“Whoa-ho, where you goin’ there little Pamama Canal?”

“Work,” Pam mumbled, trying to elude Andy’s blocking of the hallway to no avail.

“Wait just a minute, let me see if that’s in your itinerary for the day…” Andy flipped open an imaginary notebook and began to “flip” through the pages.  Pam tapped her foot impatiently, wishing for once in her life that looks really could kill.

“Let’s see…get coffee, admire Andy, check mail, admire Andy some more…nope!  Says nothin’ in here about working.”  He tucked the invisible notebook securely in his coat pocket.  “But it does say something about a meeting with the head honcho.”

“Michael?  He didn’t mention—“

“He’s a busy man, Pam.  No time to send messages to the little people.  That’s what I’m here for.”

“Funny, I thought you were to, you know, produce,” Pam hissed the last word, her irritation with not just him but the entire world folded menacingly into the two syllables.

“I’m a jack-of-all trades.  Now get to scootin’ little Pamama Party!”

Pam squinted in confusion.

“Pamama.  Like ‘pajama party’?  God, why does no one get me?”  Andy groaned.

“Beats me.  Can I go now?”

“Uhh, what have I been trying to do for the last five minutes?  Yes, go, move!”

Pam needed no further prodding as she finally pushed her way past him and moved hastily to Michael’s office.

After a moment, Jim poked his head out from his booth.

“Is she gone?”

“Yep.  She should be occupied for a couple hours if Michael does his thang.”

“Excellent.”  Jim took out his wallet and grabbed a ten-dollar bill.

“Excuse me, sir.  But this Saint Bernard does not heel for Mr. Hamilton.  Does anyone even remember when he was president?”

Jim bit his lip to suppress a smile.  “No…no, I sure don’t.  Now Lincoln,” he let out a long whistle.  “There was a president.”

Andy looked off into the distance, a wistful expression settling on his face.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

Jim slowly took out a five-dollar bill and while Andy was still deep in thought, he slipped the bill into his hand.

“Thanks again.”

Jim’s voice brought Andy back from his daydreams.  “Anytime, bro.”  He slipped the bill into his pocket without giving it a second glance.  

“Anytime.”

xxx

“Pamchop, can I just say how sorry I am for yesterday’s…incident in the conference room?  I swear, I had no idea Jan was just going to bail like that.  Is it safe for women to drive that fast in heels?  Anyway, really, from the bottom of my heart--”

“No, really, it’s fine.”

“But see, it isn’t fine.  Because you are like, a daughter—no, you’re like my really cool niece who buys me Converse and tells me about all the cool bands and introduces me to her hot English teacher.”

“What are you—I don’t have an English teacher, Michael.”

“No, I know that, I just—“ Michael rubbed his lips together in frustration, eyeing the clock on the wall.  He’d been instructed by Jim to keep her busy for two hours and so far he’d managed to occupy five minutes, most of that taken up with apologies.

“Again, I am truly, truly—“

“Sorry.  I get it.  Thank you.  Apology accepted.  May I leave?”

Michael’s eyes lit up at her tone of voice, pouncing on the opportunity.  “Is that any way to talk to your boss?  Huh?  After everything I’ve given you and shared with you, you just snap at me like that?  Not cool,” he shook his head.  “Not cool.”

Pam let out a groan low in her throat.  “I’m sorry.  Now can I go?”

“Nope.  I want you to sit there.  And think.  About your tone.”

“I have work—“

“Shhh.  That’s not important right now.  What’s important is this,” he gestured between them.  “Sometimes Uncle Mike has to lay down the law.”

“How long do I have to sit here?”

Michael once again eyed the clock.  “An hour and fifty minutes.”

“What?”

“Your time begins now.”

xxx

“Okay folks, here’s the deal:  I don’t ask a lot from you, right?  A call every now and then, maybe an e-mail to let me know how I’m doing, nothing big.  Now, I really need your help.  Long story short, Pam isn’t my co-host anymore.  I know, it sucks.  Believe me, no one is more upset about this than I am; it’s like a Lifetime movie over here.  Anyway, I think there’s still a way that we can get her back on the air, but it’s going to require a lot of support from you guys.  If you go to my page on the WYDM website, you’ll find an online petition.  This petition would allow not only Pam to get back on the air, but for all of our board operators to have fair and equal participation in what we broadcast.  So go, right now, and sign it.  If you’re in the car, wait for a red-light and bust out that iPhone or Sidekick or whatever kind of cell device you kids are using these days and go online from there.  Don’t lie to me, I know you all have Internet access.  In the meantime, I’ve got some great petition-signing music coming up for you here in just a little bit.  You’re listening to Jim and soon-to-be Pam in the Morning, we’ll be right back.”

Jim punched the commercials through and leaned back in his chair with a large sigh.  The effort to get Pam back was exhausting yet invigorating all at the same time.  This had gone far past the point of business; this was deeply personal, and any shot he had with Pam would vanish if he failed to come through.  He studied the online petition obsessively, hitting the refresh button and watched as name after name be added by the second.

xxx

“And in the third grade, I had a crush on Susie Hammerstein.  Man, she rocked those pig-tails—“

“Okay, an hour and fifty minutes are up.  I’m out of here,” Pam said, gathering her purse and heading for the door when Michael leapt in front of her.

“You can’t leave!”

“What the hell is going on?” Pam was at the breaking point, the stress of the last few weeks becoming too much as she dealt with consequences of getting personal feelings in the way of business.

“I just—stay for a few more minutes.  We still have sixth grade to get to and that was a year for girls.  That’s when they really started to develop—“

“That’s it, I’m done.”  Pam began to pry Michael away from the door when it suddenly burst open to reveal Jim, breathless and radiating with excitement.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“Dude, I know I’m a good entertainer, but two hours is way too much without an intermission.  I’ve had to pee like a racehorse ever since she came in.”

“Can you wait?  I need you to see this.”  Jim planted himself at Michael’s desk and typed furiously.

“Already?”  Michael asked.  “But it’s only been—“

“A couple hours, I know, but ever since I announced it on air—“

“Announced what on air?”  Pam asked, completely lost as she looked between the two of them.

“Look.  We’ve got almost a thousand signatures.  Give it another hour or so and we’ll have enough.”

“Can’t argue with you there, Not-Tiny Jim.  Get it? Like in that book by that one guy—“

Michael was silenced by the sound of a small train whistle ringing loudly in the office.  Both men winced and looked at Pam with incredulity.

“Sorry,” she said, taking the wooden whistle from her mouth and placing it back on Michael’s desk.  “I didn’t know how else to get your attention.  Someone please please tell me what’s going on.”

Michael and Jim looked at each other, and Michael backed away slowly with his hands up.

“This was your idea, Jim.  I’m just the diversion.”

Pam looked directly at Jim, the most eye contact they’d had in days as she waited for an answer.

“I started a petition online to keep you as my co-host.  The rest of the staff might not listen to us, but they’ll listen to the fans.  Without the audience they have no show, and from the looks of it, without you, that audience is going to stop listening.”  Jim turned the monitor towards her to reveal the long list of names that continued to grow.  Pam stared in shock.

“How—I don’t—are you sure this will work?”

Jim shrugged.  “It might.  It might not.  But no way in hell was I going to let Angela of all people run you out of a job.”  He offered a genuine smile to her and she reciprocated, happiness flushing her face at once as she pulled him into an embrace.

“Thank you,” she breathed into his sweater.  Jim’s smile grew and he tightened his arms around her.

“You’re welcome.”

“Ahem,” Michael cleared his throat.  Jim and Pam looked to find an audience at the door, consisting of Andy, Dwight, and the rest of the staff, looks of curiosity and revulsion scattered among the faces.

“Well guys,” Jim said, releasing Pam and clapping his hands.  “As much fun as this little tiff has been, how about we just accept what our listeners are telling us and call it a day.  Anyone up for Poor Richard’s tonight?  I’m buying a round.”

Meredith’s fist pumped up from the throng of people who murmured in agreement.  All except for one.

“No!  Just because a few measly people decide to become activists, all of a sudden we’re going to completely change the way this station operates?”  Angela’s voice raised to a new octave.  “I say we abandon this pit of lust and lies and form our own station!  We’ll be the beacon of light in an otherwise dark world!  We’ll be the harps in airwaves full of grunge rock!  We shall overcome!  Who’s with me?!”

Nothing but silence followed and Angela grudgingly accepted her fate.

“Fine.  But someone else gets to be the D.D.”

xxx

“So I’ve been thinking,” Pam said, swiveling on her barstool with glee.  “I don’t know if I like the name of our show.”

“Oh?  And what exactly is wrong with it?”

“It’s so plain.  ‘Jim and Pam in the Morning.’  It’s just so…bleh.”

“Very technical term you’ve used there, Beesly,”  Jim rolled his eyes with a laugh.  “So what would you suggest?”

“Well, we are the morning show, so…”  she drummed her fingers on the bar.  “I’ve got it!”

“Let’s hear this stroke of genius.”

“Toast with Jam,” she grinned broadly, waiting for the joke to settle.  Jim burst with laughter and soon they were both in hysterics.

“Yes, absolute—wait, actually, no.  I don’t think so.”

Pam frowned.  “Why not?”

“I don’t know, it’s just not right.  We’re definitely going to have to give this some thought over the weekend.”

Pam gave a shy smile as she sensed what he was getting at.  

“Oh really?”

“Yep.  It’s going to require long hours.  Lunch, dinner, coffee…we may even have to meet for Sunday brunch.”

“Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  You don’t get to Sunday brunch on the first date, sir.”

Jim’s eyes softened as he looked at her more seriously.  “So, is that a yes?”

Pam nodded, her smile growing wider as she looked away and took a sip of her drink.

“Alright then.  Speaking of toast, I think this definitely calls for one.”

“What should we toast to?”  Pam asked, raising her half-empty mug.

“How about pits of grunge rock?  Or was it airwaves of lust and lies?”

“No, no, something that doesn’t include fire and brimstone.”

Jim thought for a moment and then raised his glass to meet hers.  

“To the Big Guns from Scranton.”

Pam smiled and clinked the glass together.

“Cheers.”

xxx

“Can you believe what Jim did for Pam?  Is that not just the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life?”  Kelly tugged on Ryan’s sleeve, trying desperately to hold his attention.

“Yeah.  Great.  Whoa, look at that, it’s getting late—“

“No way!  You promised you’d buy me a drink.  Remember?  Remember that?”

Ryan rolled his eyes and reached for his wallet.

“Weird, I don’t think I have any cash…”

“Are you kidding me?  What kind of guy doesn’t carry cash?  Are you lying to me?  Are you just trying to get out of buying me a drink?  Because let me tell you something—“  Kelly stopped as a five dollar bill whipped in front of her face.

“Barkeep, the little lady can have whatever she desires,”  Andy said, sliding the bill across towards the bartender.  “Big Tab, don’t  you have some midterms to study for?  Hit the road, Adam Brody-wannabe.”

Ryan shook his head and left the bar, a soft “whatever” muttered under his breath.  Kelly, in complete awe, turned to Andy.

“That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life ever.  You watch ‘The O.C.’?”

Andy winked.  “6 o’clock.  Every night on Soapnet.”

That was all Kelly needed to hear as she lunged herself into his arms.  Andy stroked her back and gave a nod to Lincoln’s portrait.

“Thank you, Mr. President,” he whispered.  “It’s time to four-score.”