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You know how the military has that saying: “Don’t ask, don’t tell?” Oscar rubbed his lips together tightly in frustration. I really wish someone would just ask me, so I could get the hell out of here.
I’m tired. I’m sweaty. I have four broken nails and there is dirt in my hair. Kelly looked as though she might cry. Dirt.
I remember when I first started at the temp agency, my supervisor told me ‘Ryan, you’re going to do great things in the world of business.’ Ryan shook his head miserably. Sergeant Miller told me today that I was a ‘miserable maggot who couldn’t sell water to a thirsty man’ so…” he trailed off. We’ll see who turns out to be right.
Stanley just stared at the camera like an angry bear that was denied hibernation.
The Bible says to ‘Love thy neighbor.’ Angela’s eyes narrowed. Michael was not God’s neighbor when that rule was implemented.
Pam put a hand to her mouth as she yawned. Sorry, I’m just really tired. I haven’t been, uh, sleeping well. The days are really long and early wake up calls and…a lot of stuff on my mind so, yeah. I really want to go home.
Best vacation of my life. Creed stated proudly.
There’s nothing really about this training that is ‘basic’ except that basically, it was a disaster. Jim cast a disappointed look to the camera. In…every way possible.
Overall, yes, I do think it’s going well, except…Michael frowned and then continued in a hushed tone. They’re all kind of making me look bad. Here I am, showing all of my great leadership skills and they’re just unable to be led! It’s embarrassing, really.
xxx
It was the last night of basic training and thoroughly exhausted from the emotional and physical wear and tear of the weekend, the employees settled into bed early. All except for Jim and Pam, as it was their turn for cafeteria clean-up duty. They planted themselves at the sinks in the back of the kitchen, adorned in aprons and rubber gloves with Jim washing dishes and Pam drying. It was now an hour into their shift and there had been virtually no talking, driving Jim slowly into madness.
“You’re working that apron, Beesley,” he attempted to sound light and casual. Her response was merely a weak smile, her eyes never leaving the dish in front of her.
Jim, never being one to give up easily, persisted. “I think you could start a new trend. Receptionists all over the world sporting aprons; Paris, Milan, Tokyo, New York—“ He stopped mid-sentence and winced. It had flown out of his mouth before he could stop it and by the look on her face, he knew he had it coming.
“Ha, right, New York. Just promise you’ll come to the fashion show when it’s there and say hi, if you’re not too busy with work or anything.” Pam had given up on even attempting to be civil, too hurt to bother. He obviously didn’t care about her feelings and she didn’t feel a particular need to care about his.
Jim threw down his sponge into the soapy sink and firmly grabbed her by the shoulders and turned him towards her, the plate in her hands crashing to the floor.
“I don’t know what Karen said to you, but I guarantee you it’s not true.”
“So you didn’t have an interview in New York?” she challenged.
“Yes, I did. But I have in no way taken the job, and frankly, don’t have any intentions on taking it. It’s a totally impersonal place, not much better pay, the boss is a complete psycho—“ he paused and gave a small smile and even Pam relented with one of her own. “Plus it’s just too far. From family, friends…everything that I care about.” His grip on her had become softer, along with the way in which he now looked at her and it made Pam uneasy to see something so familiar behind those eyes. That sense of something much bigger layered in his words that she had at one time always ignored. But now, she had no reason to.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so…just the thought of you leaving again,” she shook her head, eyes cast downward to the broken shards of ceramic at their feet. She felt a finger touch her chin, gently lifting it upward so she could see him, his expression much more gentle accompanied with a crooked grin.
“Hate to break it to you, but it takes a lot more than Michael’s poor excuse for boot camp to get rid of me. So looks like you’re stuck with me for a while longer,” Jim made a face and shrugged.
Pam’s smile broadened. “There are worse things, I guess.”
With the tension between them finally gone, the rest of clean up went much more quickly as they laughed at the debacle the trip had turned into. At one point an audible noise sounded from Jim’s stomach.
“Whoa,” Pam’s eyes widened and she let out a giggle. “Hungry?”
“I don’t see how I could be after that delicious serving of mush at dinner.” He hopped off the kitchen counter and moved toward the large steel fridge.
Pam smirked and lifted herself up to the spot he had just vacated. “Looking for more mush?”
Jim kept rummaging through the various packages of unidentifiable meat. “I thought I saw…Aha!” He produced two wrapped popsicles triumphantly.
“What? How did you find those?” Pam squealed, leaping off the counter to examine the dessert more closely, as if she were afraid they wouldn’t be real.
“I was almost sure I saw one of the servers eating one of these earlier. Grape or raspberry?” he held the two out to her.
“Oh like you even have to ask,” Pam winked and grabbed the raspberry popsicle, ripping the plastic wrapper off biting a piece of the flavored ice. She closed her eyes and sighed in contentment.
“Wow, do I need to leave you two alone?” Jim teased, taking his own bite of the refreshing treat.
They ate quickly, the heat of the kitchen causing the popsicles to melt and leak sticky sugar all over their hands. The licked the last remnant off of the wooden sticks and threw them into the trashcan.
“What color is my tongue?” Pam suddenly asked, thrusting it out of her mouth.
“Well, Pam, it appears to be red…much like the color of a normal tongue.”
She shot a mock glare at him. “Let me see yours.”
“Why?”
“Just because.”
“That’s not a good enough reason.”
“I want to see if it’s purple!”
“I’ve been sucking on a grape popsicle for the last fifteen minutes. Trust me, it’s purple.”
“Jim!” Pam whined, laughing at their childish argument.
“So demanding,” Jim rolled his eyes before surrendering and sticking out his tongue. Suddenly Pam’s face knitted in concern.
“Jim, are there supposed to be those white splotches on there?”
“What?” Jim looked around in alarm for something to look into, finally grabbing a spoon and searching frantically for the white splotches. Then reality settled in and he looked at a grinning Pam.
“Sorry, I just really wanted to see you do that,” she giggled.
“That’s like the second time you’ve messed with me since we’ve been here, Beesley, I’m not sure I appreciate it.”
Pam let a few more laughs escape before becoming quiet.
“I’m glad you’re not moving.”
“Me too,” Jim said in a low voice.
“How does…I mean, is Karen okay about it?”
“Probably not. The thing is,” Jim shoved his hands in his pockets and Pam turned her body toward him, eager to listen. “I don’t think she wanted me to get it so that I’d be happier. She wanted me to get it so that she’d be happier. Living vicariously through me, or embarrassed to have a paper salesman as a boyfriend.” He shrugged and Pam’s heart broke just enough for her to gently take his hand. The gesture caused him to look up at her.
“You’re a lot more than a paper salesman, Jim. You’re a lot more than a marketer, too. If she can’t see that…” Pam stopped and let a small smile finish her thought.
Jim gave her hand a squeeze and then jerked his head toward the door.
“Let’s get out of here. The sooner we’re asleep, the sooner morning comes and we are officially done. And things go right back to normal.”
Pam smirked. “Right. Normal.”
