Jan 15, 2006

Jim stepped into the elevator on Monday morning. Before the door closed, he heard a familiar voice calling, "Yo! Dude!" He pushed the door open button and in came Steve, the heavyset vending machine guy wheeling a handcart full of boxes. "Dude," he said once more, this time as greeting.

"Hey Steve. Is that stuff for us?"

"Nah. Vance Refrigeration. Why? You running low? Need some more a those onion chips for your girlfriend?"

"She’s not my girlfriend. She just asked me to ask you for the onion ones. That’s all."

"Sure, Dude. Whatever you say. Anyway, we’re due to come to you guys on Wednesday."

"Cool. Wednesday’s perfect, as a matter of fact. Listen, I’ve got ten bucks for you, if you can do me a favor."

"Oh yeah? What kinda favor?"

Jim explained his plan to Steve. In honor of the mysterious Camaraderie event, Jim had something special planned. Berta, the AD of the documentary, had assured Jim that the camera crew would be around all day Wednesday in order to capture every moment of whatever Michael had planned. And since the camera crew enjoyed Jim’s pranks as much as he did, they would be sure to tape it.

"Which one’s Dwight? That goofy lookin’ one with the weird hair?"

"Yep. That’s him in a nutshell."

"That guy’s an idiot. Sure, I’ll do it. Just get me the stuff by 9:15. Cause I got rounds to do."

"No problem. See you Wednesday."

The elevator stopped and Steve headed towards Vance Refrigeration and Jim to Dunder Mifflin. His mood was definitely good. The past weekend with Katie had been a lot of fun. They had seen the new Harry Potter movie, and he had taken her out for Chinese food, at a place near Jim’s house that made very good beef with broccoli. They had slept late on Sunday, and then Jim had left, and gone over to his sister’s house for dinner and to play with his nephew, Davie. It was a good weekend, with no pressure. Jim was beginning to think that maybe getting back together with Katie wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Until he walked into the office and saw Pam, and his heart gave that all too familiar thump. He leaned over her desk and whispered, "Hey, I saw Steve this morning. They’re delivering here Wednesday."

"That’s perfect."

"Now comes the tricky part. Phase two."

"Are you sure phase two is necessary?"

"Absolutely…it’s essential to the whole gag."

"Okay. Good luck."

Jim sat down at his desk, and looked over his messages. Dwight came in and started arranging the items on his desk into a more perfect configuration. He lined his bobbleheads up just so, and arranged his pens and pencils neatly in his perforated cup holder. He carefully straightened his Dwight Schrute nameplate. It was a morning ritual that usually never failed to irritate Jim, no end. But this morning, it made him smile. Not since the first time he had encased Dwight’s stapler in Jell-O, did he have a plan that afforded him quite this much glee.

"Morning Dwight. Cold enough for ya?"

Dwight just glared at him. This was also part of their morning ritual. Jim stood up, clearing his throat to make sure Dwight noticed. He carefully removed his suit jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. He then picked up the morning newspaper he had brought from home, and went into the men’s room. He made sure to stay in there long enough to read the entire sports section. As he was coming out, Dwight was coming in, USA Today in hand. Jim looked at Dwight, specifically at his jacket, and opened his mouth as if to say something, but changed his mind, and just shook his head instead, and walked back to his desk. He put his jacket back on and sat down. He made a face at Pam and got to work, answering his messages.

Three more times that morning, Jim got up, removed his jacket and draped it over his chair before going to the men’s room. One of those time he did actually have to pee, but that part was not essential to the plan.

Finally after lunch, Dwight could stand it no longer. After Jim returned to his desk and put his jacket back on and sat down, Dwight slid his chair back so that he was even with Jim’s and said, "Question. I couldn’t help but notice that you have been taking your jacket off each time you go to the men’s room."

"That’s not a question, Dwight."

"I was getting to the question. Why?"

Jim looked surprised, "What…you mean you didn’t read the article? I just assumed that you…well never mind. I’m sure it will be fine."

"What article?" Dwight demanded.

"The one in USA Today, the health section. Some time last week. I read it yesterday at my sister’s house."

"I do read USA Today. Especially the Science and Health section. But I don’t recall any article relating to jackets."

"Well, I’m sure you still have it at home."

Dwight looked aghast, "No I don’t! I’ve already recycled last week’s papers."

"Oh, man. I only wish I could be as concientious as you are, Dwight. You are a true friend of the environment."

"But what about the article? "Dwight hissed.

"Oh, that. Well, there were these three men…salesman I think, for a small company in Albuquerque, that leases copier machines."

"Like Xerox?"

"Yes. Exactly like Xerox, only that’s not relevant to the story."

"Oh. Of course. Go on."

"Anyway...all three of them died suddenly of encephalitis."

"Encephalitis…that sounds serious."

"Well, they died, Dwight. It doesn’t get any more serious than that."

"You’re right. What caused it?"

"Well, here’s the thing. They did this huge investigation, and it turns out that all three men had the habit of wearing their suit jackets into the men’s room."

"Go on."

"And the cause of their encephalitis? Jacket germs."

"Jacket germs? That’s ridiculous. There’s no such thing…is there?"

"Suits, especially suits made of a wool polyester blend, are, literally, germ magnets."

"My suit is a wool polyester blend."

"Really? It’s very nice. I’ve always liked that brown/gold thing you’ve got going on."

"Thank you. You know…I always hang my jacket on the hook behind the stall door."

Jim shook his head sadly, "The very worst place...well, according to this article. But still, it’s really nothing to worry about. The chances of getting encephalitis from your jacket are at least 10,000 to one. Well, unless, of course, you go to the bathroom more than, say, three times a day."

"I go much more often than that. I have a very small bladder."

"Oh? I never noticed."

"Typical. You are so unobservant."

"Well, anyway, ever since I read that article, I’ve been leaving my jacket on my chair. It’s stupid, I know, but I just can’t take that chance."

"It’s only stupid to take chances with your health."

"Well, thank you, Dwight."

"Say…why are you being so nice to me? Telling me about the article, and all."

"Because I care, Dwight. Because I care."

"We should warn Michael!"

"I already did, this morning. It’s covered."

The next time Dwight got up to go to the bathroom, he took off his jacket and left it draped on his chair. As soon as he was gone, Jim got up and searched it. Sure enough, Dwight’s wallet was in his breast pocket. Jim left it there, of course, but turned to Pam and mouthed, "Bingo."