Jan Levinson looked out of the small window above the kitchen sink, stuck a fresh cigarette in her mouth and fumbled with the lighter a few times before she could make it work.  She exhaled a puff of smoke and felt her mind clear a little and the stress ebb.  She took some time to look at a few birds sitting on the fence outside and admire the flowers in the back yard, which she had planted when she first moved in.  Feeling calmer, she turned back to face her boyfriend, who was still sitting at the kitchen table, dressed for work and looking contrite.

"Isn't there anything I can do to make it up to you?" he asked.

She could see desperation in his eyes but had learned long ago not to be moved by such displays. It was a necessary defense mechanism when living with a man whose eyes welled with tears whether pleading for her to be less sexually adventurous or just asking for permission to watch Survivor.  She flicked some ashes into the sink and sighed for what felt like the fifth time since they'd started talking during breakfast. 

"There's one thing you could do, yes," she said, reluctantly edging toward giving him another chance. "Something I asked you to do months ago and you said no to it."

"What is it? Anything."

"Actually you yelled ‘no' to it.  In public. After I had carefully whispered my request to you."  Jan shivered at the memory.  "I'd forgotten that part."

He stood up quickly and hugged her tightly before she could realize what he was doing.  "Anything," he repeated. "Is it the PT Cruiser again? You wanted to ride with the top down and I didn't want to. Is that it?"

"No, not that."  She exhaled another puff of smoke over his shoulder. "But you're kind of close."

* * * * *

Jim Halpert was lost in thought again, not an unusual occurrence for him while at work in a job that bored him, and this time he had a more valid reason than usual. Pam was finally going to move in with him by the end of the week, which would be a new experience for him; he'd never lived with anyone as an adult that he cared about more than their ability to pay their half of the rent on time.  A couple of hours earlier, when he'd first arrived for the day, he had presented Pam with a copy of his apartment key by handing her an earbud and playing trumpeting fanfare music on his ipod as he made an elaborate gesture of handing it over as if she'd won an award.  She'd laughed and seemed very happy about it all, and that helped ease his slight nervousness about the impending lifestyle change.

He was in a pleasant mood, which was more than he could say for his coworker Dwight, who appeared to be unusually haggard and out of sorts this morning.

"Rough night?" Jim asked, while digging into a drawer and pulling out a small stack of paperwork he'd left unfinished the day before.

"Yes," answered Dwight, in an unconvincing attempt to sound fully awake. "I had to get up in the middle of the night to help with seasonal pest patrol."

"I guess spraying bugs is something that-"

"Not bugs! Neighborhood kids."  Dwight turned from his monitor to face Jim for the first time that morning. "I wish our main problem was bugs."

"Okay. Well, I guess that happens."

Dwight was not going to let it go and looked over at him sternly, like a teacher pouncing on an unprepared student.

"Do you know what a single used condom can do to good soil? It's not a light matter. And there were three of them last night."

"But you just said there were two."

"Two kids." Dwight scoffed. Jim had only been at work for a few minutes and already Dwight had scoffed at him; things were ahead of schedule today.  "Three used condoms that had accumulated over the past few days. Mose is good at finding them.  He roams around the fields twice a week with a flashlight, looking for the unique glint of latex in the soil."

Jim sorted through his paperwork as he listened.  "Farming is clearly more complicated than I realized."

"He needed my help to scare the kids away, so I didn't get much sleep." Dwight grabbed his mouse, clicked a few times and read his monitor intently. "Hold on. A message from Michael. He needs me."

Jim knew what Dwight meant by that but couldn't resist.  "That's an exaggeration, isn't it?  It's more like he just tolerates you."

"He wants to set up his email a certain way," Dwight responded, getting up and putting his jacket on. Jim was sure Dwight didn't really need his jacket to go only a few steps away but he gave him points for a dramatic flourish.  

* * * * *

Dwight proudly pointed at his boss's monitor. "I added Jim, Kevin, Andy, Creed, Oscar and Toby. Are you sure you want Toby?" He was always glad to help Michael with such things; it gave him a reason to hang out in the power center of the office and showcase his skills.

Michael scowled at the mention of the final name.  "Is there any way you can make it call him something else on my screen?" he asked. "So that I can forget it's him? Like ‘person x', or ‘random jerk' or ‘Lord Farquaad'?"

"Lord....?" Dwight didn't quite understand.

"Shrek. Jan and I watched it last night."

Dwight leaned down and made a few adjustments to the email settings.  "How about I just change him to ‘H.R. Representative' on your screen?"

"Alright," said Michael, leaning back to give him room. "I was hoping for at least Decepticon or something though."

"Looks like you're set."

"Thanks. On the way out, tell Jim I'd like to see him for a minute."

"Okay," said Dwight, reluctantly. He made his way to the door and turned around. "But you know there's nothing you can tell him that you can't tell me. Did something bad happen? Are you in trouble?"

Michael was tapping away, composing an email, and ignored the questions.

"We can run off to Bolivia together if you are," Dwight added, generously.

"Just prepare the guys. I want to talk to them. Man to employee."

* * * * *

Jim had used the time that Dwight was away productively, which for him meant spending more time with Pam at her reception desk talking about their upcoming change in lifestyle.

"Should I bring over the last of my stuff Friday or Saturday?"  Pam asked him, after forwarding a sales call.

"Saturday," he replied, pushing the candy dish aside so he could lean in closer.  "I need to savor that one last day of freedom."

She smirked.  "Oh. Gonna go wild, are you?"

"You know it.  I'll be like Creed in his twenties." 

Pam nodded at him seriously, and then asked, "He was in a monastery at that age.  Are you sure you're ready for that?"

"Wait. What?" Jim frowned, finding her hard to read. "You're joking, right?"

Before Pam could answer him, they were interrupted by Dwight leaving Michael's office and calling out to Jim from across the room.

"Pepe Le Peu!  You're up at bat."

* * * * *

Jim wasn't sure what he was needed for. He imagined that it might be about a large batch of legal pads that had been accidentally manufactured with rounded edges earlier in the week. He had been asked to unload the irregular paper as best he could and had finally managed to sell it to a local school by calling it a new style of "safety paper."  Perhaps Michael was going to congratulate him, which would be nice, but Dwight being asked in to help implied something else was going on and it made Jim curious.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked, on entering Michael's office.

 "Ah, yes. Jim."  His boss smiled at him welcomingly from behind his desk.  "My erstwhile alter ego person whom I rely on."

"Yep. That's me," Jim said, playing along.  He didn't bother sitting down; that would only encourage Michael to keep talking.  "If this is about the irregular paper, I managed to unload it."

"Nah.  More important than that. More personal."  Michael leaned forward, fingertips and thumbs together to create what he had once told Jim was his ‘contemplation teepee.'  "Wouldn't you say that we are close?"

Not a good sign, thought Jim. "Excuse me?"

"Buds," Michael clarified. "We share. We tell each other things."

Jim had an idea of where this was heading and tried to head it off.  "I told you yesterday, I'm not going to tell you Pam's bra size."

"No! Not that. That was just a misunderstanding anyway," Michael said, almost blushing. "I only wanted to add cup-holders to the reception desk and you heard me wrong."

"I'm pretty sure I heard you right."

"Be that as it may. No, this isn't about that. You can tell me that some other time. This is about Jan and me."

"What about you two?"

Michael started to look a little emotional and vulnerable and motioned for him to close the door, which he did.  His boss then started looking a little agitated, as if his head was filling up with emotion ready to come out. 

"She, uh...she wants me to get circumcised," he blurted.

Jim was at a loss for words. Was he serious? It was never easy to tell with Michael, but he certainly seemed so.

"Wow."

"What should I do?" Michael asked, almost pleading.

"Don't," said Jim reflexively, as he tried to absorb this information.

Michael banged his head on the desk a couple of times in frustration.  "I have to, James. I embarrassed her badly the other day, and did a few other things lately that hurt her.  I told her I'd do anything to keep her."

"Why exactly is she asking this of you? And you mean you aren't already?" Jim wished he hadn't asked the last question.

"No. Most men my age apparently were." Michael held his head down on the desk for a moment and talked into his mouse pad. "Or so she keeps telling me. Especially Gould and some fireman named Todd that she dated in the nineties.  She prefers it that way, she says."

Jim felt he probably shouldn't have been surprised since Jan and Michael's relationship had seemed very odd for a long time now, but he nonetheless was taken aback by her demand.

"Are you sure you even want to keep her?  I mean, that's a lot for her to ask."

"We were meant for each other." Michael looked up wistfully as his romantic side came out. "She's the brass ring. The best and last chance I have."

Jim felt a mixture of sympathy, confusion and revulsion about the whole situation. "I didn't know it was so deep," he offered, trying to understand.

"You should understand better than most," Michael said, getting up and grabbing his stress toy. He then laid himself down on the floor behind his desk with just his feet sticking out on the side.

"You've been there," he continued. "Walked the walk of true love. Jan and I are just like you and Pam. And a little like you and Karen from behind."

Jim winced at the comparison.  "Should you be telling me all this?" he asked, looking for a graceful way out.  "It's very personal."

"You were going to find out anyway, I just wanted you to hear it first."

"Wait.  Who else are you going to tell?"

"I'm going to tell all the men of our branch, in email," Michael said, tossing his stress toy into the air a few times. Jim saw it rise and fall behind the desk. "A kind of email conference call to get their feedback and advice. Unless you think I shouldn't."

"I don't know, it sounds like a bad..."

A soft whimper came from behind the desk.  "It will probably take up most of the day, and we won't get much work done."

"Yeah, true," said Jim.  He started to see some advantages to the idea.

"There's also a risk that some of them might make fun of me."

"It's a risk you need to take," said Jim, confidently. "Sounds like a great idea. I'll go back to my desk to contribute there."

At this, Michael appeared to make up his mind. He pulled himself to his feet and came around the desk to shake Jim's hand sincerely.

"Thanks," he said. Jim noticed his eyes were red. "Close the door on the way out.  I'm going to try to come up with a dignified way of explaining my problem to the guys."

* * * * *

Upon leaving Michael's office, Jim shook his head and shrugged to Pam in a way that he hoped conveyed that it was all confusing and he'd explain later.  He returned to his seat and tried to get back to work.  Leafing through his papers, he could feel Dwight's eyes boring into him and had a feeling that he knew what was bugging his nemesis.  His guess was confirmed by the arrival of an email.

To: The Mifflin Men
From: DSchrute
Subject: Prepare to be of service
Michael has an important issue he will want our help with soon. Be alert and ready to respond!

"He didn't tell you what this is all about, did he?"  Jim asked.

Dwight shrugged nonchalantly. "It was obviously some sort of problem between him and Jan.  I've learned to recognize the signs.  You have more relationship experience, so it was only natural he'd ask you for advice."

"I probably do."  By a longshot, Jim thought.

"As a Schrute, my primary relationship is with nature," said Dwight.  "And she is a harsh mistress."

"Like Jan."

A wave of frustration came over Dwight's face. "Dammit, I could have been of more use to him after all!"

Jim chuckled as his email inbox alerted him of a new message, which he promptly clicked open.

To: The Mifflin Men
From: MScott
Subject: Gaahhh!! Help needed!
Jan wants me to get circumcised!!! What should I do???