Pam walked into the office at 9:10 AM, grumpy and tired.  Roy had come in late the night before, drunk off his ass.  When she had fended off his clumsy attempts to have sex with her, he had gotten angry and started screaming.  She hadn’t gotten to sleep until three in the morning, and this morning the neighbors had asked her if she wouldn’t mind “keeping her problems to herself.”



As a result of last night’s mess, Pam’s shirt was wrinkled, she hadn’t gotten a chance to take a shower and she hadn’t been able to find her comfortable shoes, so she had to wear the ones that pinched her toes horribly.  This day is already awful and it’s not even ten yet, she thought, utterly miserable.



She hung her coat on the coat rack and tossed her purse beneath her desk.  Just as she was about to sit down and listen to the messages, Jim came running out of the break room.  The only word to describe the look on his face was utter joy.



He ran straight into her desk, his hands splayed on its surface. He leaned forward eagerly, grinning at her, but his smile dimmed when he saw the look on her face.  “Hey, are you okay?” he asked.



Pam sighed.  “Long night.”  She felt suddenly better though, seeing how Jim had immediately known something was wrong and that he cared.



He grinned again.  “I have something to totally cure that,” he assured her.



Pam recognized that mischievous glint in his eyes and the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth.  “What did Michael do today?”



“Not Michael, Dwight.  You, you -- just come see.”  He grabbed her hand and led her towards the break room. 


Inside the break room, Dwight was sitting in front of the wall where they had gotten their picture IDs taken.  “Where’d you go, Jim?” he asked angrily.  “You know I require complete and utter devotion to this project.”



“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Jim agreed quickly.  “Just, uh, I think Pam wants to help out, too.  Why don’t you tell her what you have planned?”



Dwight looked at Pam intensely.  “I have decided that I am going to be the next Survivor champion, and we are filming my audition video.  I asked Michael to help, but he refused, and Jim volunteered.  Fairly quickly, actually…”  Dwight looked at Jim suspiciously.  It was obvious he didn’t trust Jim’s motives.



Pam looked at Jim, her face full of delight.  She had already forgotten everything about the night before.  The day was too full of new opportunities to mock Dwight.  Who cared about Roy?



“I know,” Jim whispered to Pam, his voice soft with awe.  His eyes widened at her.



She quickly turned back to look at Dwight.  “So, uh, what are you guys working on now?” Pam asked, her hands folded innocently behind her.



“We were doing the interview portion before you interrupted,” Dwight said, gesturing towards the video camera that lay abandoned on the table.



“Oh, okay, I’m sorry.  Please, continue,” she encouraged.  She had to fight so hard not to smile!



Jim grabbed the video camera and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees.  “Okay, Dwight,” he said, “where do you want to pick up?”



Dwight sighed, obviously tortured by having to deal with such incompetence.  “Let’s just start from the top,” he said, turning to face the camera dead on.  He closed his eyes for a moment, composing himself.  His eyes opened suddenly, and he said, “Go.”



Jim pressed the red recording button, and gave a thumbs up.  Pam pulled up a chair next to Jim.  You couldn’t pay for this kind of entertainment! she thought gleefully.



“Hello, ABC.  My name is Dwight Kurt Schrute, and I would be the ultimate competitor on your high-intensity reality show, Survivor.  I am trained in three different types of martial arts, I have a superior immune system, I was a volunteer forest ranger as a child and I can go for three weeks without water.”



“That’s impossible,” Jim said.



“What?”



“You can’t survive without water for three weeks.”



“Maybe you can’t,” Dwight sniffed, “I can.”



“Oh, okay,” Jim smiled, giving a look to the cameras that watched them from outside the break room.



“Why don’t you tell ABC about where you work, Dwight?” Pam suggested.



Dwight turned back to the handheld camera.  “I work at the Pennsylvania-based paper company, Dunder-Mifflin, only the best paper company in the country.”



“What, uh, what position do you hold in this company?” Pam asked, and Jim fought a smile.  He knew where she was going with this.



Dwight puffed out his chest proudly.  “I am the Assistant Regional Manager of the Scranton branch.”



“Don’t you mean ‘Assistant to the Regional Manager’?” Jim asked, the picture of innocence.



“No, Jim, just shut up.”  Dwight hissed, narrowing his eyes. 



Kevin walked into the break room, holding some change in his hand.  He was about to head over to the vending machine when he saw the others.  “Hey, guys,” he said, “what’s going on?”



“We’re filming Dwight’s audition video for Survivor,” Pam said.



Kevin’s eyes widened.  “Cool.” 



“Um, guys?”  Dwight spoke as if talking to someone much stupider than he was.  “Can we focus for ten minutes on my interview?  I haven’t even started talking about my weapons training.”



“Hey -- hey Dwight, do you want me to say something, like, you know, as a recommendation?” Jim said, trying to hide the hope in his voice.



Dwight frowned, scrutinizing Jim.  “Do you promise to not pull any pranks?”



Jim nodded enthusiastically.



“Fine,” Dwight sighed.



Jim shot out of his seat, handing the camera off to Pam. Her mouth was starting to hurt from trying to keep a straight face.  Jim settled himself in the chair in front of the wall, straightening his tie and crossing his legs.



Pam held up the camera.  “And…action!”



Jim leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee.  “’allo, moi name is James ’alpert.”



Pam almost lost it at his horrible, fake British accent.  Well, she thought he was trying for British.  He sounds like an Australian pirate or something! she thought helplessly, shaking her head. She swallowed and took a deep breath.  “How do you know Dwight, Mr. Halpert?”



Jim stared off into the distance with great concentration.  “Now let me see,” he pondered, “it must be goin’ on ‘bout fifteen years now.  Oi met Dwight Schrute when we was trainin’ for th’ Olympics. ”



Dwight looked nervously between Jim and the camera that Pam held.  “Jim…Jim!” he hissed, uncomfortable with such a blatant lie.



Jim just looked at Dwight and chuckled.  “Oh, Dwighty!  Bloody hell, ’ee’s the most modest bugger there is, oi swear!  There’s nobodies who’ll toss yer salad like Dwight Schrute!”



“Oh --!” Pam choked, clapping a hand over her mouth.  She had forgotten about Kevin, standing in the corner, until he began to snicker loudly.  Her shoulders shook silently, as Jim gave them both a look. 



Dwight glared at her, baring his teeth.  “What -- what is it, what does that mean?”



Pam composed herself.  “It, uh --” she coughed, “it means that um, when you -- you ‘toss somebody’s salad’ that you’ve, like, got their back.  You’re, uh, good for them in a fight.”



Jim smiled at her, and winked.  Dwight still looked suspicious, but he accepted her answer.  “Continue,” he said to Jim.



“That’s, er, that’s Dwight Schrute that is!  Yeh know, when you’re in a tight spot, nobodies will get behind yeh like Dwighty.  But, uh, ’ee can get nasty, ’ee can, when ’ee needs too.  Oi swear, ’e‘ll just wrestle, a -- a snake for fun!”



Pam’s eyes watered, and she bit her hand to keep from cracking up.  Kevin giggled and Jim’s chin was quivering as he tried to keep his own cool. Dwight was just nodding at Jim approvingly and Pam guessed that Dwight liked what he was hearing.



Pam knew that today was going to be a great day.