(Everyone is back at their new desks after lunch. Dwight is unloading paper from a large van as the warehouse guys watch.)
x x x x x
Toby: (standing next to Phyllis’ car, pointing to it over his shoulder) Yeah, Angela tracked me down to complain about Phyllis. Again. I’m not sure why she didn’t just ask Jim for the usual form. (He looks at the car, then down to the ground.) Huh.
(Camera pans down to a half-smoked joint next to Phyllis’ car.)
x x x x x
(Phyllis is adding invoice figures on a calculator. Camera catches her mistakenly entering “4,025” for “1,025”, but doesn’t alert her.)
(Michael is pacing in his office holding a slice of pizza. A partial pizza, order of breadsticks, and two huge soda cups are on his desk.)
x x x x x
Ryan: Michael insisted on ordering pizza so we could work through lunch. I’ve told him I have to use the bathroom. I’m going to have to use the bathroom a lot this afternoon.
x x x x x
(Dwight returns to his desk, sweaty. Angela watches him with her arms crossed.)
Dwight: Unbelievable. The first place wasn’t even open today. Then I drove a van full of paper to the second client, and they refused to accept it.
Angela: You have a message.
Dwight: (frowning as he glances at the name on the message, whispers) Starla?
(His phone rings; he answers) Dunder Mifflin Quality Control, Dwight Schrute speaking…Hello, sir…yes, I was just there…well, no, I didn’t leave the paper, it was refused…yes, of course, I explained that…no, sir, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be condescending…no, sir…yes, sir…I brought the paper to the loading dock…deliver it to the main lobby…yes, sir…of course…I’ll see to it personally. Good-b—
(Angela is watching him expectantly.)
Dwight: (has forgotten message) I have to go. (leaves)
Angela: (whispering fiercely) Who is Starla?!
(her phone rings; she answers.)
Angela: Dunder Mifflin Quality Control, this is Angela…(grabs a pink form)…I see…and who was your sales contact? (sighs, then begins writing)…Dwight. Schrute.
(Dwight is once again loading cases of paper into the van as the warehouse guys watch. When his back is turned, they joke at his expense. When he turns in their direction, they put on an intimidating front. The camera follows as he drives the van to a large office building, backs it up to the front door, and begins running boxes into the lobby. From a distance, the camera catches an altercation between Dwight and the office’s receptionist, then between Dwight and a security guard; throughout, Dwight continues to frantically unload paper, waving a pink form.)
(Ryan is back at Michael’s computer.)
Michael: What do we have so far?
Ryan: We have one character. Steel Widowmaker. (looks at the camera) Dark hair, convertible Sebring, gay-friendly condo.
Michael: (pacing) Okay—plot! Stooorrryyyy. Action! Let’s see, what would the regional manager of a pencil company do? Think! We need conflict…Oh! (straightens up and smiles at the camera) Improv!
x x x x x
Michael: Improvisation is a great tool. When used correctly, the possibilities are endless. Yeah, I was part of an improv class a while back, but I outgrew it. You know why? Too many rules. (sarcastically imitating improv instructor) No guns, no name-calling, no fondling. (throws up his hands) I mean, what is that about? Where’s the creative freedom in that?
x x x x x
Michael: Okay! Stand up…come over here. (Ryan reluctantly leaves his seat) Alright. I’m Steel, and you are going to be my boss. Okay. Setting. We’re at a bar…
Ryan: You and your boss are at a bar?
Michael: Not me, Ryan…Steel. Stay with me. Okay. (clears his throat, lowers and roughens his voice) You asked me here to talk about pencils?
Ryan: Um…yes?
Michael: (low, rough) There’s more to me than pencils, you know.
Ryan: There is?
Michael: (low, rough) We could talk business all night, or you could let me buy you another drink, and we’ll see what happens. (Winks at Ryan, who’s beginning to look worried)
Ryan: Uh…no, I’m good. Let’s get back to penc—
Michael: Screw pencils, Jane! (Ryan = horrified) Let’s have that drink!
Ryan: I gotta use the bathroom! (bolts)
(Pam’s in HR with Jim)
Jim: (laughing) He left again?!
Pam: (laughing) Yeah! But first he had to load all of the paper back into the van!
Jim: Oh, man.
Pam: Apparently, Darryl told him he has to stop and wash the van on his way back. “Company policy.”
Jim: Who told you that?
Pam: Roy.
Jim: (slightly deflated) Ah. So…has Starla called again?
Pam: No, not yet. But there’s an impressive pile of pink forms growing on Dwight’s desk.
Jim: Nice.
x x x x x
Jim: Oh, sure, we’re having a little fun at Dwight’s expense. I just wish I could see it unfolding. Pam’s a good spy. Sounds like my buddies are really coming through.
x x x x x
Pam: So, what’ve you been doing back here?
Jim: Oh, you know. Going through everyone’s HR files. (Pam giggles) Phyllis has quite a history…
Pam: Seriously?
Jim: No! Geez, what do you take me for? (aloof) I’m offended.
Pam: (grinning) But if you did find something, you’d tell me, right?
Jim: Agh. Away with you! Shoo! Go account for something! Some of us actually work around here.
(Pam leaves, chuckling)
(Dwight returns again, looking frazzled. He notices the pile of QC forms on his desk.)
Dwight: All of these came in while I was out? (starts flipping through the pink forms) “Wrong size envelopes” … “wanted recycled” … “ordered legal, got standard”. I don’t get it … I remember each of these.
(Angela looks at him, shakes her head as she answers her phone.)
Angela: Angela Martin. (frowns) Yes, he’s right here. I’ll transfer you.
Dwight: (picking up extension) Dwight Schrute speaking. Who? Do I know— yes, I went out after paintball Wednesday … we talked about beet farming?...wait, were you the redhead with the pink halter top? (Angela is glaring) Oh. We did what? I never let anyone touch that…
(Angela gasps and stands up. Pam heads quickly for HR. Angela throws Creed’s pen in his top drawer and slams it shut. Oscar and Kevin look up from a game of Hateball to watch as she quickly gathers her things and stalks back to her own desk.)
Meredith: It’s only 4:30.
Angela: I don’t care. Tsk. Look at this mess. Where is Pam?
Phyllis: I think she went to HR.
Angela: (drops into her chair) Hussy.
(Phyllis and Meredith exchange glances, then avoid Angela’s glare.)
(Dwight finishes his phone called looking dazed and disturbed. He’s still holding the stack of QC forms as he stands and looks over to Angela, who turns away. He turns and heads toward the back.)
(Pam’s leaning on the desk next to Jim)
Jim: Oh, Starla. Brava. (chuckles) Well, I think it’s time to call off the troops. They’ve had a busy day.
Pam: (smiles, then stands up as Dwight enters HR) Okay, well, I’ll, uh, get that form filled out for Toby… (leaves)
Jim: Yeah, good… (looks at dazed Dwight and the pink forms) Wow. (he reaches for a white HR complaint form) Toby said you might come back today. Here you go. (holds the form out to Dwight, but he waves it off.)
Dwight: Actually, I just came to give you this. (hands Jim a pink form)
Jim: Is this one of mine?
Dwight: Yes. They called to say your service was impeccable.
(Jim looks at the form, realizes it’s from a real client. He looks back up at Dwight, clearly beginning to feel bad.)
Jim: Hey, um, I’ll take those (indicating the pink forms) I’ll give them to Creed when he wakes up.
(Dwight, preoccupied, hands over the forms.)
Jim: Are…you okay, Dwight?
Dwight: (pause, then quietly) Question: have you ever doubted yourself?
Jim: Sure, buddy. (looks concerned)
Dwight: Because I never did. Until today.
Jim: (feels like shit) Oh, hey, Dwight. We all have days like that. You just have to, you know, step back and get some perspective. Trust yourself. Yeah?
Dwight: Yeah, I guess so.
Jim: And Dwight. If you think someone else may be doubting you, you should just talk to her. Or him.
Dwight: Right. Thanks, Jim. (turns to leave)
Jim: Sure, Dwight. (watches him leave, then dumps the pink forms in the wastebasket)
x x x x x
Jim: (looking down) Yeah, I think I was a little rough on Dwight and Angela today.
x x x x x
(Pam returns to accounting to find Angela in her seat, and Meredith absent.)
Pam: Oh, hi, Angela. Um, where’s Meredith?
Angela: (handing Pam her things unceremoniously) She had to go get her son from school. The secretary caught him playing with her shredder. (looks pointedly at Pam)
Pam: Oh. (sheepish glance to camera) I guess I’ll head back to reception.
(Pam goes to reception, where she relieves Kelly. After a wistful glance toward Michael’s office, Kelly heads back to her own desk, waking up Creed.)
x x x x x
Creed: I have no idea what Kelly’s job is. The phone rang a few times, but I was able to ignore it.
x x x x x
Kelly: (looking through her top drawer) Where’s my lip gloss?
(A chain reaction begins as Creed returns to his desk. Kevin returns to his, then Phyllis to hers, Oscar to his. Dwight returns to his desk, looks at Angela, bites his lip. Stanley looks at the clock. Michael opens his door, and Ryan emerges.)
Michael: Alright, Ryan! Good work today! I think we could be great writing partners…
Ryan: Oh, um. No.
x x x x x
Ryan: No.
x x x x x
Michael: So! How was the old switcheroo, guys? Anyone discover a hidden talent? A secret desire?
(Angela looks at Dwight. Toby enters.)
Michael: Where have you been?
Toby: You sent me to security.
Michael: Right, right. (cocks his head) Any chance you’ll want to stay down there?
Toby: Uh, no, I really prefer Human Resources, you know, helping people…
Michael: (rolls his eyes) Whatever.
(Toby relieves Jim at HR, Jim returns to his desk. Everyone is gathering their things and filing out.)
x x x x x
Michael: I think today was a big success. Hopefully everyone took advantage of the opportunity to peek into someone else’s desk, so to speak. (In the hall, Pam notices Dwight and Angela disappearing into the stairwell, and points it out to Jim as an eavesdropping opportunity. He shakes his head and waves her toward the elevator, as if to say, Nah, let’s leave them be. She follows.) And, I made good progress on my children’s book! (pauses, frowns) I’m a little worried about Ryan, though. I think he may have a bladder infection.
x x x x x
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