth, taking everything in, trying not to cry.  Then the running thoughts start flooding in: is she being honest?  If so, why did she lie to me?  Why did she reject me?  Twice?  Is Roy… no, he’s an asshole, but he’d never lay a hand on her.  But why stay with him?  He hurt her… but I hurt her too.  Arguably worse.  Why is she the one apologizing?  I’m the pussy that ran away from his problems, if anything it should be the other way around.  If I stayed… if I stayed… this could all have been avoided.

I’m the fucking worst.

I was hoping not to have an emotional breakdown in the middle of the office, and my coworkers still take notice.  “Hey Halpert,” Karen asks, concerned, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Big T, what’s got you down in the dumps?” Andy asks alongside her in his usual ‘Nard Dog’ delivery.

I try to find the words, “Yeah, I’m fine, I just… I need some air.”  I practically jump out of my seat, hurry out of the office, find a nearby bench in the hallway of the building, and breathe through my intense emotions.  The moment I sit down I fumble trying to grab my cell, hurriedly finding her number.  It rings for the longest time until, thank God, she answers it.

[“Hi.”]  I can tell she’s in the stairwell.

“Hey.  How are things over there?”

[“Eh, same old,”] she replies as nonchalantly as possible, [“Hey, how’s Stamford?”]

“New look, same flavor,” I respond, “Found a window seat.  Hell of a view.”

[“Nice!”]

“Yeah.”  I keep dancing around the subject, it’s what I’m best at.  That’s not an option anymore.  I sober as I tell her the truth, “I’m still in love with you, Pam.  I never stopped.  For a whole week now I’ve tried, but… guess you’re just that unforgettable.”  The weight of my words hits me as I quietly mumble my apology through my tears, “I’m sorry, Pam, I’m so sorry.”

Fuck, now she’s crying, too.  [“I’m so sorry, Jim.  I hope you can forgive me.”]  God, I wish I was there so I could get rid of her tears.

“Of course I do,” I respond in earnest, “I’m the one who fucked up.”

[“Jim, don’t do that,”] she presses, [“We’ve both made mistakes.  Besides, I’ve already forgiven you.”]

“Thank you,” I say through an all-too-noticeable voice crack.  I swallow, trying to breathe.  I need to think of something.  This isn’t the end of us.  It can’t be.

I can’t give up now.

“Um… do you want to get together and talk?  ’Cause I… I wanna give this… us a chance.”  I attempt damage control just in case.  “I-I mean if that’s what you—”

[“I want nothing more,”] she interrupts me.  That sliver of hope from last week is coming back.  [“I can leave after work, head to your new place.”]

“Oh, I was gonna drive there—”

[“I don’t mind.  Besides, I wanna see your new crib.”]

I sport an honest, genuine smile for the first time in a week, “Yeah, it’s not really anything that’ll show up on MTV.”

She smiles too, I can tell in her voice, [“I still want a tour.  VIP.”]

“So demanding, Beesly.”  She giggles in that way I already miss.

We both sigh heavily, getting our emotions in check.  [“I’ll see you tonight.”]

“Sounds good.”

[“Bye, Jim.”]

“Bye, Pam.”

The conversation ends.  There is no way I can focus on getting anything done now.  I talk to Josh, claiming that my grandmother passed and I need some time, which he allowed, apologizing for my loss.  I thank Karen and Andy for their sympathetic words, and I’m off, awaiting what the hell’s gonna happen next.

Here’s to you, Michael, I’m finally taking your advice.

3.02 “The Convention”

Michael walks into the office happily, greeting Pam with an odd question, “Pam?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you see Oprah yesterday?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I, uh… I am going to be a father.”

Um…  “What was Oprah about?”

“Angelina Jolie was on,” he continued, “And she adopted a baby from Asia, and she said that it changed her life.  And that… really inspired me.  So, I want you to look into seeing how much a little Chinese baby would cost.”

Oh, dear God.  “That’s a really big decision.”

“I know,” he responds awkwardly.

“Maybe you should wait before you adopt.”

“Well…”
“Ornotadopt.”
“Just do it, okay?” he says through his nervous chuckle as he begins to walk to his office.

She needs to find a solution to this.  “Roy’s sister looked into it,” she stops him, “and the application alone costs a thousand dollars.”

He’s surprised by the price; Pam cringes in confirmation.  “Um… find out if there’s a cheaper… less expensive baby out there, okay?” he asks.

“You know, she also said the waiting list is like eight months.”

“Eight months?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t even know if I’ll want a baby in eight months.”

She knows him too well, “You probably won’t.”

They both sigh in annoyance (his genuine, hers not) as Michael gets an idea, “You know what, Pam?  If in ten years… I haven’t had a baby, and you haven’t had a baby…”

Ew!  “No, Michael.”

“Twenty years.”

Ugh, Stop!  “No.  Michael.”

“…Thirty.”

Just humor him.  “…Sure.”

“It’s a deal.”  They awkwardly shake hands and he walks off.  She sighs, knowing that she’ll call Jim later.  They usually don’t chat on Wednesdays, but after that exchange she needs emotional support.

The next day, Michael prepares for his trip to a certain convention held in Philadelphia, PA.  Ryan, Michael’s personal assistant employee, lists off everything Michael needs for the trip, making sure he has everything before he has the chance to complain.

“Alright, three pairs of pants,” Ryan lists off.
“Mm-hm”
“Three pairs of socks.”
“Mm-hm”
“Three packs of condoms.”
“Y e s h.”

Angela enters, curtly telling Michael to sign something.  He sing-songs the phrase “Per Diem” as he signs off on it, the per diem itself a whole hundred dollar bill.  (Creed peers inside, taking notice.)

Soon after, Michael brags to the doc crew about his trip.  “Guess where I am going,” he begins, “I will give you a hint: It is a booze-fueled sex romp, where anything goes.  You are correct, sir!  I am headed to Philadelphia for the Annual Northeastern Mid-Market Office Supply Convention,” he says in amazement, “And Jim Halpert is going to be coming, which will be fun.”  He seems disheartened as he says that.  “Poor… little guy,” he’s hiding his annoyance, “He’s been stuck working under Josh, the poor man’s Michael Scott… as he is known around my condo.”

Back to the moment, he shows off the hundred dollar bill to Ryan, “You know, Ryan, it’s all about the Benjamins.”

Ryan doesn’t respond, “Uh, fun jeans.”

“Right there,” he points to the door.

Ryan just rolls his eyes.  “Fourth quarter projections for Jan?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Oh, yeah, have Pam give those to me.”

“Will do.”

Michael still wants him there, “Sure you don’t want to come?”

“Yeah.”

“Gonna be fun!  Change your mind we can get you a cot.”

Ryan shakes his head, attempting to accept that this is his life now.

Meanwhile, an even more annoyed Angela and a frustrated Dwight (aka the ‘Office Love Affair’) discuss the convention, their secret relationship as strong as ever.  “Don’t be mad,” Dwight reassures by the fridge, “it is a business trip.”

“But I don’t understand,” she argues by the water cooler, “It’s for managers.”

“Monkey, I am an A.R.M.  Assistant Regional Manager.”

“I know!  It— I was just really hoping we could spend some time together.”  Dwight, upset, was hoping for the same thing.  “Are you still there?”

“Yes, Monkey.”

“Don’t ‘Monkey’ me!” she snides, “You can’t wait to get out of here.  A.R.M.”  She storms off.

She tells the crew why her fears are not unfounded, “In the Martin family, we like to say, ‘Looks like someone took the slow train from Philly.’  That's code for ‘check out the slut.’”  She then gets frustratingly distracted by flies buzzing around.  She gets annoyed easily.

An exuberant Kelly walks up to Pam’s desk, hyped.  “Oh my God!  Are you so excited for tonight?  I am so excited, you guys are going to click, I can feel it.  So what are you wearing?”

“This,” Pam said casually, presenting her work outfit.

Kelly tries to form a compliment.  “You look so pretty.”

Pam could tell it was a backhanded one.  “Thank you.”

“Yes, Kelly set me up with someone,” she later confirms to the crew, “He’s a cartoonist for the local paper, which is really neat because I like to draw too.”  She looks apprehensive discussing it.  “I’m kind of nervous.  I haven’t been on a first date in, like… four months,” she clicks her tongue and nods, “It’s hard putting yourself out there.”

“Well, remember, no matter how much you may want to, do not sleep with him on the first date,” Kelly advises, “It gives him all the power.”  No worries there.

Michael hears about the date, suggesting that she should wear her wedding dress for a laugh.  It’d be a great icebreaker.  Yeah, stellar idea.  Dwight, his usual brown-nosing self, adds to the suggestion that she should use her veil as well.

“I’ll probably just wear this,” she says politely, hiding her annoyance.

“Really?” Michael asks, puzzled, “Okay, well, word of advice: unbutton that top button.  Let those things breathe.”  Oh, screw off, Michael.  “Any message you want me to relate to Jim?”

“Um…” she answers awkwardly, subtly shaking her head no.  Michael can’t find out, at least not yet, if at all.  Not even the doc crew should know yet.  They know this office, they know the crew wants a story, they know the company might not approve, and by God, they need their peace.

“Um.  Okay, um,” Michael says, feeling just as awkward.

“Um,” Dwight parrots.
“You got that?”
“I got it.”
“Write it down.”
“I got it.”
“Um.”
“Um…” Michael begins to sing.  Dwight joins in.  “Um-um-um, um-um-um-um…”

Pam just sits there, wondering what just happened… desperately wanting to go with them just so she can see him again.

Meanwhile, Creed asks Angela about the ‘shekels’ handed out earlier; Angela confirms it was just the per diem for the trip.  While Meredith says the town smells like cheesesteaks, Angela states that the town is full of history, clearly annoyed that she’s not with Dwight.

“Andrea’s the, uh, office bitch,” Creed tells Meredith as he starts to eat ‘Andrea’s’ cereal, “You’ll get used to her.  Creed,” he sticks out his hand to introduce himself to the woman he’s sat across from for years.

Michael and Dwight’s train ride is uneventful.

Dwight asks for his neck pillow back.  Michael has headphones in, can’t hear him.  Dwight just gives up.  Good times.

After a while, they finally reach the convention center.  Michael reunites with Josh… and Jim.

“There he is!” Michael points at Jim, “There’s the traitor!  Traitor!  Traitor!  Come here, you, come here!  Yeah!” the two embrace, “The product-the proginal… my son returns.”  Michael forces a strained smile, still upset about the whole thing.

“I was shocked when he told me he was transferring to Stamford,” Michael admits to the camera, “It’s like the firemen.  You don’t leave your brothers behind, even if you find out that there is… a better fire in Connecticut.”  That’s how fires work.

“It’s really good to see you, man,” Jim says, wearing a disingenuous smile of his own, just more natural-looking.  Michael’s the one person he wanted to avoid.  Even more than Dwight.

Michael still tries to hold back his feelings, “Yeah!  Wow, I didn’t expect that.  It’s good to see you too!”  He nods his head in respect.

“Oh, hey,” Dwight addresses Jim, mocking him, “how’s it going up there?  Have you made any sales yet?”

“Yeah, sold about forty thousand.”

“Hey!” Michael compli—
“Shut up.  That’s impossible,” Dwight argues.

“No, it’s not,” Jim retorts, “I did.  Yep.”

“Well, I did it too.”  Good for you, Dwight.

“You know, when I saw Dwight, I realized how stupid and petty all those pranks I pulled on him were,” Jim reflects at the camera, “…And then he spoke.”  He considers what to do next.  “I wonder how hard it would be to get a copy of his room key.”

Old habits die hard.

Kevin shares some exciting news with Toby, “So did you hear?”

“What?”

“Pam’s back on the market again.”

“Really, she’s dating?” Toby asks quietly.

“If I weren’t engaged I would so hit that.”  We know, Kev.

The unlucky, downtrodden HR rep feels his luck might finally turn around.

As Dwight attempts to make fun of Jim some more (“Ah Dwight, I missed you so much.”), Josh compliments Michael on his salesmanship, and if Stamford ever absorbs Scranton, he’ll always have a place there.  Michael shakes his head at the thought.

It’s not as crazy as you’d think.

Enter Jan, gathering her things.  “We all checked in?”

“Yes,” Josh answers.

“Great, let’s dump our stuff and meet back here in half an hour.”

“Okay.”

“Okay!”

And here comes Michael.  “Jan—” he clears his throat, “Look, I think we need to set some ground rules.”

She’s puzzled, “…What are you talking about?”

“The eight-hundred pound gorilla in the room.  Carol.  I’m still dating her, so nothing… can happen between us at the convention.”  As this is happening, Dwight tries to find their room, squinting at the plaque.

She’s not doing this today.  “Step away from me, Michael.”

“Thank you… for being so brave with all of this.  Thank you.”

She attempts to comprehend what just happened, asking God “Why me?” in her head.

Pam reads the paper, looking at one of Alan’s comics from today’s paper.

“Alan’s cartoon is so funny, right?”

“Mm-hmm,” she agrees.  It’s cute.

Jim texted me his new address not long after our talk earlier this morning.  I told him it’d be around 8:30 to 9:00 pm when I got there but no earlier than that.  He simply replied

{no prob, youre worth the wait}

My heart is still fluttering from that.

It’s nearly 6:00 pm when I get my stuff together and drive to Stamford.  Packed an overnight bag just in case.  I doubt he’d actually want me to stay there, even if something does come out of this, but I’m planning for the best-case scenario.  Halfway there, I grab some McDonald’s because I’m hungry.  I’m not one who usually does fast food, but I just need something in my system because I didn’t have lunch today; my damn nerves just love affecting my appetite.  Besides, I need to make sure I get to Jim’s as quickly as possible.

I’m going to see Jim.

I arrive at his place at around 20 ’til 9:00, the Big Mac churning in my stomach due to all the nerves.  I ring the doorbell, and he answers in his casual outfit of a shirt, a loose sweater, and a pair of jeans.  He looks exactly like he did during his barbecue.

I’m immediately put at ease with his next words, “Why, good evening, madam,” he says in a sophisticated voice; it’s the first time I’ve seen him genuinely happy in weeks.

I giggle at his little act and play along, “And good evening to you, sir.”

He moves out of the way and gestures to me to enter, “Come on in.”

“Why thank you.”

“Make yourself at home,” he says in earnest as he closes the door behind him.  I find a recliner and get comfortable, and he sits on the couch adjacent to it.

There’s a tense silence as we’re both trying to figure out where to go from here.

He goes first.  “How much did you tell Roy?”

“Everything,” I answer, “That you confessed your love and kissed me.”

“How did he take it?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“At first, all he did was call you a creep.  He only got upset when I admitted that I had feelings for you.”

Jim raises his eyebrows in shock, not expecting me to be that honest with Roy.  “You told him that?”

“Yeah, he was furious.”

“I don’t blame him,” he responds.  I can see he feels bad for Roy just as much as I do.

“I told him the reasons for breaking it off,” I continue, “that he was never emotionally available, that he never put in any effort, that he strung me along for years, all of it.”  He nods, and I continue.  “I was the only girlfriend he ever had so when we broke up…” I keep my tears at bay, “He begged me to stay.  That he was willing to change and make an effort and treat me right, but,” I bite my lip and attempt not to cry.  Jim finds a box of tissues and hands them to me gently; I can tell by his face he wants to dry them himself, but he wants to keep his distance for now.  I smile and mouth a ‘Thank you’ to him.

He smiles back before he sobers and looks at me, “Have you run into him since?”

“Not even at work,” I admit, “My folks and I made sure to grab everything that’s mine from— his place during the times he was out.”  I’m still getting used to it.

“Mm.”

I take a deep breath as I begin.  “I’m sorry.  I wanted to tell you the truth.”

“Why didn’t you?” he asks plainly.

“Insecurity, fear, the usual,” I told him, “I understand if you don’t forgive me.”

“Of course I forgive you,” he states gently but with tenacity, “I just… it makes no sense to me.”

“What doesn’t?”

“You weren’t honest with me,” he’s confused and a bit miffed, “You were honest with him before me.”

“I know, and I should have been,” I admit, “I… I didn’t want to upset him.”

“How many times has he upset you?” he asks pointedly.

It’s too valid of a question to refute, but I try anyway, “Jim, I’ve been with him for nearly a decade,” I press, “That’s not something that can be shrugged off.  Besides, I had no time to think.”

He’s still perplexed, he doesn’t understand.  “What was there to think about, Pam?  You really had to think about leaving someone who mistreated you?  For years?”

“I had to think about my best friend dropping a bomb at my feet and running off!” I suddenly blurt out, “You told me you were in love with me, Jim.  That’s not something you just casually say, i-it came out of nowhere.  I needed time to take it all in, to figure all of this out,” I start getting more and more annoyed with him as I keep talking, “I needed time you didn’t give me.”

He responds to that with a quiet, humorless laugh, “To be honest, I doubted that you’d have any other reaction.  I was bracing for it.  I guess I wanted you to… I dunno, wake up?” he shrugs, “I mean, it’s not like we were flirting, and yeah, it may have looked like it, but I just thought there was a connection there… and I know you thought the same thing.”

“I did, Jim,” I admit, “But the moment I finally woke up, you were gone.  Just… gone.”  Hurt is evident in my voice, and so is frustration.  “The next day.  I had to find out from Kelly, Jim.  Fucking Kelly.  There wasn’t even time for a goodbye party for Phyllis and Angela to plan and bitch about.”  He remains silent and stoic.  “When I found out about the transfer, I… I had to ask Michael if I could go home for the rest of the day.  I couldn’t even focus on my menial job.”  He’s still silent, but I just had to know.  “Why did you leave, without so much as a goodbye?”

It’s a couple seconds before he speaks up.  “Before the kiss, I thought I really was the lovesick creep like Roy assumed I was, going for a girl that I could never have.  I mean, I’ve been rejected before, but with you… it hit me way harder than it should have.  I decided to go for the kiss anyway because I knew, I just knew this was different, something else entirely.  But it wasn’t the kiss that convinced me that you felt the same way.”  He swallows deeply, trying to hold back his emotions.  “It was when you said ‘Me too’.”

Oh, my God.  I finally get it.  I didn’t just lie to him… I lied to myself, too.

“And when you said you’d still marry him, I… I just couldn’t stand it,” he says quietly, “I can’t stand the thought of my best friend being unhappy.  So I decided to just… move away.  Of course, it was wrong and selfish, but… I figured a goodbye would only hurt us both more.  Because nothing would be the same after that.  And that’s my fault.”

His face twists for a moment, his emotions getting more and more difficult to hold back.  All I wanna do now is hold him.

“Pam… you have no idea how beautiful you are.  And that’s not just me saying that.  The more I got to know you, the more you became the only part that could help me get through that… circus.”  I almost chuckle at his apt comment about Dunder Mifflin Scranton.  “You made me look forward to workdays.  Hell, you made me more motivated to work.  And Roy just,” he shakes his head, “I betrayed his trust.  And I’m not proud of it.  But dammit, Pam, being at that wedding would have torn me to pieces.  Because every time I saw you with him, you were just… sad.”

I only nod in response.

He shakes his head, ashamed.  “I should have stayed,” he laments, holding back his anger, “I should have never even considered the transfer.  But no.  Had to just give up and run away because I couldn’t be with a girl who was engaged,” He looks at me with those hazel eyes that are piercing my soul, “A girl I don’t deserve.”

His face… it was the same one from that night.  His eyes bloodshot, skin pale, failing to keep it together.  I never thought I could feel this awful.

He’s shaking with anger as he leans down, his head in his hands and his fingers clutching his haphazard hair, shuddering.  “I’m such a FUCKING idiot!”  Seeing him like this… it’s a knife that’s just stabbed me in the heart.

An outburst like that from Roy would make me flinch.  But with Jim, it doesn’t, because he’s angry at himself and not me like he should be.  So much so that he can’t bear to even look at me, despite me being the one that lied to him.  I felt shitty enough rejecting him — twice — but seeing for myself how badly I hurt him…

“I hurt you,” he guiltily whispers, “I’m sorry, Pam, I…”  Now he’s shuddering through his sob.

I’m a monster.

I have to do something, anything, everything to take his pain away, so I walk over, sit next to him, and rub his back in small circles, needing to soothe him; he seems to start relaxing, but he’s still breaking.

“Jim… Jim, don’t beat yourself up.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” he says in a watery voice, “I walked away.  I walked away when I didn’t get what I wanted.  I’m selfish and a goddamn coward.”

I want to tell him that this isn’t all on him, that I should have just been honest, but instead, I say “Jim, I forgive you.”

He looks over to me, tear splotches under his eyes, looking at me in disbelief, “How can you say that?”

I look at him and give him a sad smile, telling him that I’m here.  “Because you’re my best friend.”

He looks down, lightly laughing through his tears, which calms him down.  God, I missed that laugh.  “How do you know exactly what to say?” he asks.

I reach over and grab his hand, “I could ask you the same question.”

He grips my hand tighter as we lean back and get comfortable, just sitting right next to each other for about a minute, until my own emotions bubble to the surface.

“Jim?” I say, quiet as a mouse.

He turns towards me, much calmer but no less shaken, “Hey… it’s okay.”

I really look at him, his cheeks still tear-stained, still breathing heavy, yet he’s worried about me.  He’s crying because of me.

“I just… I need you to hold me…”

The next thing I know I’m perched on his lap, his arms wrapped around and clutching me as I hold onto him just as tightly.  I just flat-out bawl, letting out all of my pent up emotions into his shoulder.  All the anger, fear, anticipation, resentment, regret, all of it.  I can tell he’s trying to keep his tears at bay, wanting to be my rock, but he quietly cries once again.  I try to speak, wanting to apologize profusely for everything I’ve done to him — the denial, the mixed signals, the claims of misinterpretation — but he softly shushes me and kisses my cheek; I can tell he’s already forgiven me.

Just being in his arms… it feels right.  More right than it ever did with Roy.  All of my fears and anxieties are melting away.  I’m calmed, I’m protected, I’m loved.  Despite all the shit we’ve put each other through in the past week and the fact that we’re both broken messes right now… we’re here.  We’re both here and together and in love.  This is the absolute worst, I wish I could hold onto this moment forever.

As our tears subside, I suddenly blurt out something I’ve felt for the longest time but never vocalized.

“I love you.”

3.03 “The Coup”

“Movie Monday!” Michael announces to the doc crew as he picks out a DVD, “The only cure I know for the ‘Monday Blues’ is… Varsity Blues!”

Yup, Michael’s “unique” methods in increasing productivity include halting work on the first workday of the week to just… straight-up watch a movie.  Dwight ushers everyone in, while Pam hands out fresh popcorn to the “guests”; Michael is the only one that wants any.

“Movie Monday started with training videos,” Pam explains to the crew, “but we went through those pretty fast.  Then we watched a medical video.”  She’s still trying to make sense of it all even when she’s saying this out loud.  “Since then, it’s been half-hour installments of various movies, with the exception of an episode of Entourage, which Michael made us watch six times.”  (“Entouraaaaaagge!”)

While Kevin goes scene-by-scene what happened the last time they watched it, Jan walks into an empty office.  Dwight notes that someone doesn’t approve of Movie Monday.  It’s Angela.  Big surprise there.  And she rats them out to Jan while at her station.

Her expression says it all.

Michael still invites her to watch it with them, which makes her more pissed at him by the second.  “How would a movie increase productivity, Michael?” she confronts him in his office not ten minutes afterward, “How on earth would it do that?”

“People work faster after…”

“Magically?”

“No… they have to… to make up for the time” he tries to explain himself better but to no avail, “they lost watching the movie.”

“No.”  While Jan continues to tear him a new one,

“Kitchen.”

Dwight and Angela, the Office Love Affair, congregate once again.

“Michael is going to get us all fired,” she argues to Dwight next to the fridge, “You sat back and let him play that dumb movie, and now Jan is peeved off and we’re all going to lose our jobs.”

“That’s not going to happen,” he reassures.

“You know she has it out for him now.”

Dwight stands by his bro.  “That’s not his fault!  He had to follow his heart!”

“Ever since Michael dumped Jan for Carol, Jan’s been bitching out on him,” Dwight oh so eloquently phrases it to the crew, “Reject a woman and she will never let it go.  One of the many defects of their kind.  Also weak arms.”  Because if there’s anyone who truly understands women, it’s Dwight Schrute.

“Dwight… you should be running this office,” Angela pushes.

This gets him thinking… maybe he should.  Jim’s gone, so there’s no more competition on who’s the best salesman of the branch (as if the winner wasn’t obvious).  Jan has it out for Michael, which can be easily taken advantage of.  Besides, Michael’s an idiot when it comes to matters of the heart, he dug his own grave.  Plus, there are ideas that only Dwight would have the steel-plated balls to implement, ideas that will make Dunder Mifflin Scranton the empire it deserves to be.

But his loyalty is too strong.

“Michael would never let me…” he refutes, halfheartedly.

“It’s not up to Michael, it’s Jan’s call,” she argues, “Talk to her.”

“I could never do that!”

“Fine!” she snaps back, “Sit back and do nothing and let us all get fired!”  And this hits Dwight hard.  Because it’s one thing letting Michael down… but it’s another letting Monkey down.

For Angela, it’s not just about their jobs, either.  There’s a reason why she loves Dwight, why she’s his Monkey.  She knows Dwight’s potential.  Strong.  Capable.  Cultured.  If one is to truly become a man, Dwight should be the one to look to for guidance.  She knows him, his mind, his skills, his body… with him running his office, he would be king.  And she would be the queen by his side.

And that is what frustrates her in the end.

“I know that patience and loyalty are good and virtuous traits,” she tells the crew, “But sometimes I just think you need to grow a pair.”  Valid take.

Jan leaves Michael’s office, Dwight enters, “Hey,” he shuts the door to talk to him, “Is everything okay?”

“It is not your business, Dwight,” Michael impatiently refutes.

“If the branch is in trouble, there are things you can do.”

“What do you know about management, Dwight?”

This was Dwight’s chance to prove himself, “I know that we need to cut costs.  We could fire Meredith.  That’s a big cost.”
“I’m not firing anyone.”

“Creed might be living here, we could charge him rent.”

“…What?”

“Four nights a week, I sleep under my desk,” Creed explains to the crew, “and then three nights I stay at my place in Toronto.  They don’t know about this job up there.  It’s a welfare state.  Beautiful countries, both of ’em.”

Michael tries to get everyone back inside, to no avail.  Stanley’s on the phone and Ryan wisely states that Jan said it wasn’t allowed.  So Michael, the master of not letting things go, to use the scheduled movie time for online Scrabble.

Angela looks at Dwight and shakes her head at his inaction.

“The Schrutes are a very loyal breed,” Dwight explains to the crew, “But I also have Mannheim blood from my German grandmother.  And the Mannheims knew when to cut and run.  No sense going down with a losing regime.  But the Schrute blood… It’s amazing that when these two bloods mix, the whole thing didn’t explode.”  Given that said types of blood create such a volatile concoction, Dwight’s existence suddenly makes sense.

Jim explains to the crew what’s going on in the dimly lit Stamford office, “At the Stamford branch, they all play this World War II video game called Call of Duty, and they’re all really into it.”  Cue footage of Andy and Karen having the time of their lives.  “I’m told it started as a team-building exercise.”  Looks like Josh and Michael do have something in common after all.  “Unfortunately I really suck at it,” he chuckles awkwardly as they show his avatar dying.

Jim’s not much of a ‘gamer’ in that he never grew up with the medium like his brothers.  He played Super Smash Bros. quite a few times at his friend Colin’s dorm room, but that’s about it.  He recalls when Mark gave him Call of Duty for his 27th birthday, but he hasn’t touched it; he let it collect dust on his desk back in his and Mark’s apartment and now has it stored in his bedroom closet.

“We didn’t play many video games in Scranton,” Jim continues, “Instead we’d do stuff like…” and here comes the nostalgia, “uh, Pam and I would sometimes hum the same high pitched note, and try to get Dwight to make an appointment with an ear doctor.  And uh, Pam called it… Pretendenitus.”  He looks down, shaking his head and smiling.

He misses that girl.

Soon after she’s stationed back at her desk, Pam signs off on a package, letting Kelly know over the phone.  “Hey Kelly, my stuff just got here.”  Kelly’s exuberance from the other line nearly burst her eardrum.

“Kelly really likes to online shop,” she explains to the crew, “So… I felt like I wanted some new clothes.  I mean, it’d be nice to just y’know,” she tries to elaborate, “feel more like… myself in the office.”  She doesn’t want to just be ‘herself’ for Jim anymore.  She wants to be for Pam as well.

She pulls out a brand new magenta-colored shirt.

Kelly gasps, “I love it!” she compliments (genuinely).

“Really?” Pam asks, hesitantly, “I don’t know.”

“You haven’t even tried it on yet, try it on!”

“Not at work, I’ll try it on-”

“Fashion show!” Kelly suggests, “Fashion show!  Fashion show at lunch!” she claps.

Really?  “…No,” she refuses quietly with a nervous smile.

“Fa-shion show!  Fa-shion show!  Fa-shion show at lunch!
Fa-shion show!  Fa-shion show!  Fa-shion show at lunch!”

Pam can’t help but laugh along with Kelly’s child-like enthusiasm.  As vain as she can be, she can also be really supportive.  Ah, what the hell?

Jim continues to play the game not correctly and Andy takes notice.  “Why did you do that?!” he snaps angrily at him.

“I’m just killing Germans, any way I can,” Jim responds, keeping his cool.

“We’re on the German team,” Andy confirms, Shoot the British.”

…Oh.  He turns to Karen, “Wait, are we playing teams?

She looks at him, “Yeah.”  Clueless.

The Schrute and Mannheim Bloods battle for control within Dwight as he sprints around the parking lot conflicted on how to proceed with Michael and his quest for power.

The Mannheim Blood wins the battle.  [“Hello?”] Jan asks over the phone.

“Is this Jan?” he asks breathlessly.

[“Who is this?”]

“This is Dwight.  Schrute.”  She sighs, not wanting to deal with him right after Michael.  “I am calling about an extremely sensitive matter—”

[“You should talk to Michael, and he’ll talk to me, and that way we don’t have to speak to each other.”]  Mostly because she doesn’t want to.

“It’s about Michael.”

[“What about him?”]

He breathes out, not knowing how to proceed.  “I can’t talk here,” he whispers, “It’s too sensitive.”

[“It’s not about a surprise party, is it?”]

“No, but we should discuss that another time.”  The sad part is that Michael already has it scheduled.

[“Look, I am already an hour outside of Scranton, Dwight, I’m not coming back.”]

“Pull over at Exit 40,” he asks of her, “There is a Liz Claiborne outlet.  I know you like that store.  Go inside and shop, until I can meet you.”

[“How do you know I like that store?”]  He has methods.

“Many of your blouses are Claiborne’s.”

[“How do you know that?”]

“Part of my job.”

[“No, it’s not.  It’s officially… not.”]

He’s slowly getting it.  “…Noted.”  He later walks to Michael’s office, claiming to go to the dentist; he doesn’t know when to stop.  “I have to have an emergency crown put in.”

“Ouchy.”

“Yes.  It’s a new dentist.  He’s far, I might be gone… three hours.”

“Three hours, wow.  Have fun.”  Dwight leaves, but not before staring him through his office blinds.  Nothing gets by Michael.

After a pleasant shopping spree, Jan meets Dwight at a restaurant in the outlet mall where he makes a promise, “I can save the branch.”

“Really?”

“If you let me run it.”

This conversation is risky at worse and downright laughable at best (mostly the latter).  But it gives her a chance to know how Michael works, and, in addition, the Scranton Branch as a whole.  Michael’s a blubbering idiot who thinks being a class clown is productive, and her ties with him just make all of this an uphill battle.  And now the top sales rep of his branch, one of the best of the company, is meeting her to discuss an operation to take Michael’s own office from him.  It’s as if a sitcom was being written in front of her very eyes.  And to make matters worse, there’re plenty of diligent employees in Scranton.

And one in particular who is reliant on her.

Best-case scenario, a merger with Stamford will happen, and she’ll be pushing for it; the last thing she wants to see is honest workers lose their jobs.  But this branch is deteriorating before her eyes, and she’s here to do her own job.  A job she’s constantly put first above all else… including her own well-being.  A job that just might include shutting down the whole damn branch.

The moment she tried to step out of that job and start something with Michael, she got hurt; it’s a mistake she is not going to repeat.  She’s not making any more mistakes because of him or anyone else.

She’s made too many mistakes already.

At the very least she can have a good laugh, which is why she’s willing to hear him out.  “Okay.”

“Okay, I can run it?”  He anticipates his own best-case scenario.

This is stupid, but she is curious, “What would you do differently?” she asks methodically.

“Mostly get rid of waste,” he says, “Which is half the people there.  And clean house.”  He is then given his lunch, three plates worth of breakfast food.

“Dwight, you must feel… strongly, to speak with me this way, behind Michael’s back, and turn on so many of your co-workers.”  Despite how crazy the man is, she’s intrigued as to how this conversation even happened.

“The decision to turn on Michael was difficult,” he admits as he drowns his food in maple syrup, “But once I did it, I didn’t look back.  And mostly I feel that Michael would approve.”  Would he?  “It’s really what’s best for the branch.”  Is it?  “And I could care less about my co-workers.”  That’s a straight-up lie.  “So… here we are.  It’s all, on the table,” he aggressively cuts his waffles, “I want… the branch.  And I await your decision.”

As she sips her coffee and he shovels food into his mouth, he tells her about a new Anne Taylor store nearby; she likes their earrings.

[“Michael,”] Jan later addresses him over the phone.

He strolls around his office, “Hi.”

[“I just had a very interesting conversation with one of your employees.”]

“Oh,” he reacts happily, “That’s nice.”

[“No, it wasn’t,”] she tells him outright, [“Dwight just told me that he thinks he can run the branch better than you.”]

This gives Michael pause, “…What?”

[“Mm-hmm.”]

Dwight wants to run the branch?  Dwight.  Really?  No.  No.  He’s too much of an idiot.  He’s a kiss-ass.  He’s annoying and stubborn and just… ech.  And Michael, with all of his flaws, even he can see that Dwight’s not fit.

Michael has several choices.  First, Ryan, because he is a new and improved Michael Scott and his protégé.  His second would be Jim (God rest his soul), but even then he does work half the time it takes Michael, and he doesn’t understand how that could work.  Third, Stanley, because Michael believes that African Americans should advance alongside their white counterparts.

Dwight is fourth.  At the highest.

“…You were at the dentist—?”

[“You can’t have people undermining you,”] she emphasizes, [“Get control of your branch immediately.”]

“Okay.”

“What was Dwight thinking?” he asks the crew, “That he could turn Jan against me?  She’s my ex-lover!…ish.”  If that’s what you call that dynamic.

Pam shows off her blouse to Meredith, Phyllis, and a supportive Kelly, all three of them surprised by how good she looks.

“Wooow” Meredith compliments.

“It is so sexy,” Kelly says, uncharacteristically supportive, “You look so hot.”

“It’s really something,” a cheerful Phyllis adds.

Pam is feeling better about this, about trying to be more her.  If Jim were here, she’d be the most beautiful woman in the office, because he has this way of making her feel that way, even when they don’t even act like a couple around each other.  But now… even with the support of her coworkers, she still doesn’t feel like herself quite yet.  It’s something she still needs to get over.  “…It’s too much.”

Kelly’s puzzled, “What?  I—”
“I’m gonna return it.”
“No, you have to keep it today, just see how you feel.”  Hear Kelly out, Pam, she’s right.

And in walks… Roy, from the breakroom.  “Hey.”

Oh, God.

She’s face-to-face with the guy that made her feel like she didn’t need to improve, that she didn’t need to strive for more than what she was… all those little insecurities.  The very insecurities that Jim is slowly and lovingly trying to break down.  Roy never called her a whore or anything, that was Angela’s job.  But there was this sense of her needing to look plain, unassuming, undesirable.  To avoid anything awkward.  To avoid another jealous tirade.  Her outfits and demeanor were a shield.

And the shield’s been dropped.

And she can tell he’s trying.  He’s always trying.  He’s been trying since mid-June.  And it’s not that he can’t change, because he has.  She’s afraid there’ll be a relapse.  The moment they become close again, he’ll immediately turn from a guy pushing 30 to a 17-year-old boy.

With all these running thoughts, all she can bring herself to say is “…Hi.”

He tries to find the right words.  “Y-you look nice.”

She expected that but at least it feels good to hear.  “Thanks.”  But… she’s tired of seeing him try, of trying to pick up the pieces of something that’ll never fit back together.  She’s so damn tired of running into him and making her feel awkwa—

“Isn’t that like your third soda today?”

Kelly Kapoor of all people makes Pam feel better by insulting her ex.  She is the Business Bitch, after all.

Intimidated, he walks off.

After lunch and two hours of actual work, the light dim yet again.

“Again?” Jim asks Karen.

“Scared?” she teases.

Karen is a go-getter.  She’ll take on any challenge thrown at her, and she motivates herself to not only beat it but excel at it, no matter what it is or how long it takes.  People often don’t see her value in Stamford, especially Josh, who constantly plays favorites.  She’s only now warming up to Jim because he’s a good guy: very funny, sweet, and “adorkable” (the best term to describe him, actually).  But the amount of special treatment Josh gives him is eye-rolling.  And sure, she’s happy for Jim and the guy knows his stuff, but she’s tired of getting stunted.  Ignored.  Belittled.  And she’s determined to show just how capable she is.

But this determination is, ironically, a downfall of sorts.  She’s not one to turn back from any challenge, even the ones she doesn’t even have an interest in.  Something as simple as a video game becomes a fight to win.  She can take it too far but not because of others, but rather herself.  To her, going through obstacles that can hurt rather than help is better than giving up.  She fears that walking away makes her weak.

But walking away can make one strong, as well.

She’s thankful for the challenges that she’s both beaten and excels at, primarily her skill in sales and
m/ “Call of Dutyyy!” m/

Josh, aggravation evident in his face, summons Andy and Jim to the conference room; the game needs to be put on hold.

“This is not working, okay?” Josh says as if he was leading an honest-to-God infantry, “We are getting slaughtered out there.”

Andy knows exactly who to blame, “It’s the new guy.”

What?  “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t know… what we’re talking about.”

“See what I mean?”  Just cut me some slack, man.

“We just need a strategy, okay?” Josh says, “We’re going to set up a trap in the gun room.  All right, Jim, are you using the MP-40 or the 44?”

“Um… sniper rifle?”

“SNIPE—”
“WHAT?”
“JIM!”
“Are you playing for the other team?!”
“You don’t snipe in Carrington, okay?”
“Saboteur!  Saboteur!”
“Andy, it’s not—”
“I’m going to kill you for real.  This game— the game is over.  I’m really going to shoot you.”

Jim looks at the camera, taking Andy’s legitimate threat of murder in stride.

… He can’t help but be a little frightened.  A little.

Dwight re-enters the office, Michael perched at the corner of Ryan’s desk (as he often does), who has a question for him.

“Hey, Dwight?”

“Hey.”

“Do you wanna M&M?”

Dwight eats it, and then he’s offered several more.

Then Michael goes for the kill, “Hey, I thought you weren’t supposed to eat anything for a couple hours after you’ve had a crown put in.”

Dwight’s scrambling and Michael knows it.  He has to think of something.  “…They have this new kind of quick-drying bonding, so…”  Yeah, that’ll work.

“Sounds like a good dentist.”
“Oh, yeah.”

“…What’s his name?”

He’s scrambling again.  Something else.  “…Crentist.”  Yeah, that’ll work.

Even Michael doesn’t buy it.  “Your dentist’s name is Crentist.”

“Yep.”

“Huh,” he ‘ponders’, “Sounds a lot like dentist.”

“Maybe that’s why he became a dentist.”  Convenient.

Michael wants to see Dwight’s teeth, analyzing them.  There are some crowns in his teeth.

He needs to floss.

Michael’s just glad he’s okay… as he contemplates how to get him to talk.

“Business is like a jungle,” Michael explains to the crew, “And I… am like a tiger.  And Dwight is like a monkey that stabs the tiger in the back with a stick.”  Apt.  “Does the tiger fire the monkey?  Does the tiger transfer the monkey to another branch?”  He grins briefly when he realizes he just made a pun, but then he sighs.  “There is no way of knowing what goes on inside the tiger’s head.  We don’t have the technology.”

Michael then has a… surprisingly good idea.  Pretend that Jan demoted him (which, to be honest, is not beyond the realm of possibility), and inform Dwight that he’s been promoted.  Michael’s not the best actor (watch Threat Level Midnight for evidence of that), but it’s a good enough performance for Dwight to buy it.  Michael then makes an even smarter play by emphasizing Dwight’s unwavering loyalty… making him feel guilty.

People should estimate Michael more often.

Everyone reacts accordingly.  Stanley questions the decision.  Ryan cares less than he already did.  Kevin’s worried about Michael since he might lose his condo if he quits.  Pam has a broken vacuum cleaner that can replace Dwight as manager if things don’t work out.  Phyllis is tempted to quit.

“I love you.”

Those words… they punch me in the gut.  In a good way.  I don’t know how that’s possible, but that’s what happened.

I move my head from Pam’s shoulder, and she does the same, so I can look into her eyes.

“…Did you just say—?”

“Yes,” she interrupts, “I love you, Jim.”

Her kind, green eyes, her beautiful, loving smile, her flowing, auburn hair… she has never looked more beautiful than this moment.  This funny, warm, kind, amazing woman — perched on my lap, in my arms, the happiest she’s ever been despite her tears — just said she loves me.

Pam Beesly loves me.

I don’t know how else to respond but pull her into a deep kiss, which she gladly reciprocates as she wraps her arms around my neck, my arms around her middle.  I always imagined this moment, but my imagination could never do this justice.

This is far beyond what Casino Night could ever be.

We separate, foreheads touching, as I softly say, “I love you, Pam,” while wearing the stupidest grin, “I always have.”  I can tell she’s being honest, but I just… I need to know, “Honestly?  You really love me?”

With another kiss, she goes, “Yes, I really, honestly, love you.”

That stupid grin is permanently stuck on my face.  “So… are we doing this?”

“Doing what?” she asks.

“You know, ‘going steady’.”

She snickers, “Okay, first off, nobody says that anymore,” she jokingly points out, “And secondly, the two of us crying in each other’s arms and professing our love wasn’t enough of an indication for you?”

“I just like to double-check,” I say with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes, “Shut up and kiss me.”

“Gladly.”

We kiss once again and just full-on make out like a couple of lovesick teenagers, repeating “I love you” and other sweet nothings over and over.  There’s a part of me that wants us to do more, you know, more, but now’s not the time.  This is enough and this is perfect.  Everything is perfect.

We break apart after a few minutes, breaths heavy and lips sore.  She pauses, “Um, I need to confess something.”

“What is it?”

“I brought an overnight bag over here with me.”  Oh my God, she wants to spend the night with me?  “I mean, I know that’s forward of me and extremely awkward, I just wanted to spend the weekend with you if we actually got together and—”

I calm her frazzled nerves with a kiss on the forehead.  “Go get it.”

Her smile widens as she gets off of me, grabs her keys, and walks to her car.

As she walks out the door, I sit up and give myself a minute to take in everything that’s happened.

Pam Beesly loves me.
She broke up with Roy.
She’s moved on and she’s happy.
Neither of us has to hold back anymore.
She drove to Stamford to see… oh, shit.

I live in Stamford now.  And she lives in Scranton.

I’m a goddamn idiot.

As she enters in with her stuff, she notices me rubbing my head with my hand as I try to figure out what to do.  “What’s wrong?” she asks as she sets her stuff down and sits next to me.

“I… I live in Stamford.”

She realizes the weight of my words as she sits next to me and repeats, “You live in Stamford.”  She rubs my back for comfort, trying to figure this out herself.

I sigh dejectedly, “What are we gonna do, Pam?”  I’ve never been more desperate.

She purses her lips and then thinks of something: “Pros and Cons list.  Get a notepad.”

Damn, I shoulda thought of that first. “And that’s why you’re the brains of the relationship.”

“So I guess that makes you the brawn?”

“I was gonna say beauty,” I joke as I get up, “but I guess I could be both.”

As she rolls her eyes at me, I go into my room, grab a notepad and marker, and just jot everything down.

• no Dwight
• better pay and benefits
• possibility of getting demoted (having to regain clients)
• less chaotic work environment
• add to resume to get a marketing job (preferably sports)
• work ass off to leave DM
• make a better life for us myself
• can always find a way to get Pam here
• long-distance relationship (temporary)

• PAM
• no Andy
• entertaining conference room ‘meetings’
• more opportunities even if demoted
• no struggles of long-distance relationship
• PAM (again)

As we both look at the list, she pays close attention to the last three points on the Stamford column.  It makes her eyes water.  “You… you’re really thinking about this long-term, aren’t you?”

I’m immediately embarrassed, “Yeah, I… I know that’s extremely weird considering we’ve been together for all of… y’know, 15 minutes, I just—”  She silences me with her lips, and cups my cheeks when she pulls apart.

“You gotta pen on you?” she asks, “Because here or not, you’re mine, Halpert.  And we’re gonna make sure of it.”

I just shake my head, surprised (and slightly turned on), “Wow, aren’t you Miss ‘Fancy New Beesly’?”

God, I missed that giggle, “Not the catchiest title, but I’ll take it.”

“It’s better than the one I have in Stamford.”

“What is it?”  She’s all too eager to know.

“Oh, there’s a story behind it.”

“Well tell me!”

“Not yet, but I can assure you it’ll not be worth it.”

• No living together until engaged
• no financial help until living together (unless for small things)
• 1-year plan MINIMUM Agreed
• Trust Is Key amen
• don’t contact ALL the time We’ll make a schedule later cool
• list of people who can know about us: Family, close friends
• list of people who can not know yet: doc crew (they’ll find out eventually) Yeah…
• list of people who will NEVER know:
• DM Corporate
• ROY (FUCK no)
• DM Stamford
• DM Scranton
• DM in general
• MICHAEL SCOTT (He’ll find out eventually) yeah…

• Frequent visits
• Local restaurants
• Learn local Art + History cuz you’re so cultured Screw off
• METHOD: Pam finds a stable job in Stamford + can afford cheap apt within price range after art classes
  • 2 semesters: Fall ’06 + Spring ’07 (Also stupid cheap)
  • after all that, world-famous artist :’)
• MIRACLE: possible merger in Stamford (Pam gets better paying job in DM Stamford, then artist)
• Admin Assistant, maybe?

• Philadelphia? Hm, interesting
• New York? too long a game plan
• Schrute Farms? told you I don’t like that joke :p
• METHOD: Philly — Use Johnathan’s connections to help us find stable jobs
• MIRACLE: Schrute Farms — Getting hired to help Mose shovel manure Beesly I swear to god XD

• METHOD: beg for a demotion, essentially
• move back w/ Mark or new apt
• go back to DM Scranton That’d suck eh, won’t be so bad… now <3
• GODLY MIRACLE: (im)possible merger in Scranton (I keep promotion, all hell breaks loose) Honestly one of the better options here agreed

• Phone/IM communication becomes difficult: Handwritten letters oh, neat
• Arguments: Give ourselves time to cool off before we talk it out agreed
• DM Scranton branch closes: merger w/ Stamford or elsewhere, transfer if elsewhere
• If no merger, I move w/ parents, Penny, or Izzy ‘til I’m back on my feet WORST-CASE SCENARIO
• Someone from DM Corporate finds out: fill out EVERY form we need to
• Consult with HR
• Ask to Maintain Privacy YES, that too
• Roy finds out: He’ll just have to deal with it
• Doc crew finds out: tell them we’re not *wanting* to tell anybody yet They’ve kept bigger secrets before
• DM Scranton finds out: let ’em talk, who cares? Fair point
• Michael finds out: run to Puerto Rico, only contact him through yearly postcards XD

I just stare at all this for a sec, taking it all in, wondering how any of this is going to pan out… and scared.  Scared that this will all fall apart and… ah fuck it, I’ll just add it to the Pitfall list:

• Jim desperately wants to return to Scranton:

She just looks at me and, while grabbing onto my hand, then writes her response.

Don’t give up, Jim <3

I just shake my head, “I dunno.”

Dammit, she’s disappointed.  But why?  “Jim—”

“Look, I’ll be fine,” I reassure, “I can y’know, regain clients, get new leads—”

“Jim,” she stops me, “I know that long-distance is gonna be difficult.  For the both of us,” she grips my hand tighter, her confidence somehow cooling me down, “but… I think we can make it work.  You want out of Dunder Mifflin and a better life, and you working here is gonna give you more opportunities.  And…” she pauses, “the last thing I wanna do is hold you back.”

“Hold me back?” I look at her like she’s insane, “Pam—”

“I know that sounds ridiculous, and I know why you accepted the job, but… I just got out of a relationship where I’ve constantly been discouraged from pursuing something more.  I’ve had enough of it, and I’m not doing that to anyone else, especially not you.  You’ve earned this, Jim.  You’re so smart and confident and charming… this is only gonna help, not hurt.”

I sigh, “I have to admit, the benefits are hard to give up,” I hold her hand tighter, “But what about you?  I just got you, Pam, I don’t want to go on without seeing you.”

“You’re not,” she reassures, squeezing my hand in return, “We have Skype and AOL, we’ll call and text all the time,” she gestures to the notepad, “we’ll make our own schedule.  And we’ll figure out a way to live in the same city.  And don’t think I’m not driving here to see you; I have extra money after we split the funds for the wedding.”  Wow, the wedding got shut down that quickly.  “Besides, we won’t be doing all of this forever.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing.  This isn’t the Pam Beesly I’m used to, but I don’t love her any less.  In fact, I love her more now, which is the equivalent of adding numbers to infinity.

And, for a split second, I’m back on the boat.
“Never, ever, ever give up.”

I let out a sigh, my mind made up.  “Okay.  I’m willing to stay here for the time being.  For both of us,” I repeat, “It’s just… I need this to work.”

Hearing the hesitation in my voice, she reaches over and gives me another kiss.  “Jim… if I didn’t need this to work, I wouldn’t have called you in the middle of the night and driven three hours after work just to talk to you.  I wouldn’t have told you the truth about how I felt.  I would’ve pushed you away the moment you tried to kiss me and then claimed that I was drunk.  I would’ve married Roy.”  That last bit gets to her, so I let go of her hand and instead wrap my arm around her shoulders.  She happily scooches closer and, finally, relaxes.  “You’re my best friend and my partner in crime.  I’ve been hiding the truth from you for six years.  No more.  You’re stuck with me, Halpert.”

“And thank God for that,” I respond as I bring her closer to me and touch my lips with hers.

She kisses me back, like she did that night.  “I know you’re scared, and I’m scared too, petrified even,” she admits, “And if it gets too much for either of us and you come back to Scranton, that’s fine, we’d be lucky to have you.  But no matter what, we’re gonna be okay.”

I bring her closer to me, “You’re right.  But can we not discuss it anymore?”

“Let’s not,” she agrees, “This weekend, it’s just you and me.”  She leans into me and holds my middle as I wrap my arms around her and kiss the top of her head.

“You and me.”

After all that brainstorming I decide to whip us both some of my signature grilled ham and cheeses.  Don’t mean to brag, but they’re the best.  Pam doesn’t eat too much of it, but she mentioned how it’s a refreshing meal after fast food.  After that, we talk through everything and let it all go; neither of us needs all of that in our lives anymore.  It’s tough, but more than worth it.  We sit back on the couch and watch some shows I TiVoed; I’m paying more attention to her than I am on the screen, stealing kisses and making her giggle.  As we relax together, I realize I somehow need to get over all the shit I’ve pulled because, by some miracle of God, it led to this.

Thanks again, Michael.

3.04 “Grief Counseling”

It’s the night after the convention.  A cameraperson is stationed in the hallway, hidden behind a plant.  They’re filming right outside Jim’s room from an angle; now that they know, they want a story.

Jan sleepily walks to get ice as she passes Jim’s room.

The door’s cracked, unbeknownst to Jim.

“There’s a wrong amount?”

|“You know what I mean.”|

“No, no I don’t.”

Jan doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but she recognizes a voice.  A female one.

Pam Beesly’s.

It’s faint, she’s not there in person.  But Jan can tell it’s her.  She stops, all too curious.

|“Anyway, my favorite thing about him is… he’s always there for me.  Like, even though he’s not here, he’s always there.  You get it, right?”|

“I do, yeah.”

Jan just stands there, secrets slowly revealing themselves to her.  The camera zooms in on her absorbing all of this and processing it.

|“He’s willing to work out of state so that we… we can both pursue what we wanna do.  And do them together one day.  And that just goes to show how much he loves me.”|

Pam’s talking about another guy.  But, unlike Michael or even Josh, Jan can connect the dots.

“Um, actually I-I ran into him, earlier, at the convention.”

|“Yeah?”|

Naturally, the editors added this clip as well.

“Have you given any more thought to the transfer?”

“Oh.  Yeah.”

“Good.  Have you told anyone?”

“No.”
“Well, you should.”

As the couple’s conversation finishes, Jan walks away hurriedly to get her ice.

She now knows.

“Hey, Ryan,” Michael signals, carrying the last of 12 boxes of paper, “Can I get you a pencil from the warehouse?”

“Uh, no thanks, I’m good,” Ryan replies plainly.

“Oh, it’s okay, I’m going down.”

“Oh.”  Yup, it’s this bit.  “Um… Yeah, absolutely.”

“All right, I’ll be right back.”  He goes down the stairs and— wait… there weren’t stairs there before, so how is he doing it?  It’s like they magically came into existence!  Amazing!

Dwight is howling with laughter.  The others find it mildly amusing.

Michael walks back up the stairs that weren’t there before, “There you go.”

“Whoo!” Dwight shouts, “Awesome!”

“Thank you,” Ryan responds plainly.

“You’re welcome,” Michael cordially replies.

“Michael,” Dwight asks enthusiastically, “can you get me a pen from down in the warehouse?”

“Don’t mind if I do!  See you in a minute.”  He goes back down to the warehouse and grabs a pen which was also somehow on Stanley’s desk.  Dwight is quite appreciative.

Pam has a specific request, “Hey Michael,” she asks, “would you get me some coffee from the warehouse?”

Michael’s not sure how to proceed, “There’s coffee in the kitchen, Pam.”

“But the warehouse coffee tastes so much better.”  The others agree; they want to see how this goes.  He manages to get to the warehouse kitchen, grabs the warehouse coffee mug, pours the warehouse coffee in, and walks back up the stairs.  And he finally comes back with the co

“With cream and sugar?”

And back down to the warehouse.

“I am like Bette Midler in For the Boys,” Michael tells the doc crew, “Gotta keep the troops entertained.”

Loss can grab ahold of you and impact you in ways you won’t expect.

Jan calls Michael with some unfortunate news.  [“So, I wanted to let you know that we lost Ed Truck.”]

“O…kay,” Michael responds, not getting it, “Let me see if I have his cell.  Is this the only reason you are calling, Jan?  Or does somebody miss me?”

[“Michael, Ed Truck died over the weekend.”]

For once in his life, he can’t find the words.  “Oh, wow.  He…”

[“Yeah,”] she tells him, genuinely sympathetic, [“And I know… I know he was your boss, so I thought you should know.”]

“Does his family know?”

[“…Yes, they know, Michael.”]

“But I’m the first in the office?”

[“I guess, yes,”] she finds a way to help him cope, [“I think it would be appropriate for you to make an announcement to your team, in case they want to pay their respects.”]

He’s still taking it in, “Okay, yes, sure, I will do that…”

[“Good.”]

“’Cause I’m the first to find out.”  Yup.  “Nobody else knows and it is my responsibility to tell them.”  Indeed.  “Well, good.  How are you holding up?  Want me to come over?”

She hangs up.

“Ed Truck died,” he repeats to the crew, “And it blows.  They say that with grief, time makes it worse, which is bad for me because I found out before anybody so I’ve had more time to be sad.”

At Stamford, Jim walks quietly into Josh’s office, “Heyyy Josh.”

“Oh, Jim!”

“Yeah, can I uh, talk to you about something?”

“Sure.”

Jim sighs, slowly closing the door, giving a grimace to the camera as he does so.

“Last week, someone from corporate told me in a roundabout way that she discovered Pam and I are together.”  He cringes, and sighs out.  “And now we’ll probably need to talk to our CFO about it because this is Dunder Mifflin.  Thankfully, Josh and our HR guy are fine with it, we had the talk, we’re good there, but we would like to avoid an inevitable talk with a certain someone… a certain former employer of mine.”  He purses his lips knowingly.  As if it wasn’t obvious.

“I still wanted to keep Toby informed in case we needed to fill out anything else;” Pam explains to the Scranton crew, “he’s pretty much the only person I can trust in the office with this.  Legally, Michael is supposed to be aware… but every single email Michael gets from Toby goes straight to his recycling bin, so that’s convenient,” she shrugs, “It was hard discussing it with Toby, though.”

Cue footage from last week where she asked about it to Toby, purposefully during Kelly’s lunch break, “we just wanted to know any other company policies that we need to be aware of—”

Toby gently interrupted, “Oh well, y’know, those are only for, y’know… ‘relationships’” he air quotes, “so… i-if this is just a casual thing, there’s… no need, really.”

“Oh,” she paused, “Well, I don’t wanna speak for Jim, but, it’s like pretty official,” she informs, thinking about him.

“Uh-huh.”

A beat.  “So is there anything else, or…?”

“L-let’s just wait and… see what happens,” he ended with a whisper, “y’know?”

Pam pursed her lips.

“It took me 3 more minutes,” she tells the crew in the present.

Later, Michael announces the death of Ed to his coworkers, and reactions are mixed.  Kelly comforts him, Phyllis says he was a good guy, Creed worked with him (he doesn’t remember), and Ryan’s just annoyed he’s making a big show again.  Michael slums back into his office so his other coworkers can comfort him.

No one gets up.

He tries to talk to Pam about it, who was there when it was announced.  A ‘depressed’ Michael needs a hug, which she gives him.  It’s a little too long.

Karen, making the mistake of not getting a price list generated, is embarrassed by Josh; Jim is told to make sure it’s done.  She just rolls her eyes at this.  She needs another sales rep to make sure she does her own damn job?  She’s only flubbed once after years of working here.  And yet Andy still works here.  Josh is either misogynistic or plays favorites.  Most likely both.

“*cough* Suck-up! *cough*”, Andy ‘coughs’, pointing at Jim, “Josh, did you hear what I said?”  Oh, screw off.

The vending machine turns Karen’s day from bad to worse.  “Dammit.”

Jim couldn’t help but overhear, walking by.  “What’s up?”

“Uh, nothing.  They’re just out of Herr’s chips.”

“Oh.”

“But don’t worry about it.  My snack food doesn’t fall under the umbrella of your authority.”  Now my one friend in this office is pissed at me.  Excellent.

He decides to brighten her day because hell, his can’t get any worse, “Well, as your project supervisor today, I have just decided that you require your desired snack food, and I offer you my assistance.”

She can see what he’s doing, so she rolls her eyes playfully, unable to hide her smile, “Well, I can assure you that I will be just as productive with or without my snack food,” the smile widens, “But your offer is certainly appreciated.”  He smiles back as she walks off.

Pam coined the phrase ‘Halpert charm’.  He doesn’t consider himself the most handsome guy; sure one may consider him conventionally attractive, but in his mind, he’s a tall, lanky dork.  Pam makes him feel like the only guy in the room, and that’s all he really cares about, but the one thing he has going for him is that he can charm one’s socks off.  There’s a reason he’s one of the top salespeople in the company, and it’s not because of his looks.

But ‘the charm’ comes with a price, two actually: 1) He’s usually unaware of its effects, and 2) He doesn’t know when to turn it off.

And adding on to the list of Jim’s “This day kinda sucks” list, Hannah Smoterich-Barr from Accounting signals him to her, “Hey Jimmy,” she greets happily, “Want to see some pictures of my baby?”

“Umm… sure.”  Alright, a cute baby.  Happy thoughts.

The proud mama shows off her precious little boy, “Here he is.”

“Aw,” Jim chuckles, “He’s so cute.”

“And here’s his first bath,” she says, “Warning: contains nudity.”

“That’s okay.”  Oh, no, it’s not.  “I’m sorry, is that your husband in the tub with him?”

She suddenly becomes offended, “You think we should have left our baby in the tub alone?”  He just shakes his head.  “Talk to me when you have kids,” she abruptly ends the conversation, storming off in a huff.

“Sounds good,” he responds.  I will never let you near my kids.

Creed is the first one to show up to Michael’s office, knowing the truth about Ed, “It’s a real shame about Ed, huh?”

“Yeah,” Michael comments, “Must really have you thinkin’.”

“About what?”

“The older you get, the bigger the chance is you’re gonna die.  You knew that.”  That’s what age is.

“Ed was decapitated.”

Creed’s announcement is so pointedly presented that it throws Michael and Dwight off.
“What?”
“Really?”

“He was drunk as a skunk, he was flying down Route 6.  He slides under an 18 wheeler.  Pop, it snaps right off.”  Damn.

Michael can’t believe this.  Who knew life could be this short?  That life could be taken this quickly?  Never having the chance to marry.  Have kids.  Build a family.

Dwight offers a different perspective, “That is the way to go.  Instant death, very smart.”

“You know a human can go on living for several hours after being decapitated,” Creed states with confidence.

“You’re thinking of a chicken.”

“What did I say?”

Michael reflects on this to the crew, “That is just not the way a Dunder Mifflin manager should go, I’m sorry.  Alone, out of the blue, and not even have his own head to comfort him.”  Indeed, Michael.

So he (or rather Dwight, because Michael didn’t know how to put it), announces Ed’s decapitation.  As such, he wants all his workers to clear their schedules since a grief counselor will arrive to make sure they know how sad this is.  (One off-color joke from Kevin results in him being called ‘disgusting’ by Michael.)  Dwight astutely points out that they technically already have a grief counselor, Toby.

“No, that can’t be right,” Michael argues.

“Well, I am trained in… grief counseling, but uh… I don’t think that’s what they need right now,” Toby quietly points out, being correct as usual.

“Well, then I guess that makes you about the worst grief counselor in the world, doesn’t it?”  Toby just takes it.  He’s used to it.

Afterward, the Office Love Affair congregates near the vending machines once again.  “Hey,” he greets.

“Hi,” Angela responds.

“If my head ever comes off, I would like you to put it on ice.”

“I do not wanna talk about this.”  The rational response.

“When I die, I wanna be frozen,” Dwight explains to the crew, “And if they have to freeze me in pieces, so be it.  I will wake up stronger than ever because I will have used that time to figure out exactly why I died and what moves I could have used to defend myself better now that I know what hold he had me in.”

Michael doesn’t get it.  MLK has a whole day, yet he didn’t even work here.  Jan tries… so damn hard to get through to him, but to no avail; when she suggests the day off, he refutes it.  He decides on a statue for Ed, then — thanks to Dwight’s comments — a robot.  Has to be 2⁄3 the size, easier to defeat if it turns on the office.

[“What the hell are you two talking about?”] she asks, rightfully impatient.  She has to get to a meeting.

For them.

“Well, we are talking about how to properly honor a man who gave his life as regional manager of this company, Jan.”

Jan’s just… done.  [“You know what, Michael?  I’ve really tried with you today”]
“Mm-hm.”
[“and I have to get to a meeting.”]
“Oh, do you?”
[“So, um”]
“You know who wished they could get to a meeting”
[“I—”]
“is Ed Truck.”
[“So call me when”]
“But Ed Truck can’t”
[“you feel like having”]
“because he is…”
[“a real conversation, goodbye.”]
“DEAD.”
*click*

Meanwhile, Dwight gave the robot Ed Truck a six-foot extension cord so it’ll be unable to chase them.  Michael agrees that’s perfect.

“Anything?” Pam asks Jim from the stairwell on his way back from lunch.

[“Nope.”]  She exhales nervously.  [“Hey, you know we’ll be fine, no matter what happens.”]

“I know… I mean, with this and Michael dealing with Ed, I just wanna go home and sleep.”

[“Well, I’m almost there.  We’ll talk after work.”]

“Cool.”

[“Love you,”] he says sweetly.

“Love you, too,” she returns, just as sweet.

[“Bye.”]
“Bye.”

Jim re-enters the Stamford office, Karen’s snack food in-hand, which he tosses to her.  “Last one they had at the West Side Market.”

She catches them.  “You really didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs as he sits back down, “Well, I did say you required your desired snack food.  I just offered my assistance,” he happily informs, turning back to his computer.

She’s happy she has her chips as she opens the bag.

Very happy.

Andy looks at the pair, an inquisitive look on his face.

“There is def somethin’ goin’ on between Karen and Tuna,” Andy confirms to the crew, “I mean, why else would Josh pick him to be her project supervisor?  …wait.  Jim.  Karen.  J, K.”  He grins and points to the camera in front of him, making a shocking revelation.

Michael’s quite aggressive grieving causes spit to get on Stanley’s face and everyone else to lose patience.  But there’s something wrong with them, because they have lost a member of their family, and all they could think about is work!

Toby, ever the loyal and whimpering HR, decides to take the reins.  Naturally, his advice is sound, he conducts himself well, and he’s available for any questions.  To no ones’ surprise, he is refuted and belittled at every single opportunity by Michael, who wants everyone in that room to understand that they are sad!

“There are five stages to grief,” Michael explains to the crew, “which are… ‘denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance’.  And right now, out there, they’re all denying the fact that they’re sad.”  Yeah, that’s it.  “And that’s… hard.  And it’s making them all angry.”  Yeah, that’s it.  “And it is my job to try to get them all the way through to acceptance.  And if not acceptance, then just depression.  If I can get them depressed, then I’ll have done my job.”  Convenient, he excels at his job.

Later, he’s in the conference room, ready for his exercise, “I am going to throw you this ball,” Michael begins to everyone in the conference room, “When you catch the ball, I want you to say the name of a person very important to you, somebody really special who died, and then I want you to say how they died… and you may cry if you like, that is encouraged.  Let me just start.  Let me show you how this works.  I catch the ball.”

Everyone else just wants to get back to work.

Michael begins his soliloquy, “I lost Ed Truck.  And… it feels like somebody took my heart and dropped it into a bucket of boiling tears,”  Stanley’s bored already.  “…and at the same time, somebody else is hitting my soul in the crotch with a frozen sledgehammer… and then a third guy walks in and starts punching me in the grief bone,”  Dwight can feel this in his soul.  “and I’m crying, and nobody can hear me, because I am terribly, terribly… terribly alone.”

Whoa.

Pam looks at him… tempted to cry herself.  She knows how pointlessly over-the-top he’s acting right now, but she just can’t help but understand where he’s coming from.  Because fate doesn’t have a moral compass.  It does not empathize or care how you feel.  And it’s unyielding.  Death could come at any moment, be it life… or love.

Or rather a love that never was.

The past 4+ months with Jim are beyond anything that the past nine years with Roy were.  But Jim knows how Roy has influenced her life.  Jim doesn’t understand, nor claims to, which is why he’s been patient.  He also admires Roy for trying… but is getting antsy because Roy is trying.  Jim knows nothing will come out of it, because he trusts Pam — who, in no uncertain terms, will never make that mistake again — but for her, there’s still loss involved.  And him trying is only making things harder.  She’s loving and forgiving, which is why she has to control how she approaches him.  Seeing through him is difficult, but if she was honest, it’s getting easier by the day.

Given Jim and Pam’s current situation with the company, Roy is the last thing on either of their minds.  But while she’s okay and has moved on, he hasn’t.  And as badly as she wants to spare his feelings, that shouldn’t be her responsibility.

Ed Truck is no longer a part of Michael Scott’s life.  And he needs to accept that his life will go on without him.

Pam Beesly is no longer a part of Roy Anderson’s life.  And he needs to accept that his life will go on without her.

Yes, she truly understands where Michael’s coming from.

And in walks… Roy.  “Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt, uh, I need to see Pam,” he says to Michael, “There seems to be, like, something wrong with the radiator in her car.”

Michael buys it, “…Okay, fine.  Hurry back.”

Though she doesn’t want to leave (which is saying something), Pam gets up with him to see if there’s anything wrong with her car.  He might just be telling the truth.

“There’s nothing wrong with your car.”  Of course, there isn’t.  “I just thought you might like a break from the ‘grief counseling’ session.”

Pam grabs her coat and considers it.  “Well, a break does sound nice.”

Roy decides to check out her new car, bought with the wedding money.  “How are you likin’ the new car?”

She nods politely, genuinely smiling, “Great.”

“Yeah?” he looks around, “Sure is small.  Got airbags?”

“I think so,” she doesn’t remember, “I don’t know, I was mainly focused on the cup holders.”

He chuckles, “Well, you’re not still driving so fast, are you?  Yeah.”  Her genuine smile becomes a forced one.  Even with how hard he’s trying, it always goes back to something from their past.  It’s innocuous and pointless enough, because yeah, she does drive fast.  Still.  But he doesn’t need to remind her.

This isn’t helping his case.  I called off the wedding.  It’s over.  It’s been over.  For months.  So why hasn’t he picked up on that yet?

The impact is lessening and the grip is loosening.

Jim’s once again in the breakroom, checking his cell phone for an upcoming conversation with David Wallace.

“Thanks again for the chips by the way,” Karen tells him as he walks in.

“Sure, thing,” he responds.

She doesn’t know what it is about him that draws her to him.  Maybe his confidence?  His sense of humor?  Hell, his height?  She’s not sure.  But she honestly thinks there’s some sort of connection here.  So she might as well go for it.

She’s always up for a challenge.

“Hey, I was thinking… you want to grab a coffee or something after work?”

He attempts to hide his eyes widening.  His day just got worse.

He forgot about the ‘Halpert charm’s’ effects again.  And he also forgot to turn it off.

Let’s recap: I’m probably gonna get chewed out by my boss for dating Pam, my former boss just got decapitated, Michael is pouring all his insecurities onto everyone else because of it, and the closest friend I have in this office just asked me out.  All of this on top of seeing a dude bare-ass naked.

So he just does what he always does: attempt to ease the situation with very select words.  “Oh!  Um… tonight, actually?  No.  I actually have plans, tonight.”
“Oh yeah, no problem, just… whenever.”
“Okay.”

“Oh-kayy,” Andy arrives, as if on cue.  “Sorry to interrupt.  I…”

“Nope.  You’re not interrupting anything.”  Karen’s face falls.  Jim notices.  “Nope, I’—”
“All right.”
“Don’t—”

“Okayyy,” Andy singsongs.  He raises his eyebrows knowingly at the camera as he walks off.

“All right.”  He turns his attention back to Karen.  “I should, uh… probably get back to work, too.”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.”

As he walks back to his office, she stands there and thinks for a sec, while he’s desperate to get out of there.

“The day’s going okay,” Karen tells the crew, nodding to convince herself, “Y’know it’s just been business as usual and um…” she bites her lip, “yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

Jim just sits in front of them, resting the side of his head on his fingers, looking off into space.  “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Pam enters the conference room quickly, surprised that Michael waited on her.

“Pam, you’re a member of this family.  So we will wait for our family members.”  God, Michael, not today.  “Phyllis, you wanna give it a shot?”

“I got it,” Dwight intercepts, “When my mother was pregnant with me, they did an ultrasound and found she was having twins.  When they did another ultrasound a few weeks later, they discovered… that I had resorbed the other fetus.  Do I regret this?  No.  I believe his tissue has made me stronger.  I now have the strength of a grown man and a little baby.”  Dwight going first was a mistake.

Stanley (quite aggressively) refuses to go, so Michael hands it to Pam.  She wants to talk about her fears regarding Jim and corporate; sure they’re all nice and they’d support them both through it, but then again 1) they’re both probably in hot water and don’t want them to know on top of that, and 2) she remembers who all these people are.

Okay, think of the last movie you’ve wa— Perfect!  “Let’s see…  I had an aunt that I was really close to.  She was this amazing female boxer.  Um, anyway, she was injured in a fight, and she was paralyzed.”  Ryan’s quick on the uptake.  “So, you can imagine how upset I was when I found out that she asked her manager to remove her breathing tube so she could die…”

“Wow.”  Michael is truly touched.  “If you wanna cry, that’s okay.”  Nah, I’m good.

Ryan wants the ball now, so she tosses it to him.  He mentions his cousin, Mufasa, who was trampled to death by a pack of wildebeests.

“Do you want to talk about it anymore?” Michael asks.

“Oh, it would probably take me like an hour and a half to tell that whole story.”  Indeed, it would.

Kevin, after unsubtly using Weekend at Bernie’s as a death in the family, Michael says that they all think this is some kind of game (Phyllis points out the ball) and keeps wanting to rope them all back into his pity party.

And here comes Toby to try to alleviate the situation.  Again, to no avail.  “Michael, look.  I know this is hard for you, but death’s just a part of life.  I mean, just this morning I saw a little bird fly into the glass doors downstairs and die.”  Michael’s world is crumbling around him.  “And I had to keep going.”

“How do you know?” he asks desperately.

“…What?”

“That that bird was dead?  Did you check… its breathing?

“It was obvious—”

“Was its heart beating, Toby?  Did you check it?  No, of course, you didn’t.  You’re not a veterinarian.  You don’t know ANYTHING!”

Naturally, Michael goes downstairs and does what Toby had the absolute GALL not to do: save the bird.  Dwight follows him, not because of his unwavering loyalty but rather because he knows what Michael’s about to do to himself.  It’s dead.  He brings it to the kitchen, giving it water, as some of the employees are attempting to relax and/or eat.  It’s dead.  There will be a funeral service for the bird at 4 pm.  They all have work to do, but this bird, the bird that Toby killed, must be honored.

Pam does look sorry for Michael.  He’s been through a lot today… I can at least help him through this.

Michael is finally seeing that Kelly, of all people, is having the proper reaction from all the chaos of the day.  He walks up to take care of her.  She is truly upset… about how many times she has to confirm with Ryan about their date tonight.  Dwight, being helpful, tries to stick the bird’s carcass in a soda can, much to Michael’s irritation.

It takes a lot for Dwight Schrute to be done with Michael, but somehow he manages(™).  “I’m sorry, I grew up on a farm,” Dwight snides to the crew, “We slaughtered a pig whenever we wanted bacon.  My grandfather was reburied in an old oil drum. …It would have fit if he had given me another minute.”

“Did I wake up this morning thinking I’d be throwing together a bird funeral?” Pam asks them later on, showing off the her decorated ‘coffin’ (a small box) for the bird, “You never can tell what your day here is gonna turn into,” she finishes with a shrug.

She also suggests Dwight get his recorder.  He’s hyped.

Outside, the funeral takes place.  They decide to cremate the body (they couldn’t bury it).  Pam confirms she made the box herself; Michael thinks it’s very nice.  At least he appreciates the gesture.

“When I was five,” Ryan shared to the crew right before the funeral, “my mom told me that my fish went to the hospital in the toilet and it never came back so we had a funeral for it.  And I remember thinking ‘I’m a little too old for this.’  And I was five.”

And Pam offers some final words of her own, knowing exactly how to pierce through Michael’s shell, “What do we know about this bird?  You might think, ‘Not much.  It’s just a bird.’  But we do know some things.  We know it was a local bird.  Maybe it’s that same bird that surprised Oscar that one morning with a special present from above.”  Kevin remembers that.  It was so funny.  “And we know how he died.  Flying into the glass doors.”  She looks at Michael, knowingly.  “But you know what?  I don’t think he was being stupid.  I think he just really, really wanted to come inside our building to spread his cheer and lift our spirits with a song.”
“He’s not a songbird.”
“Shhh!”
“An impression, then.  Lastly, we can’t help but notice that he was by himself when he died, but of course, we all know… that doesn’t mean he was alone.”  Michael lets all of her words truly sink in.  “Because I’m sure that there were lots of other birds out there who cared for him very much.  He will not be forgotten.”
“Amen,” Angela quickly adds.

Pam’s touching and impactful words give Michael a new perspective on life, which he can carry with him as he properly grieves.

Cue Dwight playing Jeffery Osborne’s ‘On the Wings of Love’ on his recorder, with Pam’s vocals.

“Just smile for me and let the day begin”

“You are the sunshine that lights my heart within…”

As a couple of warehouse workers just stare at everyone wondering what the hell is going on, Michael sways happily with a weirded out Phyllis and Meredith, coming to terms with loss, its impact lessening, its grip loosening.

Michael wraps all of this up to the crew, “Society teaches us that having feelings and crying is bad and wrong.

“Well, that’s baloney.  Because grief isn’t wrong.  There is such a thing as good grief.
As Jim walks out of the office, he gives Karen, still at her desk, a kind smile and wave goodbye, and she returns it.  Her smile fades as he walks away.

“Just ask Charlie Brown.”

Michael, at peace, tells everyone to get back to work.  Finally.

Dwight later puts out the fire, steps on the box to put it out, and demands the warehouse workers get a broom.

Jim’s still out in the parking lot, in his car, talking to Pam, just… needing a breather after everything that’s happened.  Both of them.

“Okay, next time I see you, I want you”
[“Stop.”]
“to bring Dwight”
[“Stop!”]
“and his recorder”
[“Shut up!”]
“and serenade me to sleep.”

[“No chance in hell, Halpert!”]  He’s beside himself as she laughs alongside him.  [“Oh, and um…”]

Oh boy.  “I know that voice.  Roy?”

She sighs dejectedly, [“Yeah.”]

Dude, you’ve gotta stop.  “Wanna talk about it?”

[“I’ll… tell ya later.”]

“No problem.”

[“Guess we’ve both had a bit of a day, huh?”]

“Yup.  Michael certainly has, it seems.”

[“Yeah, poor thing.  And, hey, I’m not mad at Karen.”]  She really isn’t.  Especially not after Roy.  [“You can tell her you’re in a long-distance relationship.”]

“I guess… This whole corporate thing has—”  He sees Karen from his rearview mirror.  Pam’s right, she doesn’t have to know anything else about us.  It’s not like she’ll report us.  “Hey, um, can I give you a call right back?”

[“Sure, no problem.”]

“Alright, cool.”

[“Bye.”]
“Bye.”

He sees Karen walking to her car, needing to be honest with him.

“Hey!” she greets.

“Hey.”

“I thought you had already… left.”

“Uh… no.  I was just, uh…”  Just rip the Band-Aid, man.  “I was on the phone with my girlfriend actually.  She’s from out of state, so…”

Her entire deposition switches out of the blue.  “Well, good for you!” she supports excitedly.

It throws him off guard for a sec.  “Oh, thanks,” he responds, two parts happy and relieved.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, we’ve been together for a while, and—”
“That’s great!”
“Yeah.  Sorry, I feel like I shoulda—”

“Hey, it’s your personal life, alright?” She tells him plainly, “Y-you didn’t even have to tell me.”

“Yeah, but… I just feel bad.  I feel like things were a little weird earlier.”

“Jim, I’m fine,” she reassures, “Really.”

Jim, relieved that everything’s taken care of, takes a small sigh, “Okay, cool.”

“Yup.”

“Uh, see you in the morning?”

“Yup, see you then.”

“Night.”

“Night.”

As Jim walks back to his car, the camera pans over to Karen getting into hers, capturing her disappointment.

When he’s buckling up, he sees that Pam is calling.

[“Hi!”]

“Hey, I was just about to call you back.”

She notices his disposition.  [“Everything good?”]

“Well, saw Karen outside, followed your advice, and… she was happy for me.”

[“See?  There you go!”]

“Yeah… What’s up?”

[“Okay… David Wallace got in touch with us by an email.”]

“Wait, an email?  Really?”

[“Yeah… He said it’s cool.”]

“W— Seriously?  Like that?”

[“Yeah!  He’s fine with it and nobody else will know!”]

“…Oh, thank God!”  They both laugh in relief, knowing that their secret is both safe and secure.  This is a step forward, that they can continue working for this company and still be together until they can escape it one day.

[“It’s like I can breathe again.”]

“Me, too.”  They can breathe.

Because they know.  And it’s okay that they know.

[“…I love you.”]

“I love you, too.”

URGENT — Workplace Relationship
FROM: dwallace@dundermifflinpaper.com
TO: jhalpert@dundermifflinpaper.com, pbeesly@dundermifflinpaper.com
CC: jlevinson@dundermifflin.com

Dear Mr. Halpert and Miss Beesly,

Usually I would contact you over the phone or in person. Unique circumstances have caused this information to be relayed through email.

I took some time to deliberate on whether or not it’d be a good idea for you two to continue your romantic relationship while both of you are employed at Dunder Mifflin. This is the first time any sort of workplace relationship has come to my attention during my time in this company thus far, and from what I know, there are a very select few in this company. At my former place of work, I have seen firsthand how damaging workplace relationships can be for both the couple and the company, especially amongst an employee and their direct superior. Dunder Mifflin, unfortunately, has had a track record of various upper- to middle-management positions resigning or being let go due to sexual harassment cases, my predecessor included. And this company cannot afford any more lawsuits, especially after the outing of one of Scranton’s employees, who will remain anonymous upon their request.

If you two are to remain together, there are some ground rules that you both need to be reminded of. Beyond our policies regarding sexual harassment (of which you both are already well aware given Scranton’s reputation), anything regarding your relationship should be completely divorced from the workplace; it cannot affect your work performance in any capacity, especially regarding promotions, salary, etc. Furthermore, there cannot be any public displays of affection in the workspace, and company devices (phones, IM chats, etc.) must no longer be used for you to contact each other regarding your relationship.

From what little I know of you two, you seem to be already aware of all of this and have clearly done your homework. Jan spoke very highly of you both, as well as your respective HR Representatives Kyle Burnette and Toby Flenderson. We also vehemently agree with your decision to keep your relationship private amongst your coworkers and only discuss it with them outside of the workplace if you so choose.

I’m putting a lot of trust in you two, but in the end, I do trust your judgment.

Best of luck to you both.

Sincerely,
David Wallace
Chief Financial Officer
Dunder Mifflin Paper Company, Inc.

P.S.: Jim and Pam,

When my wife Rachel and I started dating, she lived in Maine while I was here in New York; we maintained a long-distance relationship for nine months before she eventually got the chance to move to NY. I understand how difficult this must be. All I advise is that you two don’t give up on each other. Speaking from experience, everything will work out in due time and you two will eventually be together in person.

Stay strong.

Also, I know how Michael can be. Good luck with that.

Warm regards,
David

As we eat our sandwiches, he tells me all about Stamford.  Karen seems awesome, I’d love to meet her.  If she worked in Scranton, she’d probably be the one woman in the office I would get along with.  I joke that I may have some competition; he responds by kissing me again, telling me I have nothing to worry about.  I wasn’t serious, but I appreciate the reassurance.  And Andy?  Okay, this must have been how Jim felt when he met Dwight for the first time.  This man sounds like an alien, or-or a robot!  Yeah, a robot that’s a walking, singing ad for Cornell University, who blew a fuse and now wants to ‘Kill All Humans!’.  He told me how annoying he finds his nickname.  I respond “I dunno, personally speaking, I love Tuna.”  He just shakes his head, trying (and failing) to hide his blush, “Clever.”

Then we clear the air.  Of everything.  No more secrets, no more denial, no more lying.  If we’re doing long-distance, then there’s not a thing that we should hide from each other, even if we think it’s for the other’s benefit.  We’ve already apologized to each other, yet we still apologize some more, so much so that we’re afraid the words “apology”, “apologize” and “sorry” would lose their meaning amongst us; we’ll make sure they don’t, we know we’ll need them again.  I tear up at points because of course, I do, so he simply just wipes them away and kisses me.  After that, we lounge on the couch so we can watch some of his shows, just being a new couple for a while, me snuggling up against him as he holds me and loves me.  It’s bliss.

After a long bout of us just being us again, he lets me take a shower first.  I can tell he cleaned up the place for my arrival, there is no way his bathroom would look this pristine.  Still, the gesture is appreciated.  I’m now in my PJs, reading comfortably in his bed (“You’re a guest in my house, Beesly, I’m couching it.”), with my glasses on.

As he walks into his bedroom, I can tell he’s spent, just as much as I am.  He doesn’t even notice I’m in his room when he — to my awe and enjoyment — takes off his sweater and his shirt.

I’ve always been attracted to Roy, even now, despite everything.  After that basketball game, though… for as tall and lanky as Jim is, I would have never guessed he’d be that toned.  Those baggy dress shirts do not do him justice.  He is a tad skinnier than I remember.  Still, hot damn.

He turns around, jumping when he realizes I’m right there, his cheeks immediately becoming red.  “Um, yeah, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“You know you’re cute when you’re flustered,” I say with a cheeky grin.

His face brightens through a sigh of relief as he grabs his own PJs (thankfully leaving the shirt off), “Again, sorry about that, I forgot you were in here.”

“Jim, we’re together,” I clarify, “It’s okay.  Besides, I was enjoying the view quite a lot.”

“Is that all I am to you?” he jokes, “Just a piece of meat?”

“Maybe,” I joke, “You look pretty tasty.”

“Slow down there Bees,” he fake warns me, “You need to wine and dine me first.”

“That can be arranged.”

With a chuckle, he enters the bathroom.  It’s about 45 minutes later when he comes out in his PJs, hair still a bit wet.  He jumps to the other side of the bed, laying on his side, happier than I’ve ever seen him.  “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I didn’t know you wear glasses,” he points out.

“Yeah,” I admit, placing my book on his bedside table, “I wear contacts when I’m out.”

“How bad is your vision?”

I take off my glasses and place them at the bedside as well.  “Imagine if the copier at work ran out of toner.”

“Oof, that bad, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Why don’t you ever wear them out?”

I scoff, “Have you met the people I work with?”

“Who cares what they think?” he asks seriously.

“I don’t,” I clarify (which I do care a little, to be honest), “it’s that everyone will make a meal out of it.  Michael will tell me I’ve quit trying, Kelly will make a backhanded compliment, Kevin will judge how hot I look with them on or off, and Angela will still find a new, unique way to call me a whore.  Any deviation from my normal fashion sense will stir some sort of controversy because no one at that place has anything better to do.”

He nods.  “If it’s any consolation, I think they make you look cute.”

I blush, “Really?” I say like a lovesick teenage girl.  I’m insufferable right now, but I’m happy.

“Yeah,” he kisses me on the cheek.

As I shift to my side, wrapping my arms around the pillow, I look at his handsome smiling face as my smile begins to fade.

He quickly takes notice as he holds my cheek, “What’s up?”

“I should’ve known,” I begin with regret, “I should’ve broken up with Roy before he even proposed.  Would’ve saved us both a lot of grief.  Then we—” I pause, the what-if killing me, “This should have happened earlier.”  He looks at me with those damn hazel eyes again, full of concern.  “I wasted so much time, I was so young and stupid,” I finish, my own eyes glassy.

“Hey…” he cups my face with both hands, wiping away my stray tear with his thumb, then slowly leans in to give me a tender kiss.  “You loved Roy.  You wanted a life with him.  You were young, sure, but never stupid.”  I know deep down that he’s right, it just doesn’t help.  “And… God knows how many mistakes I’ve made.  I tried to move on, wanted to, was going to, I just couldn’t.  I drove off, never bothering to contact you or anyone else from work.  Now that you’re here, I should have stayed.”

I can see how deep in regret he is, so it’s my turn, “You were impulsive, but I get it.  You wanted to move on and not dwell on the past.  I don’t blame you for feeling that.  Besides, you’re finally being recognized for your talents.  As I said, you earned this.  And Casino Night… you did wake me up, Jim.  If it wasn’t for that kiss I would have never reevaluated my relationship with Roy.  I can’t thank you enough.”

I kiss his temple, him doing the same to mine.  “How long?” he asks.

I’m confused, “How long what?”

“How long have you had feelings for me?”

I don’t hold back, might as well be honest.  “Since the day I met you.”

“Likewise, Beesly.”  Dammit, Jim, stop being so sweet.  “Despite all the times I messed up, this was worth every second.”

I just wrap my arms around him in response.  He notices I’m upset, so he gently strokes my hair as he holds me to calm me down.  “Why can’t I get past this?” I think out loud, “I’m happy, happier than I’ve ever been.  So why am I hating myself?”

“You’re telling me,” he says, his voice filled with regret, “I have the Pam Beesly in my arms, I shouldn’t feel like shit right now.”  I hold him tighter to calm his nerves as we pull apart slightly, still looking at each other, our foreheads touching.  “We’ve forgiven each other, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, we did.  I think we need to forgive ourselves now.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know,” I take a breath, “but we can make this work.”

“We need to get over ourselves if this is going to work.”

“Exactly,” I respond, “We just need to forgive and forget.  I’m willing to do it if you are.”

“I’ll certainly try,” he shrugs.

“Do or do not, Halpert,” I say with a smirk, “there is no try.”

“Wow, Star Wars?”  He’s back.  “Didn’t take you for a nerd.”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk.  You love Battlestar Galactica just as much as Dwight does.”

“Dammit, you found out my secret,” he jokingly says with a hint of shame.  He knows I’m right.

I laugh, “It’s not like you’re a difficult read.”

He chuckles and kisses my forehead.  “Well, I’m gonna go to sleep.  This entire day has been… wow.”  He rolls off the bed.

“Me too,” I say, “I’m swamped.”

As he walks to the doorway, there’s something I need to tell him, “Jim?”

“Yeah?” he turns back to me.

“I’m in love with you.”

He looks down and smiles, warming my heart that he knows I don’t need to hide anymore.  He simply replies, “I’m in love with you,” with the same intensity from that night, now without a hint of sorrow, anticipation, or regret.  It’s like we’re in one of those cheesy rom coms I hate, yet I can’t bring myself to care.

“Goodnight, Jim,” I say quietly.

“Goodnight, Pam.”  He flicks the light switch for me and closes the door softly.  With a deep breath, I get comfortable, drifting off into the best sleep I’ve had in months.

The next morning consists of us eating bacon and chocolate waffles, watching TV, and just being in each other’s arms, a true Lazy Saturday before we go on our first proper date tomorrow.

Amid our comfortable lounging, sprawled on the couch, me on my back to him with his arms around me, a thought suddenly occurred to me, “Wait, do you still have to go to Australia?”

“Nope,” he answers honestly, “I refunded it when I decided to transfer.”

“You said it was non-refundable.”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” he sulks.  I can hear a heavy breath through his nose, him getting pissed at himself.

“Hey,” I respond gently, soothingly rubbing his arm, “Forgive and forget.”

“Forgive and forget,” he echos.  I lean up to kiss him on the cheek.  Just like that, we’re both okay again.  We’re both still getting used to the whole ‘forgiving ourselves’ thing.  Hey, it’s a start.

“We should still do something for that weekend, though,” I suggest, “I mean, I still have eight workdays off for the wedding and honeymoon.  Do you still have yours for Australia?”

“Yeah,” he clarifies, “It was too late to unschedule my leave.  I was gonna use that time to distract myself after everything between us.  Now,” he shrugs, “guess I have five days to kill.”

I don’t wanna dwell on what ‘distracting myself’ would entail.  “I know you’re not a traveler, but there’s still time to go somewhere domestic, a change of pace,” I point out, “I think it’d be good for both of us.”

“Yeah, good point,” he agrees, “Where did you have in mind?”

“I was gonna ask you that, it’s your choice,” I offer.

“Oh, is it now?” he asks oh so quizzically.

“Yes, it is,” I confirm with tenacity, “So, where to?”

Having known the man for six years, the answer’s obvious.

3.05 Initiation

“Brainteaser,” Dwight quizzes an unenthused Ryan, “I have two coins totaling 15 cents, and one of them is not a nickel.  What are they?”

“A dime and a nickel,” Ryan answers.

“No, I said, one of them is not a nickel.”

“But the other one is.  I’ve heard that before.”

“Okay,” Dwight considers another one, “A man and his son get into a car accident.  They are rushed to the hospital.  The doctor says, there is no way I can operate on this boy, bec—”

“Because he’s my son.  The doctor is the boy’s mother.”

A new battle has begun.  “A man is found hanging from the ceiling—”

“He stepped on a block of ice, hung himself, and the ice melted.”

“…A hunter—”

“It’s a polar bear because you’re at the North Pole.”

“DAMNIT!” he frustratingly pounds the table.  The battle has been lost to the enemy.

Pam talks quietly to the doc crew about how she and Jim keep contact, “Jim’s been working long hours lately and we don’t wanna use company property after Wallace’s email, so we decided to send handwritten letters.  He said he would send a letter back the next day,” she sighs through this next sentence, “It has been a week.  Patience is a virtue.”

Cut to Jan in Michael’s office, keeping a tally of everything he’s done in the past week just to make sure he’s on track; considering Scranton’s branch is in danger of closing, she’ll not have her mistake with Michael affect her job.  The single thing she’s decided to dedicate her entire life to.

“Tell me what you did yesterday,” she tells him.

“Uhhhhhhh Nothing.”

Not the answer she expected or wanted.  “Nothing?”

“Yeah, nothing,” he answers all-too-casually, “How was your day?”

She believes this man is an alien.  “I don’t care how your day was Michael.”

He takes offense to this, “Wow, well.  Okay.  I don’t care how your day was either, Jan, I was just asking you because you asked me.  Why do you set me up like that?”
“Tell me what you did yesterday.”

“I… worked.  And then I went home to my condo.  And Carol came over.  And then we had sex.  Is that what you want to hear?”  Despite her smirk at the camera, that is exactly the last thing she wanted to hear.

“Never, ever, ever sleep with your boss,” Michael advises the crew, “I am so lucky that Jan and I only got to second base.”  Yup, how lucky.

Fed up with his lack of productivity, Jan wants an hour-by-hour log of everything he’s doing.  That’s not how Michael rolls, though, for sometimes he’s in the zone or zoning out (clearly Jan doesn’t know slang, he’ll get a book from Amazon).  She gives Michael a chance: If he can account for his hours (aka do his damn job), then corporate can justify his salary.

His response?  “A woman spurned.”

She has to go.

“Hi, Pam,” Jan greets her in a rush.

“Hi.”

“I’m great.”  O-kay.  “So, Pam I would like you to keep a log of everything Michael does hour by hour so we can analyze it at corporate, okay?”

Are you serious?  “Oh, I don’t know if I’m—”

“Thanks, Pam.”  Pam just sighs as she puts the folder down.

“It’s weird,” the crew cuts to Pam reflecting on what’s happening, “Jan used to treat Michael like he was a ten-year-old, but lately it’s like he’s five.”  Her and Ryan seem to be on the same wavelength.

As Jan leaves in a huff, Pam realizes she needs to tell her something, “Jan?”

The VP of Sales, five feet away, turns around and addresses her impatiently, “Yes.  Pam.”

“We never got the chance to thank you.”

Jan’s entire disposition changes.  Though she doesn’t want the branch to close, it’s pretty inevitable.  But what Jim said on Casino Night, well, she wants to avoid anything she went through happening to him.

She’ll root for them to the end, but she still has a job to do.  That end is in sight.

With a sigh and a slight smile, she gives Pam one last piece of advice.  “Don’t make the same mistakes that I made.”  She’s made too many mistakes already.

Pam smiles and nods, making sure Jan knows she’s receptive to what she said.  Jan returns it with a single nod, and she’s off.

Pam, forlorn, turns her attention back to her monitor.

Please get back to me.  I miss you.

Dwight’s wide grin is an indication of a series of interesting events to come.  “So you excited?”

“Yeah,” Ryan answers halfheartedly.

“Very excited?”

“Yes.  I’m very excited.”  Clearly.

“Extremely excited?”  Nope.  “Just very?  That’s cool.”  Dwight is extremely excited, much to Ryan’s fear.

Yup, Dwight is going to mentor Ryan on what it takes to be a real Sales Representative.

“Dwight is taking Ryan on a sales call today,” Pam reveals to the crew, “So if we find Ryan’s body in a heavily-wooded area tomorrow, I owe Jim thirty dollars.  It’s an old bet, but a deal’s a deal.”

“I have spent a year here,” Ryan further elaborates to them, “And I have to commit or get out.”  Indeed, he does.  “So, Dwight’s the top salesman in the company and he’s taking me on my first sales call today.  And, um, I’m excited.”  He is actually excited about something work-related.  For once.

Ryan is one who knows his worth, his skill, his potential.  It annoys the piss out of him that he has an MBA, yet he got a temp job at some dying paper company.  Well, now that he’s here permanently, he’ll do what he can to advance his career and get out of this clown show.

He has Jim Halpert’s departure to thank for that.

Barring the fact that he’s not a fan of Jim, Ryan now gets to advance within the company and may someday be hired as a Vice President, probably the youngest in the company’s history.  He knows something that everyone else here is ignorant of: there’s no business in paper anymore.  It’s 2006, laptops exist, they’ve been used for years now.  He can get a better idea of how this system works.  Get an idea of what needs to change in this company.  How it should be changed.  Not only that, it’ll provide him a life of wealth and success.

If anyone could save this company from failing, bring it back into relevance, it just might be Ryan.

But that wealth and success?  It takes effort.  A lot of it.  Wealth and success don’t happen overnight and, even when they do, it still takes effort to maintain.  A great, fantastic, lucrative idea is only a theory.  If the effort to execute said theory is half-assed, everything will fall apart.  That’s a lesson that Ryan has yet to learn.

“I am very excited,” Dwight tells the crew as if it wasn’t obvious, “Ryan hasn’t made a sale yet, but more importantly, he hasn’t made an ally yet.  Is he going to be a slacker-loser-wise-ass like Jim was?  Or is he going to join the ‘Dwight Army of Champions’?”  He does not join, which is a wise decision.

That said, Dwight is the best salesman in the company and the backbone of Dunder Mifflin Scranton.  He holds a secret to his success, a secret that many aspiring sales reps would kill to possess, and Ryan is determined to find out.  It’s unfortunate because Dwight can’t save the branch alone.  Stanley and Phyllis are decent sales reps themselves (Stanley used to have excellent numbers before he stopped caring), but due to the branch’s downward spiral, they can’t pull enough of their weight, and Ryan has pulled no weight.  Time is of the essence.

Dwight blasts rock music on his radio as he drives Ryan through the field.  He has a legitimate question about sales, “So what if they’re not talking much, then does it make sense to kind of lead the conversation?  You know, just ’til it gets to a point where-where they are asking questions?”

Dwight doesn’t answer, a chilling pause as he parks the car.  In the middle of a beet field.

“So where’s the sales office?” Ryan asks, half-curious, half-frightened beyond belief.

Dwight just turns to him, a determined look on his face.  “When you are ready to see the sales office, the sales office will present itself to you.”  Dwight grows a knowing grin as he makes an announcement.  “Your journey begins now.”

Ryan has no idea what he’s in for.

Meanwhile, in Stamf*squeeeeeak* *squeeeak*

Karen shifts in her seat, “Hey,” she addresses Jim.

“What?”

“My chair’s squeaking.”

“Is it?”

She figures it out, “You took my chair.”

“No, I didn’t,” he clarifies, “I took back my chair that you took from me, but I didn’t take your chair.”

“When you get up, I’m just going to take it back anyway, so,” she says, giving him a knowing look.

“So I guess I can’t get up,” he refuses.

She responds with a shrug of ‘Guess not.’  She’s always up for a challenge.

He uses the chair while still sitting on it to roll down alllll the way across the room to the copier, refusing to get up.  Seeing him going through these lengths?  It’s clever.  Through a confident smile, she knows she’ll eventually break him down.

After Jim waves to a passing coworker, he sighs through his lips, clearly thinking about something.

Jim quickly became the heart of Dunder Mifflin Stamford.  Ironically, his skills in sales are a hindrance, despite the commission.  More customers are coming to him for their needs, meaning more work he has to catch up on by the evening, meaning less time for Pam, the reason why he’s still there, to begin with.  He’s too damn tired by the time he gets home for cell phone or Skype conversations and they still don’t wanna use company property while he’s in Stamford.  There’re weekends and even the Fourth of July, yet that’s still not enough.

It’ll show up, Beesly, it will.

Karen turns back to her computer as soon as she notices his shift in mood.  She’s very perceptive, which is one of her strengths as a sales rep.

“I noticed Jim’s been working late,” she admits to the crew, “I have an idea… but I don’t know how to approach it yet,” she nods, “I’ll figure that out once I get my chair back,” her smirk as confident as ever.  She has a plan that could kill two birds with one stone, though it might come off the wrong way or affect his paycheck.  If it works out, however, it’ll be a surefire win/win.

All she hopes is that the girl from out of state realizes how lucky she is.  You have no idea, Karen.

Jim’s not giving up the chair.

Michael is on the phone, greeting a friend named Brent Koselli.  He does a bunch of Bill Cosby impressions.

Pam logs it.

“Do you know where we are, temp?”  Ryan’s training has begun.  Dwight will be his guide.

“I know where we’re not.”  Ryan hasn’t so much as picked up a shovel, yet he feels like he’s done a full day’s work on the farm.

Dwight begins, “I hold in my hand, a beet seed,” he has his palm open, showing off the precious seed, “Take it.”  Ryan tries to— “Ah!”  Dwight closes his hand.  The first lesson has begun.  “When—” Ryan just manages to take it.  “…Damn it.”

Dwight sulks through the beet field to finish his first lesson.  Ryan, well, he just hopes he’ll learn something.

Andy gets up out of his chair, “Hey, Big Tuna,” he asks Jim, “can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure.”

“Can you stand up? …And, talk to me over there?”

Damn it all, Andy, “That’s it?” Karen criticizes, “That’s what you came up with?”

Andy’s insulted, “I’m acting my heart out here.”
“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Huh.”

“You asked for my help, so… I helped.”

Jim’s not giving up the chair.

Michael Scott is a person Stanley Hudson does not respect.  The things Michael says, his actions, his methods, and style.  Everything he would do, Stanley would do it the opposite way.  He has known Michael a very long time, and the more he’s gotten to know him, the less he’s come to respect him.

But there’s one day, one blessed day where the two can set aside their differences.  For this day is a day of brotherhood, of friendship, of love, of long lasting peace and goodwill.  A day that blows even holidays like Halloween or Christmas out of the water.  It doesn’t have to be centuries old, steeped in a myriad of traditions, history, and folklore to be a true holiday.  Yet it will stand the test of time.  The Scranton Business Park speakers declare it:

~“Attention Scranton Business Park: there will be complimentary pretzels in the lobby from now until 4:00 as a thank you to our loyal tenants.”~

It is Pretzel Day once again.

Michael and Stanley walk off, and Pam logs it.

“Once a year they bring in a little cart and they give away free pretzels,” she informs the crew, “It’s really not a big deal. …To some people it is.”

Michael discusses to the cameras his reasoning why these coveted pretzels are the keys to success.  “Productivity is important, but how can I be productive if I have this one little thing in my brain… that I cannot get out?  And that one little thing is a soft pretzel.  So I’m just going to have my soft pretzel, then I’ll get to work, and I’ll be super productive.  Lllook out for me!”

And the line’s like 25 people.

This is Pretzel Day, however.  Traditions must be upheld, no matter how long it takes.

“And just as you have planted your seed in the ground,” Dwight continues as Ryan plants the beet seed in the manure, “I’m going to plant my seed in you.”

Ryan’s rightfully put off by that phrasing, “I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”

Dwight uses the manure to emphasize something important, “It’s called bull crap, and a client can smell it from a mile away.”  Not a bad takeaway, if you think about it.

Ryan has now planted the seed.  He has passed the first test.

Dwight suddenly remembers he forgot something in his car… and drives off, leaving Ryan in the middle of the beet field.

Ryan reflects on this event to the camera, “You know, every time I think I hit rock bottom at my job, the floor opens up, like at a carnival ride.”  The phrase ‘carnival ride’ is the aptest description of Dunder Mifflin Scranton there is.  “I’m gonna retrace my steps: college, four-year degree, student loans, business school, alone in a beet field.  I— there’s a step missing.”  Indeed there is.  “‘Hey, mom.’  ‘Hey, Ryan.  How’s that five–year plan coming?’  ‘Oh, it’s great.  Today, I knelt down in cow manure and I got abandoned in a beet field.’  ‘Oh, that’s cool.’  ‘Yeah, that’s really cool.  I’m learning a lot.  I’m really glad I took this full-time job.’”

For all of Ryan’s faults, this reaction is justified.

Stanley expresses why Pretzel Day is the best day of the year, “I wake up every morning in a bed that’s too small, drive my daughter to a school that’s too expensive, and then I go to work to a job for which I get paid too little, but on Pretzel Day?  Well, I like Pretzel Day.”  Don’t we all, Stanley, don’t we all?

As he and Michael stand in line (enduring the onslaught of Kelly’s incessant chatting about cupcakes and Narnia), the two men witness Phyllis greets her fiancé Bob Vance (of Vance Refrigeration fame) as he’s ahead in line.  A big mistake.

“Hey, hey, hey!  Phyllis!” Michael signals, “What’re you doing?”

She’s puzzled.  The poor thing doesn’t understand.  “I’m just saying hi to Bob.”

“No, I think you’re cutting in line.”

“Well settle down, Scott,” Bob advises, willingly ignorant.

He and Stanley shame Phyllis with righteous indignation:
“No, I’m not going to settle down.”
“Uh-Uh-Uh.  No way.  Uh-uh.”
“Get in the back please.”
“Boooooo.”
“Boooooo!”
“Boooo.  Back of the line.”

“Thank you,” Michael finishes.  They high-five in solidarity: true justice has been served.  “That’s right.”

“What a pair of Marys.”  Bob continues to be willingly ignorant.

Stanley drives the point home, “This is Pretzel Day.”  Preach!

“‘Hey Dwight, you’re a great salesman.  Can you teach me?’  ‘Sure, Ryan.  I’ll make you the ole commodore.  I’ll abandon you in a beet field.’  ‘Huh.  That sounds great, Dwight, I’ll really appreciate that.  Thank you so much for your mentorship.’”  Ryan’s reaction is still justified.

With Ryan passing the second challenge, Dwight welcomes him to Schrute Farm!

He walked the long trek to the Farm.  He has passed the second test.

Karen, desperate to win this challenge, keeps the *sqeeeeeak* of her chair going to get to Jim.  He does have an ace up his sleeve, brought to him by The Cardigans.

“Love me, love me, say that you love me”

“Fool me, fool me,”
“Stop.”
“go on, and fool me”

“Love me, love me, say that you love me”
“This is not fair,”
“Fool me, fool me,”
“this is going to be in my head all day.  Please.”
“go on, and fool me”

“Love me, Love me, say that”
“This is not a proportionate response.”
“you love me”

“Fool me, fool me, go on, and fool me—”

And Andy caps it off to the crew:
“I don’t care ’bout anything but youuu” he smiles, pleased with himself, “Whatever happened to those guys?”

Jim’s not giving up the chair.

Pam gets out of the elevator to greet a certain participant of Pretzel Day, “Michael—”

“No cuts!”  He turns to see who it is, “Oh, Pam.  Just the woman I’d like to see, you read my mind!”

Finally, productivity!  “Great!  I thought you could use this time to authorize some checks.”

“I thought that maybe you could wait in line for me while I go to the bathroom?”  Is this real life?  “You’re an angel.”

“Hey, why don’t you just go up to your office, get some work done, and I’ll just bring you a pretzel?”

Poor Pam doesn’t understand Pretzel Day, either.  “Because I like them a certain way, and if it gets screwed up, then— whole thing is blown.”  Precisely.

“You know, I just think it’s really important that you be productive today.”  PLEASE.

“Pam, productivity starts with patience and determination.”  The pillars of Pretzel Day.  “I’ll beh bahck.”  Don’t be upset, Pam, for you’re assisting one who needs help on this Pretzel Day, an act of goodwill.

Cut back to her desk.

HOURLY WORK LOG
7:00 AM
8:00 AM
9:00 AM
10:00 AM — Cosby Impression
11:00 AM
12:00 PM — Stood in Pretzel Line
1:00 PM

Screw it, I’m leaving him a message.  Hopefully, he’ll be up for it.

“It is time for your next test,” Dwight announces, “You have planted the beet seed.  You have walked the long lonely walk of loneliness.”

“Look man, I was in a frat in college,” Ryan criticizes, just done with this rodeo show, “So I know what you’re doing.  I get it.”

“You know what your problem is?” Dwight confronts him, “You know why you haven’t made any sales?  ’Cause, you think you know everything.  You have to trust that maybe there are other people that can teach you things.”

And this, this right here, is Dwight’s secret to the success he’s earned, and they are two qualities: he demonstrates both the confidence to speak and the willingness to listen.  These are the qualities that Ryan needs to learn to be a successful sales representative, for if he doesn’t demonstrate either of these, he won’t go anywhere.

There’s a reason Dwight Kurt Schrute is the backbone of Dunder Mifflin Scranton, and these qualities are why.

Ryan can surely learn and demonstrate these themselves he really can.  As long as he puts in the effort.

“Are you ready to learn?” Dwight pushes, “Are you ready for the final test?”

Ryan, though hesitant, lets Dwight’s words sink in, “Yeah.”

“Come on!”  A giddy Dwight walks into the farm, preparing the final test.  Ryan joins him, still hesitant.

It is now Michael’s turn to be delivered the holy offering that this whole day is based around: the one, the only, The Pretzel.

“Hi.  Please tell me that you have a sweet pretzel left,” Michael asks.

“We do,” the vendor says.

“Thank God.”  Indeed, Michael, for you have been awarded for your patience.

“And we have 18 different toppings.”  The vendor lists them to Michael, who must now choose, and choose wisely.

“Is there any way that you could do… al-all of them?”

“The Works, you got it.”

“All right!  Thank you!”  He has chosen wisely.

Now that Michael has the reason for the season, he and Stanley partake of them in his office.  “What makes them so good?” he asks.

“I do not know,” Stanley answers.  It remains a mystery.

“I mean, they’re just dough twisted up with some candy,” Michael points out, “They taste so good in my mouth.”

“That’s what she said!”  The apathetic salesman and the bumbling boss share a laugh.

Yes, this has truly been a blessed Pretzel Day.

While the manager and the salesman enjoy pretzels in the office, it gives Pam some time down at the stairwell.

“Hey, it’s me.  I know you can’t answer right now but I’d really like us to do a Skype call tonight,” she sighs, “I understand if you’re not up for it, trust me, it’s just this whole long-distance thing seems to be getting more and more intense, and I just miss you.  And I know you miss me, too.  Oh and, don’t worry about the letter, just— take your time.”  A heavy sigh.  “I love you, Jim.  Bye.”

Managing to keep herself composed, she walks back upstairs, anticipating what the hell she has to log next.

“Please be seated,” Dwight gestures to an unenthused Ryan.  Suddenly—

“Who was that?”

“Pay no attention to the spirits that haunt this hallowed ground!”

“Is that your Cousin Mose?”

“…Yes.”

Ah, Mose Schrute.  Dwight’s first cousin and best friend; if things go well with Ryan, though, Dwight will have a new best friend.

Now Ryan is put to the test.

Question #1: What is the greatest danger facing Dunder Mifflin?
“Outsourcing and consolidation of competition.”

“Wrong.  Flash floods.”

Question #2: What is the true cause of Robert Mifflin’s suicide?
“Depression?”

“Wrong, he hated himself.”

Question #3: What is the DHARMA initiative?

Yeah, Dwight’s point about “others teaching you things” is difficult to take seriously when he is that teacher.

Kelly worries about Ryan’s safety (any rational person would), but Angela reassures Kelly while she stands by her man: Ryan is safe with Dwight.

“I don’t know,” Kelly argues, “Dwight’s so weird.”

“He’s not weird,” Angela points out, “he’s just… individualistic.”  Sure.

“No, he’s a freak,” Kelly says.

“You’re a freak!”  She storms off.

FINAL Question: What is Michael Scott’s greatest fear?
“Um, loneliness.  Maybe women.”

“Wrong.  He’s not afraid of anything.  Also, I would have accepted snakes.  Fear is what it’s all about.  You cannot sell while undergoing fear.  You need to VANQUISH fear!”  Again, not a bad takeaway if you really think about it.

Just because Dwight has a point doesn’t mean his methods are sensible.

When Ryan is asked to physically wrestle ‘Fear’ to the ground (portrayed by Mose), this is when he’s finally just done with the whole thing and walks out of the barn.  He has not passed the final test.

Ryan is both lost and frustrated.  A whole day, wasted.  This had nothing to do with sales calls, nothing to do with sales in general, and worst of all, he had to walk from a beet field to a barn.  Then it hits him: Dwight, this guy, this freak, is the best salesman of the company?  That goes to show that Dwight can’t change, he doesn’t need to change, the company does.  Now he’s getting a better idea of how this system works.

Mose thinks Ryan seemed nice.

As for Dwight, at the end of the day, all he wants is a team.

Karen and Jim call a truce.  Andy now has the squeaky chair.  He is not.  Happy.

With that out of the way, Karen can offer Jim something he needs and provide herself with a challenge, “Hey, Halpert.”

“Hm?” he turns halfway to face her.

“You got a sec?”

“I have approximately… three minutes before a client calls back.”

“Great.” Despite her confident smile, she’s shaking on the inside.

Jim’s not giving up the chair.

On the way back to work, Dwight — remorseful for his behavior — explains himself to Ryan, “It’s just Jim and I didn’t get along, and… I didn’t want it to be that way again.  Y’know, I wanted us to be a team.  An unstoppable team that competed against other teams.”
“Look, that, that’s not what I wanted, okay, I just wanted to… go on a sales call.”

And Ryan’s right.  He neither wants to be on any team nor can he be forced into one.  What Dwight doesn’t realize is that his dream team won’t be with Ryan.  It won’t be with Jim, either.  It’ll be with another junior salesman.  One who both speaks confidently and is willing to listen.  (As long as you don’t make him walk five miles to a barn.)

And then it hits Dwight: there was an actual sales call after the training.  Well done, Dwight.

‘Rock And Roll Part 2’ by Gary Glitter plays in Michael’s office.  Loudly.  (Kevin is the only one who sings along.)

And then Michael calls Mr. Koseli again.  More Cosby.

Pam logs it.

Dwight gives Ryan a crash course in what he’ll do during the rushed ride to the sales call, “Establish time frames.  Keep the phrase “real dollars” in their head.  And always keep the power in the conversation.  That’s why you’re losing them on the cold calls, ’cause you say the word please too much!”  Again, confidence.

“Wait, can you go back?”
“Michael always said, K.I.S.S., ‘Keep it Simple, Stupid.’  Great advice, hurts my feelings every time.”  He gets over it quickly, part of his D.N.A.

Now, Ryan’s ready.  He’s prepared.  He’s going to put in the effort.

Michael dances out of his office, the sugar in him rushing to help the office run more smoothly.  Pam notices, and everyone else can notice the caramel stain on his suit.  (It’s Pretzel Day, it’s worth it.)  Michael’s suggestions include: streamlining efficiency, accountability, reorganizing the room.  That’s about it.

Michael ends with this: “I think we’re getting a lot done, don’t you?  On paper, at least, and we are, after all, a paper company.  Are we not, are we not, are we not?  Are you with me, are you with me?  Thankyouverymuch!”

Pam logs it.

Ryan walks out, dejected, “They really didn’t like me.”

“They did not,” Dwight agrees vehemently, “They didn’t have to say it to your face.”  Oof.

I always feel more at home in Philadelphia than I ever do in Scranton.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty about Scranton that I like, love even.  But Philly?  Home of The 76ers?  The Phillies?  The Eagles?  Fairmount Park?  30th Street Station?  The scenery, the culture, the nightlife?  The cheesesteak?  Everything about the place just resonates with me.  It helps that I have family there; growing up, about once a year, we would take the train to visit my Dad’s family for either Thanksgiving or Christmas (we’d switch from year to year), and I got to bond with my uncle’s eldest Johnathan.  As much as I love Tom and Pete, their immaturity and constant teasing get old real quick; Larisa and I would constantly have to retaliate.  (At least it prepared me to deal with Michael and Dwight.)  I honestly consider Johnathan more of a ‘big brother’ figure: laid-back, confident, and an overall good person.  Someone I can relate to and also aspire to be.

If I were being honest, I wish I could live there someday, raise my kids there.  But hey, I already have one dream come true.  And said dream come true tells me to get my laptop so we can buy train tickets.

Yeah, that’s right, the woman I’ve fallen head over heels for wants us to spend a long weekend at my favorite city, traveling by train.

Did Dwight shove me in the fucking Matrix?  Because, if so, God bless him.

With her credit card information filled in and two tickets in the cart, a thought pops into my brain.  Yeah, this is my dream come true, but is this what she wants?

I turn to her, getting her attention away from my laptop.  “Pam, you don’t have to do this,” I reassure her.

“Yes, I do.”  She’s being sincere, I can tell.  “I’ve known nothing but Scranton my whole life.  I don’t even know where I want to travel.  I only wrote down ‘New York’ for our Plan B because it’s the most exciting place I can think of that’s close to Scranton.  This is the first opportunity I have to explore something new.  And I’m dragging you with me.”  She grabs my hands with hers, needing to be honest with me.  “Jan told me something during that Woman in the Workplace thing, something that stuck with me.  ‘There are always a million reasons not to do something’.”

We both stare at each other, remembering that awkward conversation from the same day.

“You got to take a chance on something sometime, Pam.  I mean, do you want to be a receptionist here, always?”

“Oh, excuse me!  I’m fine with my choices!”

“You are?”

“Yeah.”

I’m brought back to reality when she says the very sentence I wanted to hear from her that day.  “I’m finally taking a chance.”

We sit there, our hearts about to explode.  This is something she needs, something I’ve always wanted her to do for her.  I’m so damn proud of her.  I just… I have to know.  For certain.  “Are you sure?”

She nods as if she was never more sure of anything.

So I take my laptop from her, click ‘Confirm Purchase’, and the ‘Thank You’ message pops up.  I’ve never seen her happier.

Cue another full-on makeout sesh.

We don’t see each other for another two and a half weeks after she gets back the next day.  We keep in contact by phone and every piece of software we can find.  We schedule everything, even during work.  We make sure not to use company property (unless we’re that desperate), so we just decide on texting.  I have a longer lunch break, and God knows Michael doesn’t care.

She shows up on Tuesday night before our trip, and… goddamn.  She looks different, good different.  No frizzy hair, brighter lipstick, healthier skin.  Yet she’s still Pam.

“How do I look?”  I just gawk, unable to speak.  “Why thank you,” she responds with a hug and kiss as we giggle.  I knew she’d take it as the compliment it’s meant to be.

On the train the next morning, she says she’s never been on one and, as I hoped, she loves it.  She paid for the tickets, so I pay for the hotel room, four nights.  After we’re settled, I’m out of the shower when I make a horrifying realization.

I didn’t turn my laptop off last night before I packed it.

“Wait, is this Second Life?”  Aw, fuck.

I walk over to the bedroom, still wet with the towel around my waist, as she sits at her side of the bed.  “Who’s this?”

I stand next to her, “Oh, it’s just my avatar.  Guy.  Whatever.”

“He looks a lot like you,” she continues, “How much time did you spend on that?”

“Not much,” I lie.

“Right,” she doesn’t buy it, “Sportswriter from Philadelphia.  Obviously.”

“Yep.”

“Oh, you have a guitar slung on your back.  I didn’t know you played guitar!”

“Y’know, we got a lot to do tomorrow, so…” I inform her as I subtly attempt to take the computer.

She’s taking it back, giggling wildly as she says “No no no, I wanna see more of Philly Jim, I want Philly Jim!”  She wasn’t supposed to meet ‘Philly Jim’ until year three of our relationship at the earliest.

The Phillies are at Washington and Johnathan’s on an extended business trip, so those are a bust.  We do manage to have fun our first couple of days (the 8th being “Pam Day” and the 9th being “Jim Day”).  Today’s our last day, the 10th: “Lazy Day”.  Pam woke up at around seven reading The Old Man and the Sea while I’m still dead asleep on my side, next to her; I’m a light sleeper, so whenever I wake up, Pam uses her right hand to run her fingers through my hair to help me relax.  I couldn’t love this woman more if I tried.

I’m not 5 minutes back in dreamland when a loud alarm goes off at 8:00 AM.  “—!  Uhnn”

She sighs, “It’s my phone,” she clarifies, “Sorry about that.”

“’sokay,nowurries,” I mumble as I turn to my back.

“Yeah, I should remember to sile—” she’s frozen stiff.

I turn my head to her, wondering why she’s suddenly quiet, “Beesly?”  Still nothing.  Getting more alert, I sit up, scooch to her, and prop myself up.  “Bees, are you okay?”  After I wrap my arm around her shoulders, she finally exhales, so at least I know she’s physically okay.  I can tell she’s deep in thought, staring off, so I don’t press it.  I still gotta say something, though.  “Listen, you don’t have to talk to me right now.  Just know I’m right here if—”

“I was supposed to get married in four hours.”

…Oh, my God.

Today’s the reason I left.  The reason she turned me down.  The reason we even asked for paid vacations in the first place.  The reason why we’re even here right now.

The reason we’re together.

A month ago, I was dreading today.  Even with me not there, I tried to figure out how the hell I was going to deal with it, then suddenly everything became a dream that I never wanna wake up from.  This is only the second time I’ve seen her in person since we started dating, yet it doesn’t seem that way.  We’ve been so happy, so fulfilled, and it completely slipped my mind.  It slipped hers, too.  Now she’s dragged back.

She’s about to break down, trying to hide it.  It’s killing me seeing her like this, trying to not bring it up so I wouldn’t be uncomfortable.  Honestly?  Yeah, the subject does make me uncomfortable.  But the longest relationship I’ve ever had was just under ten months.  She’s been with Roy for just under ten years.  She knows of no other relationship besides him and me.  It kinda makes me scared that she’ll see I’m not good enough for her; I still wonder how the hell she thinks it’s the other way around.  While we’re happy now — we’ve never been happier — there’s still baggage we both need to let go of.

And right now, she’s in mourning.

“Hey…”  As I bring her to me, she instinctively clutches onto me, crying.  I stroke her hair, just doing my best to calm her down.

“I-I’m ss-o-rry-I—”

“Shhhh,” I whisper, “Don’t hide anything.  Just let it go.”  She’s crying even harder now.

She needs this.  I hate everything about what’s going on right now, but she needs this.  But to see her this broken over her ex, an ex that never even had to lay a hand on her to make her feel more and more dependent on him, all the while being neglected…

I wanna kick Roy’s ass.  (As if I didn’t want to before, what with that voodoo doll in my old bedroom that I threw away.)

She relaxes, then looks up at me, noticing she got tear stains on my pajama shirt.  “Sorry about that.”

I shake my head, giving her a playful shrug, “That’s why I brought two.”  She wants to chuckle at that, so that helps.

She looks away, ashamed, “This is so stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because this weekend’s been amazing and you’ve just been… you, and I’ve never been happier,” she takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself, “and now here I am breaking down over someone I don’t even love anymore.”

“Baby, look at me,” I gently turn her face so I can get through to her, “I-I can’t lie, I don’t wanna think about Roy right now.”  Dammit, Halpert, she’s about to cry again.  Dumbass.  “But,” I manage to stop it right in its tracks, “I’m not the one going through something.  You are.”

“I know, but—”

“This isn’t something you can rush.  It’s only been three weeks, you need time to process everything.”  Saying that made me consider something I haven’t before, a pang in my chest when I realize it.  “I made the mistake of not giving you the time you need.  I am not doing that to you ever again.”  I hold her tighter so she knows.  “I should’ve been here, to begin with.  I’m here now, Beesly, and I am not leaving.”

She responds with a “Thank you,” prepping her next sob.

All I can do is hold her and just let her cry some more.  At least she’s comforted now, she’s calming down.  Good.  After a bit, she shifts to look up at me, a loving smile growing on her lips.  She’s okay.  She’s okay.

And out of nowhere, she reaches around and starts kissing me, our bodies shifting so that I’m on my back, her on top of me.  Well, guess she’s feeling better now!

As we pull apart, she whispers “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”  With a peck on my forehead, she gets comfortable, head resting on my chest.  “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” she answers honestly, still wearing the smile, “but thank you.”

I return it.  “Are you sure?”  A nod.  “Not even this?” I then initiate a tickle fight, her finally laughing and enjoying herself, much to my relief.  Luckily, for me, I know all of her pressure points, but what I failed to take into account is that she knows all of mine as well.  Amid our war, I end up on top of her and…

The air shifts.  Heavy breaths, hungry eyes, hearts 500 beats per minute.  We’re at this point now.  I think we’re about to do… more.  I’m terrified out of my mind.

“Jim?” she barely whispers, her hand caressing my cheek.

Is this it?  “Y-yeah?” I whisper, not sure how this is gonna pan out.

All she does is give me a peck on the lips, whispering “Love me.”

And I do.

For the next hour and a half, our “Lazy Day” was everything but.

Sometime after, we get ourselves cleaned up (it takes us a while), change into some clean PJs, then snuggle and be annoyingly lovey-dovey until we start getting hungry.

It’s now 11:00 A.M. — an hour before Roy’s fiancé Pam Beesly was supposed to get married — and I’m here in a hotel room in Philly, eating yet another variant of a cheesesteak (this time from room service), watching a rerun of 24 and my girlfriend Pam Beesly is eating alongside me, lovingly telling me to get enough food in my system.  If you would have told me that this would happen four years ago, I’d be like “Yeah, I wish”.  Now it’s happening!  It’s actually fucking happening!

And now, I’m… me.  I’m more ‘me’ than I have been in a long, long time.

Well, Ryan, congratulations.  You won your bet.  I’m spending a nice weekend in Philadelphia, as you astutely suspected.  A very nice weekend.  Be sure to keep the desk tidy while I’m gone.  Oh, and uh, mind the Schrute fingernails.

3.06 Diwali

“There you go.”  Kelly is dressing Ryan in his sharpest-looking kurta for a special event tonight.

Michael can’t help but let out a small laugh, “Nice dress, Ryan.”

“It’s not a dress,” Kelly clarifies, “It’s a kurta.”

“O-okay,” Michael keeps laughing.  He respects all cultures and walks of life.

“Tonight, one of our most ethnic co-workers, Kelly,” Michael begins to the doc crew as eloquently as possible, “has invited us all to a Diwali celebration put on by her community.  What is Diwali, you may ask?  Well, to have Kelly explain it,” he impersonates, “‘It’s a— uh, blah blah blah, it’s so super fun and it’s going to be great.’”  The sad part is he’s not too far off.  “Lot of gods with unpronounceable names.  Twenty minutes later you find out that it is essentially a Hindu Halloween.”

Michael respects all cultures and walks of life.

Footage from earlier presents Michael and Kelly bringing it up to Jan.  She found it to be a great idea, mentioning the importance of celebrating the company’s rich diversity amongst its staff members; she regrets that Michael didn’t call sooner so the company could charter a bus or even be a sponsor to the event (It’s always something).  He says it’s a bit much for Kelly.

“She’s so wonderful,” Kelly said.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, “you should see her naked.”

Cut back to the present, “You look so handsome,” she tells Ryan.

“You really do,” Pam compliments, “I love the material.”

“I know.”

After a quick, pathetic glance from Ryan to the camera, Michael’s now upset he didn’t get one after insulting it not 20 seconds ago.  Aw.

Later, in the conference room, Phyllis divvies people so they can all have a ride; as she’s talking, Pam sees her cell ring and, with an annoyed face, hangs up.  “Okay, so, between Meredith’s mini-van and if I borrow Bob’s Yukon,” Phyllis charts, “that should fit about twelve people.”

“I actually… might not go,” Pam laments to the others, “Feeling kind of tired.”  Meredith offers to take her to Appletini’s and watch Sex and the City at her place; Pam hasn’t decided yet.

Later, back at reception, Kelly begs Pam to go, asking her what she did wrong.  She reuses her excuse, and Dwight adds she might have mono.  The real reason?  She doesn’t have a plus one.

She just wants him home.

“Well, go with Dwight,” Kelly offers, “He’s single, too.  Right?”

“Yeah,” he claims, “totally single.  Hundred percent available.”  Angela, peering from her cubicle, watches on in remorse.

Kevin asks everyone in the breakroom who’s going to Diwali, and Roy, all too curious, asks who’s going.

Kevin’s enjoying this, “Do you mean like, is Pam going?”  Though Roy’s face is unchanging, he’s shaking on the inside.

“Don’t go,” Angela advises, “They eat monkey brains.”

“Hey.  Hey.  Hey, stop that,” Michael chastises, “That is offensive, Indians do not eat monkey brains.”  He enunciates what he’s saying to sound more offended than he actially is.  “And if they do… sign me up!  Because I am sure that they are very tasty and nutritional.”  He makes a point about celebrating diversity, and tells Stanley he’s got him covered for Kwanza, which Stanley doesn’t celebrate.  Michael thinks he should, it’s fun!

“I love the people here,” Michael makes a point to the crew, “And if there was one thing I di— don’t really care for is that they can be terribly, terribly ignorant about other cultures.  And I don’t want them embarrassing me in front of my girlfriend, Carol.”

Michael respects all cultures and walks of life.

In the conference room (because it’s always the conference room), Michael invites Kelly to discuss Diwali further.

“Um… Diwali is awesome,” Kelly begins, “and there’s food, and there’s going to be dancing, and— Oh!  I  got the raddest outfit.  It has, um…”
“Kelly?”
“sparkles…”

Michael wants her to give a lesson, “Um, why don’t you tell us a little bit about the origins of the holiday.”

“Oh, u-um… I don’t know, it’s really old, I think.”

“How many gods do you have?” the devout Christian Angela snidely remarks.  She points at the “blue busty gal,” who — according to Kevin — looks like Pam from the waist down.

“Pam wishes,” Dwight comments, which somehow gets a small laugh in agreement from everyone else, Pam looking at the camera in exasperation.  I’m in the damn room!

Michael allows Dwight to take the reins, “Diwali is a celebration of the coronation of the God-King Rama, after his epic battle with Ravana, the Demon King of Lanka.  It symbolizes the battle between good and evil—”
“This isn’t Lord of the Rings.”

Michael respects all cultures and walks of life.

Meanwhile, in Stamford, Jim has started biking to work, as is revealed when he accidentally knocks the bike into the chair by Andy’s desk.  He is nonplussed.

Jim elaborates to the crew, “Josh does it and he lives a lot farther away than I do.”  Cue footage of Josh Porter entering the office, looking like he just came home after the Tour de France.  “And also it saves gas money, keeps me in shape, helps the environment… and now I know it makes me really sweaty for work,” he smirks as the realization hits him.

Jim texts Pam on the way to his desk.  “Texting on the clock?” Karen jokes, “I’m ashamed, Halpert.”

Jim smiles, hiding his frustrations, “Yup, I have gone full-on corrupt.”

“It was only a matter of time,” Karen quips.  As she gets to work, the camera pans back out to show Jim doing the same, sighing through his nose in frustration, continuing to chastise himself.

He just wants to go home.

“Now, a lot of people say that Kelly is one in a million and that’s true,” Michael continues in the conference room, but it’s also not true.  Because, frankly, there are literally billions of people just like Kelly in the world.”  Profound.

He sites some famous Indian figures throughout history, including:
— Nobel prize-winning physicist Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar.  (Pam’s shocked he found a good example.)
— Kwik-E-Mart store runner Apu Nahasapeemapetilon of The Simpsons.  (Kevin likes him, he’s funny.)
— World-famous director M. Night Shyamalan.  (Dwight spoils The Sixth Sense to his coworkers.)
— Michael and Carol kissing— “Oh, whoa!” Michael laughs in ‘shock,’ “Where did that come from?”

Not only does Michael respect all cultures and walks of life, but he’s also a class act to boot.

As Jim continues to work his frustrations away, fellow Sales Representative Tony Gardner asks Karen for a favor, “Karen, my chips got stuck in the vending machine again.  I need your skinny, little arms.”

“Oh,” Karen agrees to help, “Did you shake it?” she whispers.

“Yeah, I shook it, I shook it,” he whispers back.

Naturally, this gives Andy time to BS as he tells Jim about his and Karen’s “history”, “We have such a roller coaster thing, Karen and I.”

Um, “’Scuse me?”

“Roller-coastery friendship.  Hot, cold.  On again, off again, sexual tension-filled type of deal.”  Hm, fascinating.  “It’s very Sam and Diane.”

Jim doesn’t know how to respond to this but “Wow.”
“From Cheers.”
“Yup.”  God, I need a drink.

Michael managed to find, of all things, the Kama Sutra, that he hands to everyone in the office.  While Creed, Kevin, and Meredith are getting into it, Angela finds it offensive and doesn’t want to see it (with a subtle jab at Kelly to boot); Toby agrees with her, collecting them, much to Michael’s chagrin.

Michael laments to the crew, “My Indian Culture Seminar was going great until Toby decided that he was too immature to deal with culturally explicit images.”  Yeah, that’s what happened.  “It’s just sex, people, everybody does it!  I’m doing it… with Carol!  Probably tonight.”  Again, class act.

Josh, leaving his office with his bike, hands Karen the company card for the salespeople to grab dinner since they’ll be staying late.  Jim explains why to the crew, “Once a quarter, the sales staff at this branch has to stay late to do order form consolidation… which, amazingly, is even less interesting than it sounds.”

After telling Karen to keep it at $20 per person, Josh departs; she flashes a knowing grin at Jim, who smiles back.

With a Stamford Smile.

He’s used it for a while now, but no one’s caught it yet, not even Karen.

“You guys ready to party?” Andy asks.

The two other sales reps look up from their monitors.  “What’s that?” Jim asks.

“I said…” and, out of nowhere, Andy pulls out three shot glasses and some Jägermeister, “are you ready to PAH-TAY!”  He shows them off with a very Bernard grin.

Jim’s face remains stoic as he raises his eyebrows.

He wants in.

Diwali is in full swing when the office staff arrives, shoeless (Angela does not approve).  And in comes Carol and Michael in Halloween costumes.

“I thought you said this was a costume party!” she chastises in her cheerleader costume.

Michael, sporting his papier-mâché head from the year before, points a woman out, “What does that look like to you?”

“An Indian woman in a sari,” Carol answers, already annoyed.

Michael assures her that no one will even notice until Kevin walks by and calls it an outfit, to which Michael has to clarify it’s a costume.  Carol’s patience is tried.

After Angela asks what is vegetarian, which is everything (she just takes some naan bread instead), Michael can’t help but find the food gross as he spits it out.

“What?  Too spicy?” Carol asks.

“No.  These s’mores are disgusting.”

“They’re not s’mores, they’re samosas.”

“…Do you think they have any s’mores?”

Michael respects all cultures and walks of life.

Elsewhere, Kelly’s parents tell her they don’t approve of Ryan, since he’s a temporary worker that doesn’t make enough money, and they have a better option lined up for her.  (Listen to your parents, Kelly, they have a point.)  To add insult to injury, Kelly’s sisters laugh at Ryan, calling him ‘Zach Braff’.  An admittedly apt comparison.

Pam decides to come after all, though she feels a little underdressed.  “But at least I’m not dressed like a slutty cheerleader, right? …Is that mean?”  Carol was thankfully out of earshot.

Dwight arrives in his own kurta.  Angela, naturally, is not happy.

At the very least, Michael is getting into the festivities.  This makes Carol smile, but she quickly becomes pensive.

Hey, Big Tuna, you ready?” Andy asks.

“Yep,” Jim answers.

“One… Two…. Three… Shot!”  The first shot is taken, with all of them shaken to their cores.

Jim turns to Karen, “Oh, Holy Mother of God.”  Wow, I needed this.

“Oh, that burns!” Andy shouts, “Golly.  Mm.”

Karen seems relatively unphased despite her facial expressions.  That’s because the drink is in the trash bin and not her system.

Jim and Andy will pay for this later.

Pam is dancing with a cute Indian guy, enjoying herself, in walks… Roy.  As soon as he sees her with him, he walks back out, dejected.

This won’t be the last time he does that.

Meanwhile, Michael has a lovely chat with Kelly’s parents, “Wow, thirty years?  And you two only met once before the wedding night?”

“Yes,” Mr. Kapoor answers.

“Wow.”

“How long have you been married to the cheerleader?”

Michael notices Carol dancing, “Oh!  She’s not a cheerleader, she thought this was a costume party!”  Yeah, that’s what happened.  “Um… no, we’re not married… yet!”

“She is very fair,” Mrs. Kapoor compliments.

“She is.  Very fair and very kind.”  That genuinely sweet statement is quickly followed by this one, “So, um, tell me, is your marriage the kind of thing where when you die she has to throw herself on a fire?”  They shake their heads.  “No?  Okay.  It’s still very cool.”  Carol walks by and gets him on the dance floor, a smart move.  “Okay.  Thanks!”

Michael respects all cultur

“One… Two…. Three… Shot!” Andy announces yet again.

Karen’s drink is in the trash bin and not her system yet again.

Jim and Andy will pay for this later.

When Carol and Ryan meet for the first time, he discovers that Michael has a very intense liking to him.  He’s not surprised by this, but naturally he’s had to find out from Michael’s own girlfriend.  He wishes he can just disappear.

Back at the dance floor, Michael keeps staring at Kelly’s parents, a bad idea forming in his head.

“Are you okay?” Carol comes by and asks him, concerned.

“I’m gonna be.”

And here comes the bad idea: “Um, everyone?” Michael addresses the crowd from the stage, mic in hand, “Sorry.  I just have an announcement to make.”  Ryan really wants to disappear.  “Um, okay.  I have learned a lot about Indian culture tonight.  But I have learned even more about… love.”  Oh no.  “And I know you’re all thinking ‘Who is this crazy gringo and what is he talking about?’  Well, I’m not crazy.  Maybe I’m crazy in love.”  No no no.  “So, without further ado… Carol?  Carol Stills.  I would like you to do me the honor of making me your husband.”

Pam’s reaction, once again, says it all.

The crowd is touched by this.  Carol, suffice it to say, is not.  “…Oh, Michael.”

“What do you say?”  The sad, sad man.

She attempts to handle this as delicately as possible, “Can we talk about this in private?”

“I didn’t hear you,” he laughs.

“Can we talk about this in private?”  She has to repeat herself louder to get through to him.

And then it hits him.  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me, okay,” he mumbles as he drops the mic.

Then the awkward conversation moves outside, “No, I get it, I get it,” he tells Carol, not getting it, “You’re not ready.  We’ll wait.  This is a classic—”

“This is the ninth date, Michael.”

“Yeah, well, but I… I feel like I’ve known you many lifetimes.”  No, you haven’t.  “Maybe I’m Hindu after all. …Okay, I’m not… Hindu, but… Carol.  Carol.”  She hears him out.  “I just… I feel like… I just like you so much.”  She’s well aware.

“I better go.  Okay, you can find a way home, all right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay… okay.  Good night.”  He doesn’t know when to quit.  “Hey, you know what?  Why don’t I come with you?  ’Cause I’ve got this book called the Kama Sutra.”
“Okay, good night, Michael.”
“All right…  Good night!”

Back inside, Ryan decides to flaunt himself in front of Kelly’s parents.  Big mistake.  “Well, I was a temp, but I got promoted.  So, um… the compensation is a lot more competitive.”

Mrs. Kapoor is impressed, “So you’re saving money”
“Yes.”
“to start a family and home.”

He’s quick on his feet, “Oh, um, or travel.  And, um, and buy an Xbox.”

They’re curious, “Is there anything you wanted to ask us tonight?” Mr. Kapoor asks.

Ryan desperately wants to disappear.

After failing to talk to the guy she danced with earlier, Pam exists the auditorium briefly to text Jim, hoping to hear from him.  She sees Angela, slowly chewing on the naan bread.

“It’s hot in there,” Pam tells her.  More chewing.  “How’s the naan?”

“Dry,” Angela replies emotionlessly, “You look like you were having fun.”

“I am.”  Kinda.  “You should come dance with us.”

“I have to watch our shoes so they don’t get stolen.”  Angela noticed something earlier.  “Who were you texting?”

Oh, God.  “No one,” she answers, walking back inside and still texting.

Angela still looks at Pam as she departs.

Unsurprisingly, Jim and Andy are both drunk off their asses.  So drunk that a sleepy Jim doesn’t even notice his phone vibrating.

Naturally, Andy starts singing some Indio Girls, lying on the floor, “Wwen’ doo de doctorr.  I wwen’-doo de mountainns.  I looked to the children—”
“Andy, no acapella.”  Karen’s not a fan.

“…I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain.”

Enter Jim, mumbling the lyrics.

“Wait, wait,” Andy stops him, beginning an epic duet.  Andy puts his all into it, while Jim just mumbles more lyrics.  It ends up waking Jim, with an exuberant Andy complimenting his pipes, “TUNA!  Are you kidding me?!”

Karen’s still not a fan.

A dejected Michael sits on the stairs of the building, eating more Indian food (and choking on it).  Pam walks outside to join him, handing him a drink; she keeps checking her phone.  I wouldn’t answer either…

“Oh,” Michael notices, “You waiting for a call?”

“Uh… no,” she lies.  Michael laments to her how they’re both victims of broken engagements (though he was never engaged but rather “that marriage arena”), And after a mutual sigh, Pam reveals her biggest regret, “I kind of thought something would happen tonight too.”

“We’re so alike,” he comments, “So alike…” and he leans in to kiss her.

Michael!  “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” he parrots.

“I’m rejecting”
“I’m”
“your”
“what?”
“kiss.”

“I didn’t…” he attempts to scoff it off, to no avail.  After a good bit of awkward silence, he humbly asks, “Can I have a ride home?”

GOD.  “If you sit in the back.”

As Karen departs, Jim asks Andy for a ride home, but unfortunately, Andy can’t but he did come prepared: an inflatable mattress!  So Jim, in all his infinite wisdom, decides to try the bike anyway

*clang!* “…Uhh.”

and falls straight into a bush.

Thankfully, Karen catches him before the police do, “Hey dummy, get in the car!” she shouts at him with a smile.

“’m a drunk driver,” Jim states far too casually.

“Yes, you are,” she hurriedly but happily alleviates the situation, “Here.  Let me take that,” she grabs the bike, “Just… uh… get in the car.”

Jim continues to not know what planet he’s on, “Man, you can really hold your liquor, ‘Billabelli’.”

“Yeah, you can’t.”

“No kidding,” he stumbles to the back of her SUV, “And I… am just going to lie down in the back, if that’s all right.”

“Sure.  Here’s your bag,” she hands it to her, “Just don’t puke on anything.”  She walks back to the front seat.  “You okay?”

“I miss Pam.”

Karen pauses for a split second, not expecting the reveal of information she’s probably not supposed to know.  She turns to look at him and takes an educated guess, “I-is that your girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” he deadpans.

She quickly scrambles to think of something, “I’m sure you’ll get to see her again soon.”

“Yeah.”  Same delivery.

She takes a breath, shaking off what just happened, and drives him back.

A very pissed-off Pam is pulling into Michael’s neighborhood to drop him off.

He makes a discovery, “These are not my shoes,” he says through a sigh.  Why me, God?  He chuckles, “This is just like that show Taxi Cab Confessions—”

“We’re here,” she curtly states, “Get out.”

“All right,” as he gets off the cab he says, “‘Tank you, tank you’” in his best Lawrence Welk.

“Sure.”

“Well, see you in the morning!” he shuts the door.

“You probably won’t,” she says, making sure he’s out of earshot.  He won’t.

She’s about to hit the gas out of here… when she gets a voicemail.

[“Hey, Beeezz,”] a drunken Jim greets.  She sighs in relief.  [“Listen, I am… super drunk right now but no worries, I’m home safe, I’ll talk’bout it later, but I have some things I need t’say now.]
She nods her head.

[“I read your text messages, and I went straight voicemail because I wanna be sober next time we talk.]
She moves her head as if to say ‘Smart.’

[“I’m sorry for a lot of things.  I accidentally told Karen your name, I— the fight last night, all the not calling as much ’n all that, i-it hasn’t been easy for either of us, but… I’m just sorry.]
Her eyes are getting misty.

[“I don’t wan’ us to live in Stamford, either.  Karen’s great, but… every time I walk in there I’m reminded of where I went wrong.  And I really tried to find other jobs, y’know?  Johnathan doesn’t have any openings and ther’s nothing nearby so I’m just stuck here.  Even though I just wanna go back home.]
“Me, too,” she thinks out loud.

[“But I can’t because that’ll mean a demotion.  I’ll lose all the clients, benefits, and… I’ll be giving up, and I don’t wanna do that.]
She continues to talk like he can hear her, “Jim, that’s not—”

[“I just… I already let you down once.  I won’t do that again.]
Tears threaten her eyes as she shakes her head ‘no’ at that emphatically.

[“…But I just m-miss you.  And I don’t wanna be al-lone anymore.]
She quietly breaks down, not unlike the time she claimed to be fine with her choices.

[“I’m *sniffle* ’m taking the day off tomorrow.  Then you and I can talk wheneeever you want.]
She breathes out, getting herself in check.

[“That’s it, I’ll go.  I lo—”] and the timer runs out.

She immediately calls him back, hoping that they get in touch.  [“Oh’ey.”]  Though he’s more coherent, he’s still coming down from the buzz.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I-I miss you too,” she answers, attempting to conceal her tears.

[“Hey… don’ cry.”]

“I-I’ll stop,” she reassures, getting herself composed, “I’m taking the day off tomorrow.  I’m driving over there early, and-and I’m leaving late.”

[“Pam, you don’t have t—”]

“And you can’t stop me, Halpert,” she starts to smile, “So suck it.”

He sighs, [“So demanding, Beesly.”]  He lightly laughs as she giggles alongside him.  [“We’ll be okay.”]

“Yeah,” she agrees, “We’ll be okay.”  Her tears are finally gone.

We’ll be okay.
We’ll be okay.

Cue footage from earlier that night, where Michael performs a beautiful melody, alongside Dwight with his guitar.

“This is going out to Indians everywhere.  It’s a tribute to one of the greats.  Mr. Adam Sandler.”  He begins his performance, “Diwaaliii iss a feistival of lights.  Let me tell you something, tonight has been one craaazy niiight… So put on your saris, it’s time to celebrate Diwali. / Everybody looks so jolly, but it’s not Christmas, it’s Diwali.

“The goddess of destruction Kali stopped by toh cehlehbrate Diwahlii!
It’s the next morning.  Karen sits at her desk, doing her work as usual, and the camera pans to the right to reveal Jim’s empty desk.

“Don’t invite any zombies to a cehlehbratiohn ooof Dih-wah-liii!
Around the same time, Angela walks by the copier, noticing the reception desk, also empty.

“Alooohng caaame Pollyyyh to hahve some fun aht Diwhaleeh! / If you’re Indian andyou looohve to pahrtayyy, have a hah-ppeh, hah-ppeh,
Around the same time, a messy-haired, hungover Jim answers the door to find Pam; they quickly wrap their arms around each other, her ear pressed to his chest as he kisses the top of her head.  They smile.

“hah-ppeh, hah-ppeh Diw-aah-leeeh!  Happy Diwali!”

Michael’s beautiful tribute was met with a round of applause.

Ryan, trying to clap in support, attempts to disappear and fails.

Y’know that old cliche, “I look back and I ask myself, ‘how did I get here?’”

Yeah, that’s me right now.  I’m on a train back to Stamford with Jim Halpert, the man I’m falling more in love with by the day, right after we had our first getaway, his arm around me, the two of us being sickeningly cute together.  How did I get here?

Casino Night happens.  I’m too damn weak to tell him how to feel, ending with him walking away, holding back becoming a sobbing mess as he quietly says “Okay” and leaves.  (I’m just relieved I can look at it now as a pitfall, rather than my final chance.)  I was so sad, so heartbroken, so afraid to accept the truth…

…And then I harshly tell Roy that same truth not two hours after and we break up.  Confess to Jim that I’m in love with him in the middle of the night a week later (after he had already transferred).  Drive three hours to his new place in Stamford so we can talk through our insecurities, fall in love, and eat sandwiches.  Convince him to stay put so we can make a better future for ourselves.  Spend the night at his place.  Buy round-trip tickets to Philadelphia for our first getaway the next morning.  We’re surviving and thriving a long-distance relationship, three weeks strong.  And, on top of all that, we… and when I was supposed to get married.

Not to mention the fact that so many moments we shared are being recreated, almost by fate.  When I said I’m finally taking a chance when I bought the tickets: Women in the Workplace.  We went ice skating this past Friday: Michael’s birthday.  ‘Islands in the Stream’ playing in the cab on our way to dinner Saturday: Jim’s barbecue.

But I’m too exhausted to dwell on all that right now since we… yeah.  Deciding to nap on the ride home, I go ahead and lean on his shoulder, take a deep breath to relax: Diversity Day.  Since Jim needs his music, he gets his iPod and hands me an earbud: the fireworks.  “Y’know,” he quietly tells me, “if there weren’t people here, I’d cordially ask if you would like to sway with me.”

I roll my eyes, failing to hide my smile, “I’m not dancing in the middle of a passenger train.”

“There’s a difference between the two.”  He was joking, obviously, but I can sense the remorse.

I hold his hand and look at him, sincerely.  “There wasn’t that night.”

He wants to explain himself, “Look, about what I sai—”

“Forgive and forget.”  I kiss him on the cheek.

He’s feeling better, much to my relief.  “You make it look so easy.”

“It’s so not, Jim,” I’m honest, “It helps when you’re with me.”

“Likewise.”  He’s finally relaxed.  He’s not at peace yet, neither am I.  We’re getting there.

He presses shuffle on his iPod as he looks out the window to daydream, enjoying the scenery.  As the synth chords start, a Yazoo song of all things helps me connect the dots as to how I got here.

Looking from a window above
It’s like a story of love
Can you hear me?

I gave Jim all the signs.  He knows, he always knew, because he gave me his own.  We could have been the office’s Romeo and Juliet.  I don’t want to acknowledge the signs were even there.
So I lie.

Came back only yesterday
I’m moving farther away
Want you near me

I’m at my desk the next morning, and Kelly breaks the news to me.  I shatter.  I want to leave, want to be as far away from that desk as I possibly can be, but I’m stuck.
I just want him back.

All I needed was the love you gave
All I needed for another day
And all I ever knew… Only you

My brain suddenly creates a ‘what if’.  I tell him I’m in love with him right in that parking lot, and I call Roy to end it.  After I hang up, Jim stands there, having no idea what to say.  Then I hug him, hold him as tight as I can, and, thank God, he starts holding me too.  Neither of us hasn’t the slightest idea what to do next, but it doesn’t matter right now, because he loves me.  His love was all I needed.
It’s all I’ve ever known.

Sometimes when I think of her name
When it’s only a game
And I need you

After Roy drives off, Jim lays it all on the line, hoping that this was more than friendship.  Nah.  Just misinterpretation.  Just us being friends.  Just a game of poker.  Nothing more.  He still needs me to know, if only once.
He needs me.

Listen to the words that you say
It’s getting harder to stay
When I see you

“What?”  “What are you doing?”  “What do you expect me to say to that?”  “I… I can’t.”  “You have no idea what your friendship means to me.”  “I’m sorry that you misinterpreted things, it’s probably my fault.”  These are the words that make him not even want to look me in the eye anymore.  The words tempt him to move away, the words push him to say ‘yes’.
The words force him to leave.

Two choruses and an instrumental, and another ‘what if’ is created.  As he starts to walk away, I drop the ring, loud enough for him to hear it *clang* on the carpet floor.  He turns around, I run into his arms, and I break down as I tell him I love him back, but we — again — haven’t the slightest idea what to do next, how to handle any of this, what to tell Roy.  He sits us down and I’m on his lap, him holding and shushing me for a while.  “Everything’s gonna be fine.”  I believe him.

This is gonna take a long time
And I wonder what’s mine
Can’t take no more (Can’t take no more)

“You wanna know what I regret, Pam?  The past nine years of my life!”  I fear I made a mistake telling Roy the truth, the whole truth… then I hear those words.  They start all of this.  He causes all of this.  Because now I want to let go of all that pent-up regret.  I don’t want it anymore.
I can’t take it anymore.

Wonder if you’ll understand
It’s just the touch of your hand
Behind a closed door

“Me too.”  Jim assumes I’m being honest, that I’m finally acknowledging what I was thinking, what I was feeling.  I am… but I lie again.  He slowly lets go of my hands and walks away.  He leaves Scranton.
He’s gone.

All I needed was the love you gave
All I needed for another day
And all I ever knew (All I ever knew)
Only you…

One last ‘what if’: Jim’s there the next day.  The whole office could be there for all I’d care, I walk into that office, kiss him, tell him I don’t have a fiancé anymore, and we walk out, hands held tightly.  Some sort of climactic exit like that.

For years I wasted time trying to deny how I felt, being stuck in a mistake of a relationship, seeing him wanting more, me trying desperately to prove him wrong until I just couldn’t anymore.  I am in love with him.  He’s the only one I’ve ever met, I’ve ever known, who understands me.  It was always him.
Only him.

That’s how I got here.

I’m reading a lot into it, projecting even.  It’s a breakup song, yeah, but it’s not about my life.  Everything’s fine now.  But even then, I have to hug his right arm, even though I don’t have to.  He’s right next to you, Pam.  Get a grip.

He notices I’m uneasy because he can tell like that, and he kisses the top of my head.  We both give each other light smiles as I close my eyes and the song fades.

The next song is Coldplay’s ‘The Scientist’.  He presses skip as quickly as he can.  The song after that manages to lull me to sleep.

We have a much-needed conversation the evening after we get back.  Jim’s in the bathroom shaving, clad only in a towel, while I’m lying on his bed, still dressed.  “I mean, it’s your choice, Beesly,” Jim tells me through the open door, “I’m not making you do anything.”

“I appreciate that,” I assure, “but I’m too conflicted.”

“Well, pros and cons.”

“Oh, right, duh,” I say, “Pro: I get to see you every day for six days.  Con: You’ll be at work for eight hours five of those days.”

“Yeah.  Oh, pro: sightseeing.  Getting used to Stamford.”

“Well, the con is that you won’t be with me because you’ll be tired after work so you won’t wanna do anything.”

“You are not wrong,” he admits while watering his face.

A thought suddenly occurs to me, “I think… I think it’s best if I do leave.”

“What makes you say that?” he asks as he exits the bathroom, not offended, just curious.

“Beyond the cons, I kinda need some time to myself?”  I start to panic.  “Not that I don’t wanna be with you, and we spend enough time apart as it is, it’s just—”

“I get it,” he lovingly assures, laying next to me, “You just need some time to yourself.  I kinda need it, to be honest.”

“Yeah, this weekend’s been fantastic, but it’s also been a lot.”

“It has for me, too.”  He pulls me towards him as I lazily wrap my arm around him, head on his chest.  “Beesly, I have never, in my entire life, would believe something like the past weekend could happen.”  He’s making my heart flutter so much that I actually think the phrase ‘he’s making my heart flutter’.  “Just,” he kisses my cheek, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I sigh, “I wish I wasn’t such a wreck yesterday.”

“Pam, you’re going through a lot of changes right now,” he mentions, “I mean, you have changed so much.  For the better.”

I’m puzzled.  Me?  Change?  “How so?”

“I mean, you’re more confident and assertive and outspoken,” he compliments, “And yet you’re still… you,” he shakes his head in disbelief, “You can do so much better.”

With that last sentence, he takes me right back to that train, when I’m listening to that song, reliving everything that’s happened.  Because he’s right, I did change.  A lot.  And he doesn’t even know why.

“Jim,” I hold his cheek, “I’ve changed for the better because of you,” I explain quietly, “If you didn’t say anything, I could’ve married him.  When you said that, you couldn’t hide how you felt anymore, and as hard as I tried, you knew I couldn’t either.  And you pushed me to admit that to myself.  Like I said, you woke me up.  I’ve said and done so many things to you that I regret… and I’m done putting both of us through that.”  Both of our eyes are glassy as we kiss, both of us thankful that we can do this without having to hide.  “Thank you.”

He suddenly clutches me once again, his arms around me, and I do the same.  “Thank you,” he whispers, getting himself composed.

And now I sigh, “God, I just— I don’t wanna leave.”

“I don’t want you to,” he holds me tighter, “I’m gonna miss you.”  Dammit, Jim, stop trying to make me cry!

“I’m gonna miss you.”  We lay there and hold each other for what feels like forever.  Though the whole Stamford thing feels like it’ll be forever, it won’t.  I know that.  So I have to say it for the both of us, “This won’t be forever.”

“We’ll make sure it won’t,” he reassures, kissing the top of my head.  A thought then crosses his mind, “Well, we still have some time to say ‘goodbye’ before tomorrow.”

We pull apart slightly, and I ask, “What do you mean by that?”

He smirks, “You know…”  And there it is.

I shake my head, “You just took your shower.”

“I can always take another one,” he posits, “besides, you haven’t taken yours yet.”

“A compelling argument, Halpert.”

“Not bad for someone who dropped Debate in college.”

The last words I say before we ‘say goodbye’ are “You’re such a dork…”

As I drive home the next morning, I call Penny to tell her.  [“Okay, first of all, thank.  God.”]

She can practically hear me roll my eyes through the phone, “Gee, thanks.”

She laughs, [“I kid.  Seriously, though, I’m really proud of you.  I can tell how happy you were the past three weeks, and now it makes sense.”]

“Yeah.”  I am, I really am.

[“I’d say I can’t wait to meet the guy, but I feel like I already know him at this point.”]

My heart swells, “Yeah, you probably do.”

[“So who else did you tell?”]

“He called his family and friends yesterday.  I just told Dad, still need to tell Izzy and Jocelyn.”

[“Gotcha,”] she pauses, [“I noticed you left someone out?”]

“I know,” I sigh, “I still need to prepare.”

She snickers at that, [“You need to tell her at some point, Pam.”]

“Pen, you know full well how Mom’s gonna react,” I push, “She’s gonna want to be told everything, down to the last detail.  She’ll be worse than Kelly.”

[“Your coworker?”]

“Yup.”

[“Well, I’m sure the whole office will be very supportive if y—”]

“Oh, hell no,” I stop that right in its tracks.  And now she’s laughing at my pain.  Damn you, Penelope Beesly, for putting that thought in my brain.

[“You’re no fun!”] she jokes through her laugh.

“And you’re on thin ice,” I joke back, unable to hide my chuckle.

[“Did Roy ever find out?”]

I was afraid he’d come up.  “He doesn’t even know I’m seeing someone.”

[“I’m guessing you won’t tell him, either?”]

“Hopefully he’ll never find out.”

[“Honey, it’s sweet that you still care about Roy,”] she starts, [“but if you don’t tell him, someone will.  Be it Joyce or Mom or, heck, maybe one of your coworkers.  You and Jim worked in the same building for years, after all.”]

“True.”

[“You can’t spare Roy’s feelings anymore.  He just… needs to accept it.”]

I shake my head, my sympathy for the man evident as I ask, “Have you seen his mugshot?”

There’s silence before she lovingly presses me to do something like she always does.  [“Pam, I want you to tell me, right now, that you know you’re not responsible for Roy’s actions.”]

I take a deep breath as it comes out, “I know I am not responsible for Roy’s actions.”

[“Feel better?”] she asks.

“…Yeah.”  I do, I really do.

3.07 “Branch Closing”

It’s around 7:50 in the morning when Karen walks in and greets Jim.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

She becomes curious, “Who are you faxing so early in the morning?”

“Oh, um…” he tries to come up with a reasonable explanation, “kinda hard to explain.”  She accepts that and walks to her desk.

“I don’t have a ton of contact with the Scranton branch, aside from, y’know,” Jim explains to the doc crew, “But before I left, I took a box of Dwight’s stationery.  So, from time to time, I send Dwight faxes.  From himself.  From the future.”  Old habits.

Jim reads the fax aloud to the crew

offscreen, as Dwight grabs it from the fax machine.

“‘Dwight, at 8 A.M. today, someone poisons the coffee.  Do not drink the coffee.  More instructions will follow.  Cordially, Future Dwight.’”

And, seeing Stanley walk out of the kitchen with his morning coffee, he knew exactly what to do next.

Running over, yelling a “Noo—!” he knocks a confused and pissed off Stanley’s coffee mug from his hand.  “You’ll thank me later.”

It’s happened.

It’s come to this.

Anyone with working eyes could see it a mile away.

It’s something that Jan’s been trying to prevent for weeks, but even she can’t prevent the inevitable.

She has to deliver the news, and she’s dreading it.

Not for her idiot ex, not for that ass in Stamford, not for that maniac who owns a beet farm and will be fine if he gets laid off.  But for the honest workers who put in the time, the ones who might not even afford to move, the ones that had to suffer for her idiot ex’s mistakes.  For the company’s mistakes.  For her mistakes.

And then there’s the two of them.
The couple who trusted her to alleviate David’s justifiable suspicions.
The couple she trusts won’t make the same mistakes she made.
The couple that gives her hope that, yeah, maybe she can have it all.

They have to go through even more hurdles because of the closing, and that’s what she’s dreading the most.

And, of course, the first person she has to break it to right after Toby, is her idiot ex.

God, today’s gonna suck.

“There she is,” Michael greets Jan as she enters his office, “Jan Levinson.  First”
“Michael.”
“…thing in the morning.  Love to start my morning with a hearty bowl of JAN.”

“Michael—”

“Just call me Levinson in the mooorning, beeh-beh—”
“Michael.”

“Yes.”

She tries to frame this as delicately as possible… but there’s no way she can, “I am here to tell you that we are closing the Scranton branch.”

“……I don’t understand.”

“The Board voted last night to close your branch.”

“…On whom’s authority?”

“The Board’s.”

“…What?”

“I’m very sorry,” she genuinely is, “I don’t… don’t relish telling you this,” she doesn’t at all, “You’ve been a big part of this company, and the Board asked me to thank you for your years of service.”  They sincerely do.

“You’re welcome.”

While a few Scranton employees will be transferred, the rest will be getting severance packages.  However, a final decision has not been made on who’ll be transferred.

Jan can tell Pam won’t be transferring.  And she’s hurting for them both.

Michael freaks out, putting his face in his hands (since he’s a severance package person)… and Dwight notices.

“Oh, my God.  Oh, my Goood!” Michael attempts to keep himself together.

Pam notices, as the faint shout of his “No!” perks her ears.  Kevin asks her what she thinks they’re discussing.  She doesn’t know and hopes it’s not what she thinks it is.  He then asks if it’s serious.  Still doesn’t know, still hopes it’s not what she thinks it is.  She’ll call Kevin and update him.

Please tell me you spray-painted the company car or something, Michael.

Ryan’s noticing now, thinking what’s happening is something serious and work-related instead of neither of those.

“I don’t get it—” Michael has to stop his chomping teeth desk toy, “I don’t get it because our numbers aren’t that bad, things are looking up, it’s, i— y’know—”
“Well, it’s not all about numbers, Michael.”
“Well—”
“It’s-it’s about talent.”

“Oh, you gotta be… Josh?”  Yup, Josh.

David Wallace sees Josh as the model branch manager: suave, well-spoken, well organized, and — most importantly — tactful.  None of these describe Michael, and though David does like the guy, it’s clear to both him and Jan that Josh will be the one that will play an important role in the company’s future.

Michael believes that role to be ‘King of the Stupid Universe’.

Jan hurriedly leaves a distraught Michael to his own devices, hoping that they’ll be able to make it once it’s official.  Before she leaves, she urges him to use discretion, and then he begs “Don’t hurt me like I hurt you.”  And, as ridiculous as this moment is, she’s hiding her real emotions as she exasperatedly walks out.

“It is an outrage,” Michael rants to the crew, “that’s all, it’s… they’re making a huge, huge mistake.  Let’s see Josh replace these people.  Let’s see Josh find another Stanley.  You think Stanleys grow on trees?  Well, they don’t.  There is no Stanley tree.  Do you think the world is crawling with Phyllises?  Show me that farm.  With Phyllises and Kevins sprouting up all over the place, ripe for the plucking… Show me that farm.”

Despite the piss-poor analogy, Michael’s correct.  Josh lacks a certain understanding that Michael possesses.  Though Stamford has always had great numbers, its sudden rise to success is primarily because of Jim; Josh is well aware of this fact, he never got to know him as a person, not really.  His sense of humor, his aspirations, his insecurities, his dedication to the one he loves, he is ignorant of all of that.  Same with the often overlooked and undervalued Karen, whose competitive nature motivates her to advance her career, thus getting the branch higher numbers.  Same with Andy, whose incompetence hidden behind a wide grin and ass-kissing lips is why Stamford is not as successful as it could be.  Oh, he’s capable to learn all of this, but he never bothers to have an actual conversation with any of them.  But, hey, Call of Duty takes precedence.

Josh can deduce why Stamford’s doing well, but Michael can deduce how.

Right now, he’s just walking around the office, trying to take in the nostalgia (and annoying Stanley), as Dwight makes him feel weird (yet again), “Hey stranger.”

“Don’t say that, that just sounds weird, please.”

“Sorry, I just feel like we haven’t talked in a while.”

“Well, we have nothin’ to talk about, Dwight.  Just do your work… while you still can.”

Those four words give Dwight pause, shaken.  He looks at Michael by his office door, who’s trying to contain his crushed spirit.

“When you become close with someone, you develop a kind of sixth sense,” Dwight explains to the crew, “You can read their moods like a book.  And right now, the title of Michael’s book is, Something Weird is Going On…colon, What Did Jan Say?  The Michael Scott Story.  By Michael Scott, with Dwight Schrute.”

Karen, excited to share the new gossip, walks over to Jim.  “Hey, um, did you hear about your friends in Pennsylvania?”  Pennsylvania?  “Rumor has it that the Scranton Branch is—*cht*,” she confirms his greatest fear with a guillotine hand motion.

Oh no.  No no no no no.

“Really?” he says, feigning a look of slightly-surprised indifference, “Wow, that’s bad.”  No no no no no no no no no.

“Um…” Andy decides to butt in, “sorry, the Scranton branch is closing?” he decides to subtly mock him, “In your face!”  Stay classy, Andy.

Jim attempts to save face, “Well, I work here now—”
“Mmmm, suck-ah!”

Jim looks at the camera with pursed lips, hiding his urge to toss the bastard out the window.  The camera follows him looking down, typing away as fast as he can.

Pam suddenly gets an alert from her AOL direct messages:

JIM9334: Need to talk to you about something during lunch. Work-related. If you hear anything, DON’T PANIC.

She gets concerned, but she knows she can trust him.  Then Michael walks by, wearing a rather uncomfortable grimace, automatically making things worse.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, great!” he badly lies, “Amazing.  Best physical condition of my life.”  One could tell.

“What did Jan want?”  What did she want, Michael?

“Nothing.  Just checking in.”  A beat.  “I can’t tell you, so…”

“What can’t you tell me?”  What can’t you tell me, Michael?

“Nothing, Pam.”  And yet he does tell her through a harsh whisper, “whatdifferencedoesitmake?we’llbegoneinacoupleofweeksanyway.”

“What?”

“What?”

“You just said that we’re gonna be gone—?”
“Do I have any messages?”

“Michael, what’s going on?”  This can’t be happening.

After Dwight further backs him into a corner, Michael is forced to reveal the shutdown.  Toby advises him that it shouldn’t be discussed until all final decisions are made.  Michael, naturally, calls him a traitor for finding out before he did.

“What about us, Michael?  Do we still have jobs?” Angela asks pointedly.

“I don’t know, probably not,” Michael answers honestly, “This is the worst!”  He attempts to get his emotions in check but ends up sporting a face that looks like he swallowed a peeled lemon whole.  “So,” he concludes, “This has been great!  So let’s get back to work and do the best job that we can.”  He then decides to interrogate Toby in his office, who simply accepts his lot in life, as he always does.  Dwight stops the cameraman from walking in right after he is stopped from walking in.

The cameras pan so they can capture Pam’s fear.

Some of Scranton’s employees discuss their thoughts with the crew.

“It makes perfect sense that it would happen today,” Ryan vents to them, “because I just received this in the mail.”  He holds up a dandy card box.  “A thousand business cards with this address and phone number.”

“I don’t want to blame anyone in particular,” Angela tells them, “I think everyone’s to blame.”

“If I get to stay—” Kelly expresses to them through her over-the-top, mascara-staining tears, “and Ryan is laid off, I will kill myself.  Like Romeo and Juliet.  The Claire Danes one.”

But not all take the news poorly.  “I couldn’t be happier,” an all-too-giddy Stanley reveals to the crew, “I’m gonna take the severance and retire.  My wife and I are gonna travel,” he can’t help but chuckle, “I really couldn’t be happier.”

Meredith walks into Michael’s office to inform Michael that, despite Carol, she’s still “willing” if he is; she’s keeping a promise from six years ago involving their last day of work.  It wasn’t Michael.

His day just keeps getting worse and worse.

“It’s a blessing in disguise,” Pam attempts to hide her fears to the crew, “Actually, not even in disguise,” her voice wavers, “In my fantasy, I always thought I would slap someone, make a big speech and storm out forever,” despite her emotions, she wishes something like that will happen one day, “but this is good, too.”  Her face scrunches slightly, unable to hide it anymore.  With an “Excuse me,” she quickly gets out of her chair and walks off.

The camera follows her exit, Angela noticing Pam leaving the conference room, her cell phone out.

She doesn’t know.  But even she did, no one else would find out from her.  Not even Dwight.

“Stamford, Connecticut!” Andy singsongs around his coworkers who’re clapping in rhythm, “Stamford, Connecticut!”

Jim focuses on his monitor, frightened by Pam’s silence.  Suddenly, Josh walks up to him, “What happened?”

What do you think?  “I think the word got out about Scranton.”  Josh is… pensive as he rubs his chin, but Jim needs more information.  “Hey, uh, do you know any more details on that?  Like is uh… anybody transferring here, or…”  Like a new receptionist, or?

“Uh, no, nothing’s definite.”  Can something be definite?  “In fact, you know what, um,” Josh apprehensively addresses the rest of his staff, “Excuse me, everyone?  I know there are some rumors going around, but… nothing is definite, alright?  Um, you guys have done a great job, getting our numbers up around here, but until this thing is official, let’s just keep working, huh, y’know?  Be professional.”  Oh, yeah, they’re doing a great job at that so far!

“Ladies and gentlemen!” the oh-so-professional Andy declares, “Or fearless leader Josh Porter!”  And he is met with a round of applause.  Josh is still pensive as Andy asks him to take a bow.

Meanwhile, Karen can’t help but notice Jim as he looks at his cell phone and steps out to answer it.

[“Well, I can transfer to another branch and I can get you there.”]  Jim’s comforting an emotional Pam, who’s stationed in the stairwell.

“Jim, I might not be able to afford another city,” she swallows, “Because I might not get a job there or anywhere else and the severance will only take me so far and I just”
[“Pam—”]
“enrolled for the Spring and I may have to move back with my parents”
[“Pam…”]
“and we’ll be farther away and I dunno how else this will pan out, Jim…” she sheds some more tears.

[“Hey, hey hey… let’s breathe, okay?”]  He attempts to comfort her over the phone, his voice breaking in stress, as she nods her head as if he could see her.  [“Alright, deep breath.  Follow my lead.”]  They deep breathe in tandem, both feeling ever-so-slightly more relaxed.  [“I’m gonna find out everything I can, and we’ll work from there, okay?”]

She deep breathes as she takes in his words, “Okay.”

[“We’re gonna be okay, Pam.  I promise.”]

“We’re gonna be okay.”  She nods again, reassuring herself.

Back in the office, “You’re kidding!” Roy expresses his surprise to Angela.

“No,” she laments quietly.

“What does that mean?”

Kevin answers, “Well, some of us are fired and a few are going to Connecticut.”

Roy is all too curious, “Do you guys know who’s going where?”  He notices Pam walking back to her desk, recovering from her breakdown.  He needs to be there for her when the dust settles.

“Oh don’t worry,” Angela brightly reassures him, getting his attention, “You’re gonna be fine, Roy!  You’re very… strong.  And capable.”  While Roy is weirded out, Kevin just giggles.  “Oh, grow up!”

What was that thing about the slow train from Philly again?

“I don’t want to work here without Pam,” Roy laments later to the crew, “It’d just be… loading trucks without any meaning… y’know?”

Creed takes a picture of Stanley packing and uploads it to his computer, “feeling nostalgic”.

“’Ey, Mike,” Warehouse Foreman Darryl Philbin greets Michael, who returns with a salute.

“Darryl,” Michael sighs, “Noble Darryl.”

“Look, I heard about the office,” Darryl says in genuine sympathy as Michael gives him an awkward shoulder pat, “Tough break.”

“I know, I know,” Michael accepts the inevitable, “Well, I’ll land on my feet,” he tries to maintain himself through it, “Don’t worry about me.”

“I wasn’t.”

“So, you’ll be okay too.  You’re a warrior.  You’re smart, capable.  You’ll find something else and—”

“Actually, Bob Vance bought out the warehouse,” Darryl reveals, “So he’s keeping on the whole crew, so we good.”

“…Awesome.”  Once again, Michael’s world is crumbling around him.

“This is my house,” Michael angrily informs the crew, “The CFO is taking away my house and giving it to Josh.”  That’s not how this works.  “And Josh is giving the garage to Bob Vance.”  That’s not how any of this works.  Despite his ignorance, he still dramatically looks away in exasperated fury.

In a bid to fight for his family, he plans to drive all the way to New York and tell David Wallace personally that he’s making a big mistake!  Guess who else goes with him?

“Oh, good, you’re bringing Dwight.”  Pam’s not even hiding her agitation anymore.

And Ryan?  Well, his reaction is no different from the thousand others he’s had to what happens around him.

Since Wallace is out of the office, the two decide on a Plan B: his home address.  How did Dwight find out his home address?  Simple: Christmas cards.

“You sent him cards?” Michael asks, “You never met him.”

“But when I do, we’ll have something to talk about,” Dwight smirks with confidence to the camera at the backseat.

Jim’s conversation with Pam left him shaken.  He doesn’t blame himself for not mulling over the impact of an event like this, and neither does she.  This came out of absolutely nowhere, giving them no time to prepare for it.  But now, a monkey wrench the size of his arm was thrown and they don’t know how to handle it, but they have to.

The shy and soft-spoken Pam is keeping it together.  The confident, charismatic Jim is barely keeping it together.  But they have to.

But the more information he has on his hands, the better of a plan the two can come up with, which is why he re-enters Josh’s office.  “Hey, do you have a second?”

“Sure, what’s up?”  Josh is gearing up for his announcement, so he puts on a brave face.

“I know it’s not definite or whatever, but uh… do you know who’s coming over here from Scranton?” Jim raises his eyebrows.  Literally anyone?

Josh hides behind a confident smile as he shakes his head in sympathy, “I honestly don’t.  I don’t know.”

Jim keeps pressing, he’s hiding something, “Okay, so is it like sales or… accountants…?”
“You know what, Jim, I wouldn’t worry about it,” he awkwardly gives half-laughs.

And Jim plays along with his own, “What does that mean?”  What does that mean, Josh?

A bright-faced Jan opens Josh’s office door and walks inside, “Ready to talk logistics?”

Both men prepare themselves for the trainwreck that’s about to happen.

But Josh is right about something: Jim has nothing to worry about.

“I just feel like it could have been something special if we could have kept working together,” Ryan tells Kelly, lying through his teeth, “but I’m gonna go someplace else and you’re gonna go someplace else…  It just doesn’t make sense.”  Kelly accepts his reason excuses as fact.

It doesn’t make sense.  Like their relationship.

“This kinda worked out perfectly for me,” he admits to the interviewers, “I got some good experience.”  He did.  “Uh, Michael’s gonna write me a great recommendation.”  Michael would, in the form of a sonnet.  “And as far as me and Kelly goes, I think it’s for the best.”  You and everyone else.

Creed sells one of the small printers for quite a bit of money.

As Michael and Dwight ascend to Wallace’s doorstep, Michael describes his actions to the crew, making an odd comparison, “This is exactly what Michael Moore does, a famous documentar-rian.  He goes up to people with a camera and he’s like, ‘Why did you do this?  Why did you pollute?  You are bad.  You’re a bad person.’  It’s very dramatic.  Although, I can’t say I was a big fan of Bowling for Columbine, because I thought it was going to be a bowling movie, like Kingpin.”  Dwight very loudly uses the door knocker, just to really demonstrate their anger.  “And it wasn’t.  It was something, else.”

If there’s one thing Michael knows, it’s movies.  He should make one himself.

“So, Josh will be running what is now called Dunder Mifflin Northeast,” Jan begins, “which is all the offices north of Stamford.”  Josh’s anticipation is getting the better of him.  “And Jim, if you want the job, you’ll be his Number Two,” she offers Jim with a pat on his shoulder.

“Wow.  Uh… sure, absolutely.”
“Awesome!”

Jim’s excitement is evident.  He’s not a fan of this job, not by a longshot, but it’s only been half a year and now he’s A.R.M.  How did that happen?

Pam believes he has all the potential in the world and has told him this time and time again.  He only assumed it was out of support.  His parents, Larissa, Johnathan, Tom, and Pete (the latter two on a good day) all support him, too.  But why?  Because of moments like these.  For one gleaming moment, Jim felt something he has never felt before: accomplished.

If the situation wasn’t so dire, he’d forward another message to Dwight from Future Dwight telling him the news.  And — as much as he hates to admit it — he kinda sorta understands where Dwight’s coming from.

As for Jan, she’s done all she could for Jim, but there’s another proposal she’ll try to talk Josh into.  For her.

“Excuse me, Jan,” Josh interrupts, “I’m sorry.  I’m gonna have to stop you there.  I, um… will not be taking the job.”

…You can’t be serious.

Jim looks between the two, his stoic face hiding a million unanswered quesions, while Jan does the usual “calm-before-the-storm” pose of cocking her head to the side and fiddling with her earrings, “Wha— …excuse— why not?”

And, at this moment, Josh delivers the news in a methodic — and clearly rehearsed — manner, “As of today, I have accepted a senior management position at Staples.”

A beat.  “Today?”  He nods in shame.  “You leveraged your new position with us into another offer?”  He sighs in shame.  “Damn it, Josh.  This whole restructuring thing was based around keeping you, I—”

“I’m sorry, all right?  It’s done, it’s done,” a surprisingly quiet and defeated Josh admits.

As Jan frustratingly leaves to go make some calls, Jim just takes this all in, looking Josh in the eyes one final time before he says goodbye to Stamford forever, his feelings of betrayal hidden behind a look of exasperation.

Feelings so strong that the possibility of the “Godly Miracle” coming to pass because of Josh’s decision has yet to cross his mind.

The second the cameras cut off, he shakes his head, doesn’t say a word, ignores Josh’s “Jim, c’mon, wait—!”, leaves his office, and pulls the handle hard enough so the door slams lightly behind him, silently thanking God no one paid it any attention.

Josh is the one man that gave him this opportunity and made him feel valued.  Josh gave Jim the job, the leads, the benefits.  Josh tried to make Jim feel welcome his first few weeks.  Josh constantly talked Jim up, showing off all the potential he has but Jim never expresses.  Josh even approved of Jim and Pam’s relationship and got HR to approve of it, as well.

Then Josh pulls this.  No heads up, no prior meeting, not even a damn email sent the night before.  And it’s not just Jim who’ll be hurt by this.  Karen, Andy, Polly, Hannah, Martin, Tony, Olive, Kyle… all of their jobs are on the line, as well.  It doesn’t matter that he talks to, like, two other people here besides Josh — only one of whom he gets along with and actually likes — and it doesn’t matter that the staff was legitimately cheering about Scranton’s closing.  That doesn’t mean they deserve having to job-hunt out of nowhere.  Jim has had to.  It’s hard.  It sucks.  And, in his case, it didn’t yield any results.

Jim depended on him.
Jan depended on him.
Everyone outside his office especially depended on him.

But it’s done.  It’s done.

Then he thinks about it: Jan has been fighting for their relationship and David supported them, in a rather touching and motivating way.  Josh only talked him up to flaunt the branch’s reputation.  Karen became his closest friend here.  He earned the job, the leads, the benefits, and the opportunity.  And Michael, when he’s not being an overbearing ass, assures him how valuable he is.  Not as a salesman, but as a friend.

And the hardest part about all of this is… is that Jim was also staring at himself.  How is this any different from his stunt?  Sure, his decision is much less severe than Josh’s (since everyone still had jobs by the time he left), but that doesn’t make it sting any less.  Right now, Jim’s experiencing the hurt he gave to Pam, Michael, and everyone else.  And part of him is thankful for that.  He swears there and then, that this mistake will be one he will never repeat.  Ever again.  No matter how strong the temptation, no matter the reason, no.  Not again.  Never.  Again.

He thinks all of this as he walks to the conference room, knowing the crew is going to want a response.  He manages to keep his cool to not raise any suspicions.  When they ask him his thoughts, he sighs through his nose, looking off to the side.  With hurt still evident on his face despite the “Jim Smirk” trying to cover it up, he turns to them and answers with the following,

“Say what you will about Michael Scott, but he would never do that.”

Josh Porter was the poor man’s Michael Scott all along.

“Okay,” Dwight reports to Michael, “all visible points of access are covered.”  He walks up to him, both back at the end of the house’s walkway.  “So, do you know what you’re gonna say when he shows up?”

“I will improvise,” Michael answers, “I will speak from the heart.”

“No.  Bad idea,” Dwight advises, “You need an attack plan.  Here, I’ll be him, you be you.  Let’s practice.”

“Okay.  All right.”

Act One, Scene One, “‘Dum, dum, dum, dum… coming home from work—’”
“Excuse me, Mr. Wallace?  David Wallace?”

“‘Yes? What is the meaning of this?’”

“Can you tell us why you are shutting down Scranton and putting 15 people out of work?”

“‘Well, the branch is no longer financially viable, it’s simple dollars and cents.’”

“Yes, but these are employees, sir.  These are human beings.”

“‘Listen, Scott,’” Wallace’s actor places his hand on Michael’s shoulder, “‘it’s no longer financially viable, we’re losing money, okay?  It’s not a charity.  It’s a business.  And it’s a dying business.’”  Michael is shaking on the inside, understanding that this sounds like something Wallace could say, just not as blunt or morose.  “‘Look, the whole… business model a small regional paper company, it simply doesn’t make sense to—’”
“Stop-stop it!  Just—”  End Scene.

Michael composes himself after having listened to the truth, “Okay.  He’s not going to say any of that.”  Again, he would, just not as harsh.  Michael never knew he could feel so intimidated by something like this in his whole life.

“Whoa hey, why not?”

“Because he’d be intimidated, and I, just… let’s start again.  Just be more scared of me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Don’t touch me this time.”

“‘Dum, dum, dum, du, doy, du, do… coming home from work…’”
“Excuse me, Mr. Wallace?”
“‘AH!’”

A while after Pam relaxes, a forlorn Kelly walks up to her and asks her to sign her yearbook company directory.  She does so, initially unaware that Kelly was serious.

And Roy looks on from the kitchen windows.  His eyes are still bloodshot; whether it’s from tears or alcohol, no one asks.  Not even Darryl.

“Kelly, Best Wishes, Love Pam?”  Kelly wants nothing half-assed.

Pam takes a minute to think, “PS: what a long, strange trip it’s been!”  Kelly, back in high school for only the fourth time that day, laughs at that, and Pam can’t help but smile along with her.  She needed that.

Unsure of what to do next, Roy slinks back to the breakroom.

Jim paces around the conference room, wandering thoughts speeding through his brain.

They slow down when Karen notices him from outside as she walks towards reception.  She holds out her arms as if to say ‘Anything?’

Jim just shakes his head and shrugs.  ‘Not yet.’

She can’t help but peer through the window as the thoughts in his head speed back up.  Will he be out of a job now?  Is he gonna transfer somewhere else?  I mean, it ain’t Stamford so that’s a plus.  But still, how is he going to get her there?  Scranton’s a small city, relatively inexpensive, and probably the only thing she can afford right now.  Not to mention her art classes, which she’ll have to quit.  Even transferring the credits will be an uphill battle, it’s now November.  He desperately wants her to finish the year because she deserves it.  He knows jack about art but she’s talented, and the classes only motivate her to keep at it.  Even her mother threatened to ground her if she didn’t take money to help pay for art school, so clearly, independence is a big thing for her and he’s not making her move in until she’s comfortable.  But what if they don’t have that option?  And the promotion!  Is he gonna lose that too?  That would be a lovely carrot to dangle in front of him.

What’re we gonna do?

And then Jan enters, “So… we are still scrambling here,” she begins, feeling like she’s about to snap in half (which is a good third of her workday), “But uh, it looks like Scranton is going to absorb Stamford.”

Jim’s eyebrows raise, only being able to respond with a “Wow.”  An impossible merger just became a reality,

“And I know that you left there a while back, but we would like to offer you the Number Two position—”
“I’ll take it.”

and he gets to keep the promotion.

She’s initially shaken by the suddenness of his response, but his subdued giddiness tells her all she needs to know.  “…Okay!  Great!”  Her slight laugh indicates that she’s relieved as all hell.  They shake hands and she tells him that they’ll be talking logistics sometime tomorrow.  “Oh, and congratulations.”

He’s aware by her delivery that she’s not talking about the promotion.

“Thank you.”  As she closes the door and strides off needing to break it to the other staff members and Scranton, he slowly sits on one of the chairs in a posture more relaxed than he’s felt the past month, just taking a second to clear his head, and his smile widens.  He laughs quietly.  His eyes are becoming glassy from unshed tears of relief and unabashed happiness.  The kind of happiness a cynical prick like him would mock.  It’s been nearly six months since he’s felt something like this.  It makes him thankful, amazed, and even hungry all at once.

Wow… It’s actually happening.

Amidst his silent, reserved celebration, an assortment of groans of disbelief can be heard from outside, topped off with an “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” from Andy.  He feels bad for them, and yet as awful as it sounds, he can’t bring himself to feel anything more than that.  Because the Godly Miracle has come to pass and Stamford doesn’t matter anymore.

It doesn’t matter, because he’s going home.

A determined Meredith walks up to Toby’s desk, asking him the same question she asked Michael earlier.  It wasn’t Toby.

Meanwhile, Roy is chatting with Pam.  She answers his question, “I’m kinda okay with it, actually.”  It wasn’t the truth, but she hides it well.

“Oh, that’s good, that’s-that’s… that’s great!”  He doesn’t want her to leave, and she can tell as he sighs out awkwardly.  “Um… y’know what you’re gonna do, then?”

Not yet, please stop asking.  “Well, y’know, I got art school.”

“No, that’s— yeah, of course!” he remembers, “You should totally do that.  That’s a great idea.”  Despite his support, she can tell it’s disingenuous.

“Yeah, um, I am.  Already.  I started a while ago.”  Roy, please, you’re making this harder for me.

Roy can tell at that moment how badly he screwed up.  He’s trying to get her back, right?  So how was he not aware?  Why did she never bother to tell him?  Did she hate being in the relationship for that long?  Who else knows about it?

“Wow, that’s… that’s terrific!”  Another awkward sigh.  “That’s awesome.”  She hides how awkward she feels with her fake expressions, but she’s happy he’s trying.  “Well, cool,” he slinks away from the reception desk back downstairs, “I’m glad you’re doing that.”

The moment he leaves, she shakes her head and sighs.  Should I break it to him?

Dwight reveals a very apt truth to the crew, “You can learn a great deal about a man from his trash.”  Wearing rubber gloves, he finds something, “Case in point,” he reveals, “Satellite TV bill.  Hm.  Lesson learned: he’s rich.”  Makes sense.  “Hm, coffee grounds.  Was he enjoying a delicious hot beverage?  Or… disguising the scent of cocaine from drug-sniffing dogs?”  Makes less sense.  With a look of suspicion, he gestures to the building behind him, “’s a nice house.”

“Hey guys,” Phyllis greets the two accountants, “Uh, I’m trying to organize a little group lunch for everybody since you know, we’re never gonna see each other again.”  That’s the spirit, Phyl.

“Where are we going?” Kevin asks.

“I thought maybe DJ’s.”

Kevin’s not a fan, “How about Cugino’s?”

“I don’t want to go all the way to Dunmore,” Angela refutes in her usual tone.

“How ’bout Cooper’s then?”

“No seafood.”

“But, I don’t want to go to DJ’s.”

“Oh, now all of a sudden you get picky?”

“Okay.  Forget it,” Phyllis walks away.  This is why she can’t have nice things.

URGENT — The Scranton Merger and New Transfers
FROM: jlevinson@dundermifflin.com
TO: mscott@dundermifflinpaper.com + 30 others
CC: dwallace@dundermifflinpaper.com + 15 others

Fellow Employees of Dunder Mifflin,

We were originally planning on the Stamford branch absorbing the Scranton’s, forming a new branch called Dunder Mifflin Northeast.  However, due to Josh Porter’s sudden resignation as Stamford’s Branch Manager, C.F.O. David Wallace, the Board of Trustees, and I have made the executive decision that Stamford’s branch will absorb into Scranton’s instead, making a new and improved Dunder Mifflin Scranton.

I’m also very pleased to announce that six of Stamford’s employees accepted the decision to transfer:
James “Jim” Halpert, New Assistant Regional Manager & Sales Representative
Andrew “Andy” Bernard, Sales Representative
Karen Filippelli, Sales Representative
Anthony “Tony” Gardner, Sales Representative
Hannah Smoterich-Barr, Accountant
Martin Nash, Supplier Relations Representative
Since their first day, they have exceeded expectations; we felt them worthy to share their expertise in the Scranton Branch.  Join us in congratulating them for their continued success, and Jim Halpert especially for his well-deserved promotion!

Due to the sudden change of plans, we are giving Scranton’s new employees time to move out of their current residence and relocate to Scranton.  Their first day of work will be Monday, November 27, 2006.

To Stamford employees transferring:
— Your new HR Manager Toby Flenderson will answer any questions, concerns, or trepidations you may have.
— Your new Regional Manager, Michael Scott, will also accommodate you during your transition.
— To Sales Representatives: you will continue to serve your current clients; they have already been notified about the transfer.
— When you arrive on the 27th, get to know your new coworkers.
— Don’t hesitate to ask any questions or concerns.
— Take some time to adjust to your new workspace.
— Explore what the city of Scranton has to offer!

To Scranton employees:
— When your new coworkers arrive on the 27th, give them a warm welcome.
— Feel free to show them around their new workspace.
— Answer any questions they may have about the new workspace (or direct them to those who can help).
— Spend some time getting to know them, and make them feel at home!

I understand that this is all very sudden, and we apologize for the inconvenience.  However, we believe that this decision will strengthen the company’s productivity and reputation.  We greatly appreciate your patience and understanding during this unforeseen set of circumstances.

If you have any more questions or concerns regarding the merger, do not hesitate to contact me or Scranton’s Human Resources Representative Toby Flenderson (tflenderson@dundermifflinpaper.com) through email.

Sincerely,
Janet Levinson
Vice President of Northeastern Sales
Dunder Mifflin Paper Company, Inc.

Re: URGENT — The Scranton Merger and New Transfers
FROM: mscott@dundermifflinpaper.com
TO: jlevinson@dundermifflin.com

Jan Levi’s,
Is there anything I need to know about my new “family members” before they commence their duties? Birthdays, hobbies, SSNs?
Also, do I have your permission to create a rap, hip-hop-style music video for our new employees? It’s based on a SNL sketch, hilarious!
https://www.nbc.com/saturday-night-live/video/snl-digital-short-lazy-sunday/3505995
Dwight said he’d help.

Sincerely,
Michael Scott
Regional Manager
Dunder Mifflin Scranton

I’ll be sending you memos with all the information you need to know.  And you can do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t make the transfers uncomfortable.

Please, Michael, for the love of God, don’t screw this up.

Sincerely,
Janet Levinson
Vice President of Northeastern Sales
Dunder Mifflin Paper Company, Inc.

When have I ever let you down before?

Sincerely,
Michael Scott
Regional Manager
Dunder Mifflin Scranton

A thank you
FROM: jhalp1978@aol.com
TO: jlevinson@dundermifflin.com
CC: pambees@yahoo.com

Dear Jan,

I wanted to thank you for your support and help for both Pam and me. You really didn’t have to go to the lengths you did so we wanted you to know how much it’s appreciated.

This is Jim Halpert, by the way. Should have led with that.

All the best,
— JDH

Likewise!  You’ve done so much for us.  I know things certainly have been difficult, and I’m sure we didn’t make things any easier, so thanks again!

Take care,
Pam Beesly

You two are just fine!  If anything, the both of you kept me sane.  Just keep in mind what I told you, Pam.  Glad I could help, and congratulations!

Sincerely,
Janet Levinson
Vice President of Northeastern Sales
Dunder Mifflin Paper Company, Inc.

I’m going home.

It’s been a week since the announcement and I just found a buyer for this place, so now I can finally leave.  Mark couldn’t find another roommate after the last one tried to hotwire his car; he told me that he was “the only one stupid enough” to let me move back in, which he’s not wrong. Stamford’s still running for the most part, but business has been slow because of the obvious.

As I sit on the couch in the comforting silence, my running thoughts allow me to reflect on my time in Stamford.  And I can’t say I’m not relieved to get the fuck out of here.

The first half in Stamford was fine.  Not good, not bad.  The first week was a hell on Earth (again, the obvious), but after that?  Smooth sailing.  (Oh God, is Andy rubbing off on me?)  The office certainly made me more focused, mostly because everyone was just so… closed off, which is ironic because I’m very closed off myself.  But even the polite ones like Polly and Olive were never all that genuine, and Martin would just ignore me in the middle of a conversation.  I don’t blame Tony at all, the poor man’s just shy.  And Hannah, pft, wow.  Never thought I’d meet someone who’d give Angela Martin a run for her money.  Who would have known one of the two co-workers I’d interact with the most is a pseudo-Dwight?  It’s as if Fate herself is mocking me.

Aside from Call of Duty (say what you want about Movie Mondays, at least it felt like an actual break), there was nothing all that interesting.  It was just “find leads, sell paper, get paid,” which is the name of the game, but I never felt valued other than my status and my sales record.  To be honest, if I stayed there and didn’t have Pam, I probably would go out with Karen.  We did become friends as we worked together more, and we have the same drive to achieve, though she has far more of it than I do.  Shooting her down was the absolute worst, but I knew it would only end in disaster, especially with the merger happening and seeing Pam every workday.  She recovered quickly, at least, and she seems to be excited about Scranton of all places.

And then it hits me: I actually miss Dunder Mifflin Scranton.

I miss Toby’s cool, somehow collected presence around the office.  I miss grabbing drinks with Kevin.  I miss Phyllis’s homemade brownies.  Angela offering me the occasional compliment on my tie (the cat one that was a gag gift), Oscar discussing a new display at the local art museum and tolerating my complete obliviousness, Meredith buying me free shots, Stanley asking me “Seven words, ‘blank’ of the Caribbean”, Kelly describing the latest episode of America’s Next Top Model in great detail, Creed attempting to advertise his latest pyramid scheme to me.  I miss it all.  I even miss Dwight.

I miss Dwight Schrute.

How the hell does that happen?

Is this nostalgia clouding my memories or am I going insane?  Yes.  But for some ungodly reason that I can’t pinpoint, I’m looking forward to that Monday, and not just because of Pam.  It’ll be neat to see everyone again.  Except for maybe Ryan.  It’s weird, the one guy I can relate to the most and I don’t really wanna interact with him.  I remember Pam telling me he got all antsy when he asked about me coming back like he was threatened by me.  I always did get the feeling he never liked me, especially back then; honestly, I don’t like middle school me either.

And then there’s the case of Michael Scott, the most infuriating man-child this side of the Northeast, who has probably been there for me more times than I can count.  He’s much better than—

…Fuck.

That whole moment is still eating at me.  Like where the hell does Josh get off?  After everything we’ve done together, he treats the rest of his employees like that?  Then again, it was kinda cathartic since every one of them except Karen was cheering on the fact that Scranton was closing.  Assholes.

On the plus side, Pam’s driving over to see me before I move back.  We decided to celebrate one last weekend in Stamford; she managed to get out of work thanks to “period cramps”, which I’m surprised this time around Michael was smart enough to not offer suggestions like “Have you tried herberal tea?”

The doorbell rings, which is odd, usually she gives me a secret knock.  I open the door, wondering who it cou—

It’s her.

Yeah, it’s Pam, but it’s her.

The red locks.  The eye shadow.  The lipstick.  The dress… Celtic blue, reflective fabric, numerous flower details etched into it.  The only difference is that it goes down to her ankles instead of her knees, and she’s wearing a navy jacket shawl thing because of the cold.  But it’s still the dress.  It’s still her.

The woman who broke my heart.

I’m stunned silent, like when I saw her before our first weekend together.
How is this happening?
Why is this happening?
What is happening?

“Hi,” she’s nervous but still as cute as always, “May I come in?”

I snap back to reality, “Oh, of course!” and move out of the way to let her in.

She chuckles in the way I can’t get enough of, “Thank you,” and she enters; I can tell she’s trying to calm me down.  Thank God it’s working.
She holds my cheek and gives me a short kiss on the lips.  Really working.

“Here, let me get that,” I offer, removing the shawl and hanging it on the coat rack.

“Thank you,” she replies, “what a gentleman.”  God, she’s charming.

“Would you like some refreshments?” I ask, trying to prolong what’s about to happen.

“No, thank you,” she answers, “Come join me.”  Her usual disposition starts to fade as she lightly pats the cushion beside her.  I’m hesitant, but I oblige, wondering where this is all going.

We’re facing each other for the first time since that night.  “Pam—”

“Please, Jim, I…” she’s trying to find the words, “I wanna get this off my chest.”

“Okay.”  I nod in understanding, even though I don’t understand this at all.

“I know that this is… weird.”  Yes, very.  “And it’s weird for me, too.  But… I wanna do this for me.”  She still tries to find the words.  “I’m just, I’m wanting to move on.  From… yeah.”  Neither of us can bother describing it anymore.  “And I figured since Kelly was looking for bridesmaid dresses and she thought this one brought out my eyes—”

“It really does.”

“Thank you,” she tries to hide her blushing, “I figured this would be a step forward.”

I grin at the display, knowing it’s all pointless.  “Pam,” I start, “God knows how much I appreciate this, but the past six months have made up for every—”

“They have,” she interrupts, “and I don’t wanna rewrite history either, but… there have been moments where I look at that desk and I just wanna cry,” she gets misty-eyed, but she swallows and presses on, “that I see Ryan use the same phone I used to call my mom, and—” she shakes her head, “I’m tired of associating those things with the worst night of my life.  Especially since you’re coming home soon.”

“Personification.”

“Exactly.”

I breathe out, thankful that she’s doing this for her.  “I completely understand,” I nod again, actually understanding.  Because I’m doing the same thing right now, and I give that away eyeing the dress.

Catching that, she looks down and comes to the same realization, “I-I’m so sorry, I-I should’ve considered how you—”
“It’s okay, Pam.  I… I need to get over it, too.”

She flashes a sad smile, “If this is too weird for you, I can put the breaks on this right now.”

“I’m just fine.”

Pam and I agreed we need to find ourselves if this was ever going to work.  It’s why we kept contact to a minimum.  But considering it got to the point where the distance seemed farther every day, topped off with the whole Diwali thing, the merger couldn’t have happened at a better time.  We’re in our twenties and have no idea who the hell we are, but now we have a better idea of how to get there, and we’ll be together when we get there.  I couldn’t be more proud of her if I tried.

It’s why I reassure her instead of backing out like I want to.

She reaches out to hold my hands to hold hers.  “Jim,” she starts, “The last time we saw each other, I wasn’t honest with you.”
“I… I can’t.”
“And now that I’m here, I wanna tell you the truth.”
“You have no idea… what your friendship means to me.”
She reaches over to my cheek again, brushing it gently with her thumb.  “Go ahead, Jim.  It’s okay.”

That small bit of reassurance pushes me to state the obvious.  My voice is hoarse, it’s barely above a whisper, but I say it.  “I’m in love with you.”
“I’m really sorry if you misinterpre
“Me, too.”

And that’s all I needed to hear for her to become Pam.  She’s not the woman who broke my heart anymore, she’s Pam.  My girlfriend.  I lean over to kiss her, her scooching herself over to me and sitting on my lap as we make out again, exactly like we did the night she drove over.

It’s just now hitting me how irrational my reaction was.  It’s an outfit.  That’s all.  Just some bridesmaid dress, a hairdo, some lipstick.  It was nearly six months ago, and especially with everything that happened afterward, the fact that I’m personifying a damn dress is more than a little pathetic.

Yet the wind is still thoroughly out of my sails and I can’t bring myself to care.

After leaning back and sprawling on the couch mid-makeout sesh, we pull apart, foreheads touching.  With one more peck, she rests her head on my left shoulder.  “What do you want for dinner?” I ask.

“I dunno,” she quietly answers, easing into the crick of my neck.

“You feel like going out?”

“I hate that I’m not.  I’m starting to like this dress again.”

“Yeah, I haven’t had lunch today.  Nerves again.”

“Th-that’s okay,” I ask, trying not to break, “We’ll stay here and eat something.”

“How about your world-famous ham-and-cheese sandwiches?”

“‘Word-famous,’ huh?” I smirk.

She playfully rolls her eyes, “Okay, don’t get too high on that horse.”

“I’ll be sure to not break myself if I fall down.”

She starts to giggle, “God.”  We both lean up off each other and sit down on the couch properly, needing to adjust our posture, as she sighs heavily.

“Rough day?”

“Rough week,” she answers tiredly, “Dwight’s already preparing for your arrival.”

“I am hyped.”  I really am.

“As is Michael.”

“Considerably less hyped.”  My excitement is replaced with fear.

“Yup,” she confirms, “Even art class yesterday was frustrating.  The professor made—” the growling comes back.  With a vengeance.

I start to suppress my laughter, resulting in that high-pitched noise I make, and thankfully that gets her to start laughing alongside me; we only laugh harder once I cover my face and can’t help doing “the squeal” as she oh-so-lovingly calls it.

As we finish our sandwiches back on the couch, someone else comes up.  “I can’t believe Josh.”

I just look down and shake my head, “Neither can I.”

“He knew about us, too!  I mean, he talked to Jan, surely she said something about us.”

“Yeah,” I respond emotionlessly as I drink my water.

“God, what a selfish ass.”

Now I think out loud, “Yeah, he— abandoned an entire office and his closest friends for a higher paying job without so much as a goodbye.”  She looks at me weirdly, wondering where I’m going with this.  “Only a selfish ass would pull that, right?” I try to shrug it off, but just look down again.

She gently moves my arm so she can hug me on my side.  “Don’t do that to yourself,” she gently tells me, “You know you’re not like him.”

I wrap my arms around her, letting her know how badly I needed to hear that.  “I’m not.”  I know I’m not, but I just don’t get why.  “It… it shouldn’t sting as much as it does.”

“It’s because you care,” she says, “and he doesn’t.”  I can tell she’s pissed at him.

“Yeah,” I simply respond.  I grab the stool with my leg and roll over the stool so we can prop out feet on it, not letting go.

Despite that conversation we look at each other and just… smile.

“I love you.”
“I love you.”

I thought that I had no future in Dunder Mifflin, and for me to genuinely want that would require a lobotomy.  But now, in a strange way, I’m glad I do have a future in Scranton.  At least for a while.  Because now I can walk in that building and spend time with her, knowing I don’t have to hide, lie, second-guess, deny, deflect, or self-loathe anymore, and neither does she.

We’re here, we’re happy, we’re finally free.

Back in Philly, I remember thinking how otherworldly that entire weekend was, surprised it was even happening.  And as badly as I wanna live there someday, it’s not my home yet.  But she is, and she’s in Scranton, so I’m going home.

I’m finally going home.

…Dwight and Andy are going to work in the same office.

Oh, God.

3.08 “The Merger”

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, the doc crew films various employees packing and sorting various files and other supplies.

“The Stamford branch is closing and everybody’s just packing up their stuff,” Jim explains to the doc crew, “Andy Bernard made these tasteful hats,” he points to the crudely made headband with a tombstone as its centerpiece, ‘R.I.P.’ written in Sharpie.  And he wears it with pride.  Stamford was an ordeal; Jim’s “fresh start,” and subsequently Josh Porter, was nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing all along.  But after that Friday, it no longer matters.

Because he’s going home.

“Yo!  Tuna!” Andy signals, “I wanna talk to you about this new boss, Michael Scott.”

Oh boy, here we go.  “Yeah.”

“So what’s he like?  Likes?  Dislikes?  Favorite sports?  Favorite movies?  Favorite men’s magazines?”

Well, he’s not a fan of kissasses.  “You know what?  I think you just need to meet him.”

“Playing your cards close to the vest,” Andy accuses, “I get it.  Good luck over there, Tuna.  Cross me and I will destroy you.”

“Sounds good, Andy,” he says looking at the camera.  Good luck with that.

He turns around to see Karen, nearly through with her things.  “This is going to be an adventure.”

“Yes.  This is going to be very interesting,” he affirms, “All right, I’m out of here.  See you later?”

They high-five, “Right on,” and as he turns and walks away, she looks on, forlorn as ever.  She knows this is stupid.  She knows how much of a sweetheart Pam seems to be, how much the two deserve each other.  So why does it still sting, even now?  After months?  It doesn’t make sense… much like what she spots Andy doing, him rolling his old desk chair with something on it.

“Hey, is that Josh’s computer?”
“What?”

When Toby enters the same morning, Pam congratulates him on finishing the run he was a part of.

“Psh, why is that great?” Dwight snidely remarks by the copier.

“Because he accomplished something.”  She’s not dealing with him today.

“What was your mile time?” Dwight asks Toby.

“About seven,” he answers with a humble sense of pride.

“I could beat that on a skateboard,” Dwight scoffs.

“Well, that has wheels.”

“Yeah, well my feet don’t.  And I can still crush that time.”

Pam decides to put his speed to the test because according to Dwight himself, he is fast.  “To give you a reference point: I’m somewhere between a snake and a mongoose.  And a panther.”

Pam prepares a race between Dwight and Toby, of which Toby is none the wiser; she’ll time him later.

She elaborates to the crew, “Am I being mean to Dwight?  I don’t know.  I did just make him run around the building and I have no intention of timing him.  This isn’t even a stopwatch, it’s a digital thermometer.  He does make my life harder, sometimes.  And on purpose.  Like he tried to put meters on the bathroom stalls as a way of bringing in more money for the company.”  She then notices Dwight, “Hey, three more laps to go!  Gotta pick it up if you’re going to beat Toby!”

“AHHHH!”

“I should probably get back to work.”

“Here.  Who’s here?” Michael asks Dwight as they go desk-to-desk.

“Nametag?”

“Yes, please.”
“Karen Filippelli.”

“Karen Filip—” he can’t help himself, “uh, a-Fili-péll-li.”

“Probably Italian.  Possibly Filipino.”

Yes, Scranton is absorbing the Stamford branch, though Michael feels it’s more his family is doubling in size.  “I have a gigantic performance ahead of me,” he tells the crew, “And I have to get into my head and focus.”

And a performance it will be.

After labeling Martin Nash of Supplier Relations (who Dwight Google Image searched) and Andy’s desks, Dwight has an out-there statement.  “I would fire Anthony Gardner.”
“What?”
“before noon”
“I’m not”
“to consolidate power.”
“I’m not firing somebody on the first day.”
“No no no, not somebody, Gardner.”

His reasoning is fascinating, “The Japanese camp guards of World War II always chose one man to kill whenever a batch of new prisoners arrived.  I always wondered how they chose the man who was to die… I think I would have been good at choosing the person.”  He sure would.

Pam enters, with two large grocery bags in tow.  She’s told by Michael to set them up in the conference room “As if you are trying to impress a much older man who’s way out of your league.”  Pam should be annoyed enough with that statement to refute it, but she’s too giddy to care.

“Yes!  I’m in a good mood today!” Pam says, “I’m excited to meet all the new people,” she can’t hide it, “and to see my old friend again, definitely.”  Yes, an old friend.  “That’s always a thing that makes people happy… to have an old friend back.”  That look of hers gives it away, as always.

Five Stamford employees enter, and only one will remain.  Who’ll it be?  Let’s find out!

In walks the first contestant, HANNAH.  “Welcome to Scranton,” Michael greets, “This is Hannah Smoterich-Barr.”
“Hannah Smoterich-Barr.”

“Welcome to our humble abode.  Follow me to your desk.  Your ball and chain is right over here.”  The cameras catch Kevin hiding his jar of M&Ms.  Smart man, that Kevin.

Michael addresses the crew yet again, “You know for a lot of these people this is the only family they have.”  Sure.  “So… As far as I’m concerned,” he holds up his ‘WORLD’S BEST BOSS’ coffee mug, “this says ‘World’s Best Dad’.”

In walks TONY, Contestant #2.  Kevin’s upset that he didn’t get a gift bag; Hannah remarks to him that hers is only pencils.  And coupons.

In walks KAREN, #3.  Pam and her immediately hit it off, Karen complimenting Pam’s sweater.  Naturally, in walks Michael to make things worse.  “Take me to your lead-er!  Oh, wait, I am your lead-er!” he introduces in a faux-robot/Martian voice.

Like anyone else, Karen’s confused, “Uh, wait, are you a robot or a Martian?”

He attempts to shrug it off, “I am actually your boss, Michael Scott.  Welcome.  Wow!  You are very exotic looking.  Was your dad a G.I. or uh?”

Karen’s always up for a challenge… and this might be the most trying one yet.  Pam’s “disappointed mother” look at Michael doesn’t ease her worries.

Right outside is #4, ANDY, who’s confident about his chances, “I’ll be the Number Two guy here in Scranton in six weeks.  How?  Name repetition, personality mirroring, and never breaking off a handshake.  I’m always thinking one step ahead.  Like a… carpenter… that makes stairs.”  He’s already got Michael Scott’s skills of analogy.

Andy’s surprisingly great first impression gets Michael’s attention.  “You know who I really like, is this guy Andy Bernard,” he tells the crew, “He has got this very likable way about him.”  Turns out Jim was wrong about the whole “kissass” thing.

And finally, there’s Contestant #5, MARTIN, walking alongside someone else… someone who’s happy to be back.

Pam’s demeanor brightens at the camera as she organizes her hair.  After a brief and awkward welcome back from Michael (and an even more awkward one for Martin that included the word ‘slaves’), Pam can hardly take it.

“Hi, I’m Jim,” Jim greets, “I’m new here.”

“Oh, my God!  You’re back!”  She runs up to his arms and they embrace, both of them laughing away and ignorant of the office that they’re in and the people right in front of them.

The cameras catch Jim noticing Karen unpacking her stuff, so he tries to keep things under wraps, “Yeah, I was just doing a little joke there about how we’d never met—”

“I know, I don’t care.”  She cares so little that she grabs his cheeks, brings him down to her, and kisses him in front of the entire offi—
“Oh, my God!”

Kelly’s entrance from the kitchen finally catches the attention of practically every employee (sans Ryan).

It’s over now.  They know.  All of them know.  And with Kelly’s exclamation, they realize
Oh, God.
Oh, God.
there is no escape.

Everyone just stares at Jim and Pam, the two of them still frozen stiff as they become the one thing they constantly try to avoid: the center of attention.

Michael looks at the two, secretly praying this moment would come, “No way.”

“What?” Dwight asks, legitimately surprised.

“You guys are together?” Phyllis pipes up, sporting the most supportive grin she’s ever worn.

Jim answers with an “Uhm…” sporting an inquisitive look.  Pam’s still shaking inside, looking at him and wondering how the hell he was gonna approach this.  And then, the inevitable happens:

“Yyyup.”

Jim catches the shock and elation on her face from his peripheral vision, and he becomes just as excited as he confirms it verbally, “Yes, we are.”

“WHOA, WOW!” Michael’s enthusiasm is practically infectious as the rest of the office celebrates accordingly.
Kelly jumps for joy and claps.
Phyllis continues to grin, rubbing her hands together, in glee.
Kevin stands and shouts an “I knew it!” from his desk.
Stanley, as usual, displays no interest, besides the subtle smirk.
Angela rolls her eyes, effectively hiding her true response.
Andy shouts an oddly supportive “TUNA!” and grants Jim a thumbs up.
Meredith gives the two of them small applause.
Creed tries to see what’s happening, yet doesn’t consider standing up.
Toby stands there longingly with a pathetic “hooray.”
The rest of the Stamford employees offer polite looks.
Dwight’s response is a simple shrug of ‘…Huh.’
And even Karen, despite everything, offers a wide and supportive smile, which the couple notices and the cameras capture.  Because they’ve earned this.  It was a challenge for them, and they made it.  She’s genuinely proud of them.

Cut to Jim addressing this to the crew, “Pam and I decided to reunite in person the day I started work…” he nods solemnly, “a pretty bad idea in hindsight,” he ends with his signature smirk.

“Okay, mind is exploding, get over here, come on,” he grabs each of the couple’s hands, making sure the whole office knows they’re in love, “Everyone, this is a day that will live in infamy,
Jim just turns to the camera and raises his eyebrows knowingly.

“because today, is the day
Pam just looks at Michael, embarrassed beyond belief but honestly touched.

“that two branches
Dwight nods his head, wearing a supportive half-smile.

“and two hearts…
Angela attempts to hide her own smile in support of the two.

“become one.”

Jim feels the need to clarify, “We’ve been dating for six months.”
“I… love you guys, so much.”

Michael embraces Jim, but Pam is saved by the bell as the phone rings and she walks over to answer it.  “No no no, Pam, let ’em ring,” Michael presses, “Let the bells… of Dunder Mifflin chime out your love.”  The cameras capture Stanley’s complete disinterest.  “Because… this is really good!” Michael is near tears, “This is really good,” Karen relaxes at her new desk, still a bit down, as her new boss grabs something from Jim’s old desk, “My heart… soars… with the eagle’s nest.”

A true expression of love, indeed.

Still standing on Cloud 9, Jim leans over Pam’s desk as always as she finishes her call, “Awesome,” he tells her quietly, “Good to be back.”

“Alright, I’ll transfer you,” she finishes, hanging up the phone.  “It’s really good to see you.”  I love you.

“You, too.”  Love you, too.  As he strides to his desk, a certain other reunion occurs.

“Well, well, well.  Look what the cat dragged in from Stamford.”

“Hey, Dwight.”

“Fact: I am older.  I am wiser.  Do not mess with me.”

“Okay, sounds good.”  After the simple yet effective prank of looking just above Dwight’s line of sight, Jim spots Ryan, his former replacement.

“Hey, buddy.  Welcome back!”

Oh, it’s him.  “Hey!  How are you, man?  Good to see you.”

“I’m good!  How are you?”  And Ryan drops his bag on the desk.  The awkwardness is palpable. “So…”

Jim tries to alleviate things, “Oh, I’m sorry.  Are you sitting here now?”

“Yeah,” Ryan answers with quiet confidence.

“Oh.”  Yup, there it is.

“Um… unless you really, really want it back.”

Well, I would like it back, but “You know, man, it’s really your… call—”

“Cool, thank you,” Ryan hurriedly answers.  Alrighty then.

Jim, not appreciating Ryan’s actions, quickly grabs his stuff and slinks over to the desk across from Dwight, “This one taken?  No?  Good.”  Pan over to Pam who looks at the camera, annoyed for Jim, as she turns back to the computer.

“Yeah, Jim is a nice guy,” Ryan confirms to the crew, “That’s why I got the desk,” he finishes with his own signature smirk.  Hey, if he says it with enough confidence then it must be true, right?

Thankfully, Jim’s other reunions throughout the day aren’t nearly as awkward.
— Kevin tells him that if he wants any of his M&Ms, his jar is under the table; he has to hide it from them.
— Angela tells him he needs a haircut; it’s flipping out on the sides.
— He and Toby share a fist bump; it takes Jim a bit to realize what that is.
— Kelly has so much to tell him!  Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes now have a baby and they named it Suri.  And now Brangelina have a daughter named Shiloh.  And both babies are amazing!  That’s pretty much it.

It feels good to be back.

Toby gives Kevin an important task, probably his favorite thing to do in the office: shredding company documents.

“In general, they do not give me much responsibility,” Kevin admits to the crew, “But they do let me shred the company documents.  And that is really all I need.”  He beams with pride as he looks down at his own Staples brand shredder.

It truly is the simple things in life.

Dwight watches on in righteous fury as Andy continues to brown-nose his new boss; it’s finally time to make his presence known to the enemy.

“Hello.  I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Dwight says to Andy, “Dwight Schrute, Assistant Regional Manager.”

“Andy Bernard, Regional Director in Charge of Sales.”  A real title, actually, just not one he has.

“So you’ll be reporting to me, then.”

“Mm, on the contrary.”

“My title has ‘Manager’ in it.”

“And I’m a director.”  He’s not.

“Oh.”

“Which on a film set is the highest title there is.  Do you know anything about film?”

“I know everything about film.  I’ve seen over 240 of them.”

“Congratulations.”

Their forced grimaces and never-ending handshake proves that the seeds of war have just been planted.

Jim’s not sure why he was so fixated on the whole desk thing.  I mean, why does it matter?  It’s a desk, there’s another one right there.  The office looks the exact same, just with more desks.  Pam wore a blue dress.  It just happened to be Casino Night.  Maybe he’s just wanting to go back to a time where everything was normal.  Before he left.  Before the piss-poor decision that inadvertently caused this to happen in the first place thanks to Jan’s intervention (then again he thanks God Scranton’s still open).

He wants to forget that Stamford ever happened, but he can’t.

So Pam, ever-perceptive, sees that he’s not busy and walks over to Jim’s desk.  “This is weird with you facing the other way,” she quietly mentions.

Her plan is working, “Yeah, I never even knew that part of the office existed,” she chuckles at his response, “Hey, who’s that guy?” he asks, pointing at Stanley.

“That’s Stanley Hudson.”
“Huh.”
“He’s one of our salesmen.”

“Seems like a nice enough guy,” he states, noticing him mid-crossword.

“Oh, very.”

“What about, uh…” he points at Meredith.

“Hmm, that is… Janet Fenstermaker.”

“Really?”

She nods, “You should say hi.  Use her full name.”

“Thank you for all of this,” his sarcasm is on full display, “This is so helpful.  You know what?  One last question,” he points over to Creed reading the paper, “Um, who is that fine older gentleman in the corner?”

“Uh, that is Creed Bratton.  He has four toes and he fought in the Civil war.”

“For the North.”

“For both sides.  Whoever paid more.”

“Obviously.”
“Yeah.”

“Hey, uh sorry,” Ryan interjects, “Seriously, can you guys… I’m trying to get some work done.”

The two look at each other and realize that, yeah, they are on the clock.  The “work reunion” idea really was a poor one in hindsight.

“Oh yeah.”
“Sorry, man.”
“Sorry about that.”  Pam slinks back to her desk as Jim continues his lull, doing nothing.

“Thanks.”  God, they’re annoying.  They really do deserve each other.

Pam felt the need to say something, so an AOL direct message shows up on his computer:

Receptionitis15: Sorry I got you in trouble. :(

JIM9334: Don’t apologize, I kinda needed that. :)

He can practically see her face brighten from behind, as his face does as well.

Turn to Karen who takes notice of Jim, specifically… and looks puzzled.

Kevin accidentally breaks the shredder trying to shred his credit card.

Thankfully, he has cash.

“We need to talk!”  Dwight bursts in as Michael prepares his presentation.

“Not now.”

“Which is higher?  Assistant Regional Manager or Regional Director in Charge of Sales?”

“I told you the titles are irrelevant.  They just relate to pay scale.”  Michael’s not too far off.

“Okay, so who gets paid more?  Me or Andy?”

“It is not a matter of more or less.  Your pay is just different.  Okay?”  He just needs to practice for his big show today.  “All right!  Showtime, Part One.”

“Okay, who reports to who?”

“I don’t care, Dwight!  You all report to me!  That’s all that matters!  The rest of it, just work out amongst yourselves, okay?”  This, in retrospect, was probably the worst thing he could have said.

“And then if I want—”
“Work it out amongst yourselves!”
“I—”
“Please!  I have a company to run.  Will you let me run the company?”

“I—”
“Will you?”
“One:—”
“Please?”

And, for the first time in eight years, Dwight walks out of Michael’s office, dejected.  He’s always been undervalued, underappreciated, under-loved.  And here comes some fancy haircut who seeks to steal his reputation right from under him.  And it’s not even Jim!

And Michael, well, he often doesn’t know what he has until it’s gone.

Don’t worry, Dwight, history will vindicate you soon enough.

The official Merger Day All-Family Welcome Breakfast has commenced!
…For the Stamford guests, that is.

Jim sees Michael deny his fellow employees champagne and salmon because they’re for “Guests only,” Jim leans over to Pam, “Y’know if I get salmon and give some to you, does that still count?”

“Mm, I’m not hungry enough.”

“Right, we’ll try it later.”

“Awesome.”
“Yeah.”

Their demeanor just puzzles Karen even more.

After Toby gives Michael the orientation tools (which he promptly denies), he decides to present the office with a video that will answer all of their questions: ‘Lazy Scranton’.

It is exactly what you think it is.

Jim aptly describes it to the crew later on, “It reminds me of the orientation video showed on my first day. ‘The Scranton Witch Project’.”  (“I am so scared… when people don’t label their personal food.”)

Michael says it’s an A++.  Clearly.

Karen has felt out of place all day, more so than Jim.

Jim hasn’t been ghosting her, per se, but he’s been around Pam most of the day so far.  It makes sense, the two have been separated for the better part of six months, topped off with a complicated history before his transfer in mid-May, Romeo-and-Juliet-ing for six damn years.  They’ve certainly earned today, for sure.  But shouldn’t her feelings be considered, too?  Isn’t she going through what Pam went through for years?  It’s stinging far more than it should.

Maybe Scranton was a mistake.

She dwells on this as she records her answering machine, “This is Karen Filippelli.  Please leave a message.”

Jim, overhearing, decides to do what he’s always done for her: brighten her day, “Terrible.  Totally unconvincing.”

She smiles and does another take, “This is Karen Filippelli.  Please leave a message.”

“Not bad, but you are Italian so… try it more Italian.”

And she goes full Mario, “Dis is Kar-en Fili-péll-li.  Please leave-a me de més-sage.  A bon danza.”

He chuckles, “You feel good?”
“Mm-hm.”
“All right.”

For a brief moment, Stamford Jim was back… and was gone again in a flash.  She just has to accept that “Stamford Jim” was never a thing.  It was never meant to be.  Her answering machine greeting ended up a simple ‘“Karen Filippelli” is not available.’

Pan over to Pam once again, feeling a strong sense of remorse.  Falling for Jim is her biggest beef with Karen, and even then she respects both of them and their relationship.  Shouldn’t Karen’s feelings be considered, too?  Isn’t Karen going through what she went through for years?  She understands far too well to not do something.  She needs to reach out to her.

Besides, it’d be nice to have a real friend in the office.

“Hey, buddy,” Andy greets Dwight, “Anything new to report?”

“Do you mean to me?  From you?” he leans in for emphasis, “’Cause that’s how it works.”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

Dwight freezes, realizing that Andy isn’t intimidated by him… and he’s starting to get intimidated by Andy.  As pathetic as that sounds.

“Am I trying to get under his skin?” Andy answers the crew, “Yes.  Because the angrier he gets, the more marginalized he becomes.  Meanwhile, Andy Bernard is out there layin’ on the charm.”  If that’s what you call it.  It’s rather unfortunate since, if he’s going after Dwight, the branch might not have a backbone anymore… much like Andy himself, funnily enough.

His gaining Angela’s interest with a cat screensaver doesn’t help Dwight any, either.  Give Andy this, he knows what he’s doing.

“Hey!” Pam greets Jim happily as he enters the breakroom.

“Hey!” Jim returns.

“Got you one,” she hands him a grape soda.

“Oh, thanks.  I was gonna get bottled water.”

She smirks, sitting down at one of the tables, “Still on that phase?”

“I’ve evolved, Pam,” he jokes grabbing the bottle, “you know this.”

“Oh yeah, you’ve changed so much,” she retorts sarcastically.

He grabs the soda as he sits by her, “I’ll drink this during lunch.”

“You don’t have to,” she responds sweetly.

He holds her hand over the table, “Trust me, I’m gonna need it.”

Her smile brightens the room as she leans over to kiss him on the cheek.  “So, are you settled?”

“Well, there’s still—”

“Uh, excuse me?” Toby quietly interrupts.

“Hey.”
“What’s up?”

“I just wanted to remind you two of rules, ’bout… PDA.”

They look at each other and realize what’s happening.

“Oh.  We’re so sorry—”
“Yeah, w-we don’t mean to—”

“No no, you guys are fine,” Toby, wanting Pam — well, really both to be happy — simply nods in understanding, “just… y’know.”

“Oh, of course.”
“Sure thing, man.”

And enter Michael, who looks at the display and decides to ‘help,’ “Is he bothering you two?” he asks the couple, pointing to Toby.

“No, he’s fine.”
“He’s not bothering us.”

He directs his attention to Toby, “What is it, Toby, that you have against their love?”

“Michael, I wasn’t… trying to—”

“It’s beautiful…”

Pam pipes up, “Michael—”

“It’s young…”

Jim’s up next, “Don’t—”

“I-it’s supple…”

“Oh, God.”
“Mm-mm, nope.”

“In fact,” Michael points to the two, “Go ahead.  Kiss again.”  The two freeze.  “Let your love… flow through you.”

“All right!  I should probably get back to work,” Jim hurriedly gets up and walks out.

“Yeah, I-I think I hear…” she doesn’t bother as she just as quickly speeds out of there.

Michael turns back to Toby incredulously, “You see what you do?”

Toby awaits that fateful plane ride to Costa Rica yet again.

“Today’s been… okay,” Jim admits to the crew, “I’d say a little chaotic, a lot of distractions, but overall… not bad?” he looks to the camera inquisitively, not sure of his answer, “Yeah, that’s it.”

As Jim passes Karen drinking her coffee on his way back to work, Pam follows, but stops when she sees her, “Hello again.”

“Oh, hey!” Karen greets.

Come on, just be honest.  “I just wanted to thank you for being there for Jim.”  Well, it’s the best I got.

Karen can’t help but feel bad.  Pam doesn’t have a reason to feel like this, this is her deal.  Pam just wants to be her friend, and she can tell she’s a good friend, too.  She does want another friend in this office besides her crush, even if it is his girlfriend.  “Of course,” she responds genuinely, “He’s a great guy.”

“He really is,” Pam wonders how to proceed next, “I’m sorry he ruined Call of Duty for you.”

And Karen instantly likes her, “Don’t be, it’s downright adorable.”

What a relief!  “I’ve never picked up a game controller in my life and I had to give him pointers.”

“That is amazing,” Karen’s near laughter, “Frankly, I’m just glad he didn’t throw up in my car.  You know about that, right?”

“Oh, yeah yeah.”  I hope Jim can forgive me.  “Hey, lean in… He threw up in mine.”

Well, now Karen needs to know, “Tell me everything.”

“Well, it was our three month—”

“Hey, girls, what’s happening?” another impromptu and unnecessary appearance from Michael, “Starting to blend?” He looks at the camera for his excellent pun as both ladies nod with small smiles, “Well, before long, you guys keep hanging out, you two you are gonna share the same menstrual cycle.”  As Michael walks out, Karen’s eyes widen in absolute shock as Pam quietly apologizes for him.

Karen just shrugs it off.  Hopefully she’ll make this challenge feel less grueling.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, the Stamford and Scranton employees don’t get along very well.

For instance, Hannah using her breast pump in the middle of the workday for everyone to see, providing Ryan with yet another distraction and another bombed sales call.  Her left breast caught Creed’s eye, and it ended up on his computer (right place, right time).  She’s also a neat freak that separates things from hers and Meredith’s desk, who is nonplussed.

Then there’s Martin, who’s happy to have another hard-working Black man working in the same industry.  Stanley couldn’t care less.  Also, Martin can’t ignore the intense death smell of Creed’s mung beans.

Speaking of smells, Karen does not make a good first impression on Phyllis, as she’s not a fan of her perfume.  “Bob Vance bought this perfume for me in Metropolitan Orlando,” Phyllis passive-aggressively informs her, “It’s made from real pine.”

“Who’s Bob Vance?” Karen asks.

“You have a lot to learn about this town, sweetie.”  Indeed she does.  Stanley put up with the perfume for years, why can’t these new people?

Dwight further continues to stew as Andy makes a good first impression on Kevin.  Andy’s setting the seed to every Scrantonite there is.  He’s threatening Dwight’s rule.

He has to go.

“People hate people that are different from them, that’s natural,” Michael responds to all the uncomfortable exchanges to the crew, “But you know what makes people forget their differences?  A great show.  That is why I created the ‘Integration Celebration’.  This is the moment when Scranton and Stamford come together as one.  United… in applause.”

And, like all of Michael’s plans, it’ll go off without a hitch.

The meeting begins with a painful Night at the Roxbury reference (where Andy upstages Dwight once more).  Jim accepts this is happening while poor Tony is getting chest-bumped by Michael and Andy.

Next up, the table thing.  “Why are the new people on the table?  To show them that we are not above them.”

“Shouldn’t we be equals?” Karen rightfully asks.

“Not today, no.”  That stands to reason.  “Tony!  Please join your cohorts on the table if you would.”

Tony politely refuses, “Uh, this is difficult, for me.”

“I understand.  We’re all friends.”

“No, I mean I can’t.  Physically.  I can’t get on the table.”

“Oh, well.  Just use the momentum of your lower half to hoist yourself up.”

Tony refuses Michael’s help, so naturally, Michael and Dwight try to help, resulting in an outburst from Tony, who’s just done.  “It’s just not going to work for me.”

“What—”

“I have to go.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was on the fence about this and… it’s just not a good fit.”  The camera doesn’t catch Karen’s reaction to that.

“Well, we’ll squeeze you in.”

“I can’t work here.  I have to quit.”

Yup, Tony Gardner is quitting his job in Dunder Mifflin Scranton on his first day.  It’s not the first time this has happened.

“You can’t quit!” Michael says nervously, “On the first day.  That’s— heresy, my friend!” he tries to find the root cause, “Okay, let’s talk about this.  What happened?  I mean, what… Was it Toby?  Did he say something? Cause he’s… what?”

Tony is honest to Michael, which brings about his downfall, “No.  Toby was helpful, he was very kind… it’s just your management style.”

Oddly enough, this statement is not what sets the bomb off, but rather Tony admitting he thought ‘Lazy Scranton’ wasn’t meant to be funny.

Michael outright fires Tony right there, telling Dwight that it was the best advice he’s ever given him, finally beating Andy at his own game.  Then Dwight immediately pushes his luck by telling Michael to fire Andy, who’s too angry about Tony’s comments on ‘Lazy Scranton’.

“Dwight may have won the battle,” Andy tells the crew, “But I will win… the next battle.”  Oh, but Andy won’t be winning the war.

And thus, the whole office collectively decides that they just have to work together, not get along.  Michael refuses this notion, as he tells the crew, “The word merger comes from the word marriage.”  Sure.  “And that was what today was supposed to be.  The loving union between people.  Instead, it has become like… when my Mom moved in with Jeff.  And once again, it becomes my job to fix it.”  This one anecdote explains so much.

So now he claims that Vance Refrigeration’s crew slashed all of their tires.  Pam immediately joins Jim as he puts his coat on, as Karen walks up to the two, “Does Bob Vance work for Vance Refrigeration?”

“Mm-hm,” Pam responds as she grabs her coat.

“Does he ever,” Jim replies as the three of them lightly chuckle about it.

Hopefully, Scranton will become the challenge she needs.  It will, in a way.

So as Michael attempts to get all of them to steal refrigerators so they can work together (shaming them for not doing so) leaving practically everyone flabbergasted (except for Dwight, who was in on it.)

“This is EGREGIOUS!” Michael shouts as the camera focuses on Pam lovingly rubbing Jim’s back, “This is egregious!” Turn to Karen, wearing a look that can best be described as ‘acceptance.’  Nothing to be done now.  Besides, they’re her friends.  She’s finally starting to get over it.  The impact is lessening, the grip is loosening.

Michael did do one thing right today: he finally got them all to work together and get along… by acting as unprofessional as he’s ever been.

In the end, the bind that ties is the hatred of one Michael Gary Scott.

Thankfully, Karen’s quick on the uptake and knows who Bob Vance is now.  Phyllis beams at the girl.  She’s learning.

“See that?  Mission accomplished,” Michael states proudly from his office, “Like a bunch of fourth-graders.  Sometimes, what brings the kids together is hating the lunch lady.  Although that’ll change.”  Maybe.  “Because, by the end of the fourth grade, the lunch lady was actually the person I hung out with the most.”  Again, this statement explains so much.

He hears the phone ring, “Jell-o!”

Of course, it’s Jan.  [“Michael!”]

“Hi, Jan!”
[“Did you fire Tony Gardner when he was trying to quit?”]

“I did.  Major personnel crisis averted.  Compliment accepted.”

[“Do you realize, Michael, that we now have to pay him severance?”]

“Yes. … ”

[“You do?”]

“…But do you realize that that was actually Dwight’s idea?” of course he’s throwing him under the bus, “Bad advice from my Number Two.”

[“What— no.  No.  No, Jim is your Number Two.”]

“What?”

[“He’s the only one who has worked with both groups.  I sent you a memo about this.”]

“Yes, I know that.  For, I do read the memos.”  He does not read the memos.

So after a brief argument from Dwight and Andy as to who would be Number Three, all three salesmen walk out of his office, Jim approaching Pam’s desk once again.

She looks at him knowingly, “Still A.R.M.?”

“Oddly enough, yes.”

“Thank God.”

He leans in, “You still up for tonight?”

“Yeah,” she responds quietly, “Are you?”

“I… I think it’d be nice.”

“Yeah,” she responds.  She can sense something’s up.  “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

She looks at him, Wanna talk about it?

He shakes his head, Not here.

Okay.

“Night, guys!” Karen signals to the two.

“Goodnight!”
“Night.”

Karen walks to the elevator where she sees a young man waiting for it as well.  “So, where are you off to?”

“The grocery store.  Buying a corkscrew to give myself a lobotomy.”

He laughs, “What’s wrong?  You didn’t have a good first day?”

“Oh, my God!”

“Some of the others and I are gonna meet at Cooper’s in an hour.  Care to join?”

“I’d like that, I need a drink.”

“You and me both.”

She turns to him, “Ryan, is it?”

“Ryan Howard.”  He sticks out his hand.

She returns it, “Karen Filipelli.”

Maybe this won’t be such a challenge, after all.

Kevin’s at his desk making his salad with his brand-new shredder, with thousand-island to boot.

“Where’d you get that salad?” Meredith asks.

“Staples.”

Soon after Karen and Ryan’s departure, Andy and Dwight have their own interaction in the elevator.

“Saw your dorkmobile in the parking lot.  What does it get, like four miles to the gallon?”

“Uh, try double that.  Classic TransAm, vintage American muscle.  Tsh.”

“Yeah, my Xterra’s pretty sweet.  Luxurious, yet rugged.  Leave it to the Japanese.”

“Xterra’s not even a real word.”

“Actually, it is.  It’s Latin for ‘earth’.”

“Oh, so you drive an ‘Xearth’?”

“Yeah.”

“That makes sense.  I’d rather drive a classic TransAm than an ‘Xearth’.”

“Yeah, I bet you would.  Oh, uh, by the way, 1985 called.  It wants its car back.”

“Well, I hope 1985 has a time machine ’cause I drive an ’87.”

“Oh, speaking of time machines, I just got back from the future and I went to your funeral, and guess what, nobody came.”

“Speaking of funerals, why don’t you go ahead and go die.”

“Oh, that was a really well-constructed sentence.  You should be an English professor at Cor-not University.”

“Idiot!”

“If I were an idiot, I’d be driving a TransAm.”

“If you were driving a TransAm, you would be the smartest idiot in the whole world.”

“*cough*I-Idiot!*cough*”

“*cough*Y-you’re the *cough*i-idiot!”

“*cough*N-nice *cough*c-come*cough*b-back!”

“*cough*I was making fun of *cough*y-your comeback!  *cough*T-that’s why it *cough*worke-d!”  As Andy walks out, Dwight turns to the camera, “Totally got the best of that interchange.”  He then starts to cough heavily.

Now the war has truly begun.

Jim’s leaning by his car as Creed drives off.

“Night, Creed.”

“So long, Tim!”

He then sees Pam walk out of the building, “You finished?”

“Yeah,” they meet halfway and embrace, “Thanks for the ride, by the way,” she says, looking up at him.

“Sure,” he kisses the top of her head.

Now for her to find out what’s off, “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing.  Today felt… a little weird, don’t you think?”

“That’s probably on me.  The whole ‘work reunion’ thing didn’t pan out as I hoped.”

“Hey, you were the best part about today.”

“Thank you,” she grabs him tighter as he does the same.

He sighs and slowly lets go of her but holds her hands, “Even though I’ve come back… I just, I feel like I haven’t really… come back.”

Pam looks at him and understands.  He now needs to adjust to a lot more than a new desk.  She flashes a supportive smile, “You will.  It’s only day one.  Give it time.”

He nods, “Yeah, you’re right.”  After another kiss on the lips, he grabs his iPod, “Oh, by the way, tell your mom I said thanks again for the new iPod.  She really didn’t have to.”

“She told me it was the least she could do, she felt bad for missing your birthday.”

“She’s fine,” they set in motion what they planned earlier, “Well, got some new music on it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he hands her an earbud.  With a knowing smirk, she takes it and puts it in her ear.  After he presses play, the two take a second and beam at each other — Pam nearing happy tears as Jim brushes them away, his face sore from smiling — and the melodic sounds of guitar riffs leads to them dance-swaying in the parking lot after everyone else has left.

A weird day, to be sure, but not a bad one.  At least now there’s no reason to hide.  The office finally knows, the cameras finally got their story, and Jim Halpert and Pam Beesly finally get their peace.  A six-month slog that became worth every laugh, every tear, every argument, every text, phone call, letter, gift, everything.  Beyond that, the fact that their coworkers were so supportive of their relationship when it was announced, topped off with Michael’s oddly touching if self-indulgent and confused speech, just proves not only how kind and supportive they can be when they’re not being their coworkers, but also that they saw this coming; that moment made the two realize how perceptive those crazies really are.  Jim’s departure made the office quiet and remorseful, but his return was met with hearts soaring with the eagle’s nest.

This chapter of their lives has ended, with many more to come, all captured on camera for the world to see.  But for now, the Heart of Dunder Mifflin Scranton has returned, reunited with the one who’ll keep it beating.

All this feels strange and untrue
And I won’t waste a minute without you…