Pam was never one for dramatics. If anything, she led a simply boring predictable life. Work, go home to Roy, work, go home to Roy. On the weekends, she did have more variety. The kind that begged the question, what does Roy want to do this weekend? She didn’t consider herself that much of a pushover either, she had always spoke her mind, but after years of knowing Roy, he was just as stubborn, sometimes he would go days without speaking to her after an argument. Which leads to the third thing evident about Pam, she hated confrontation. It messed up that secure predictability she had, anger and rage spawn confusion and send things spinning out of control.  She couldn’t handle that. She’d rather just…let that stuff go and be happy.  Keep Roy talking to her because if he wasn’t, who would? So she just kept quiet sometimes when Roy would start. Just because….

She had worked…no…slaved at Dunder Mifflin for too long. Most days she contemplated if Michael would notice how miserable she was if she slit her own wrists with copier paper, but he probably would ask her not to bleed on his messages.  Hate was not the word she felt for her job, no…contempt. Contempt that this was her life, this was what she had resolved she would always do and she felt it was strangling her.

Most mornings, when she wasn’t contemplating suicide by paper product, she was thinking murder by telephone cord. Between Michael’s outrageous outbursts and insane demands, she never got anything done because he was always dragging them to the conference room to diffuse a hostile situation HE created.

It had to stop.

The only saving grace for her was in the form of a lanky goofy paper salesman who sat across from her, his eyes blinking rapidly as his head descended further and further until it hit his desk in a hard thud.

Pam snorted and hit the enter button of his keyboard. She faintly hear the sound from where she sat. Ding.  A sound that became almost like a beacon of hope for them both on days like this.

He barely lifted his head but somehow managed to hit his own enter button. She watched as his eyes scanned the message from under his unruly hair and he snorted loudly and sat up with a bright smile. She needed that smile more than she needed coffee to keep her awake here and after a raised eyebrow, she turned back to her mundane task of organizing Michael’s filing system.

She liked that she only she could rescue Jim from impending death by boredom; it was an honor to her. They deemed themselves a tag team of misery, Dunder Mifflin slaves until they cut off the lights in this office, leaving behind Jim and Pam’s skeletons at their desks.  Jim found ways to make that bleak future seem okay, constantly scheming on ways to make Dwight suffer.

“I don’t want to kill him…” Jim replied one day during lunch, “That would be too easy.”

Pam used to think Jim really hated Dwight but he didn’t. Jim had showed many instances where he had a soft spot for the over bearing oaf. No, Jim just liked to torture Dwight because Dwight inspired him to. She truly believed Dwight deserved his supplies encased in Jell-O, put into a vending machine and moved into the bathroom. He needed someone to smack him out of his insane dedication to Michael and Dunder Mifflin, his greedy need for inane power. That person was Jim.

Most might find his methods cruel and unusual but Pam totally got Jim. She understood his need to create some sort of life in the office, for fear that if  all he did all day was sell paper, he was a dead man. His soulful eyes and bright grin mixed well with his dry humor and free spirit. She sometimes wondered what it was like to be Jim, to have everyone love you and to try to not take things so seriously.

Considering him her best friend was an honor. Sure they didn’t talk much outside the office, which she understood, but she desperately wanted to know what he did when he did leave, what he was like. She was knew he had a roommate, Mark, a brother and sister, and his parents were “awesomely normal”, as he put it. It was only when he got to work did he feel like a zombie, and resorted to bad thoughts. She understood. Oh boy did she.

Sitting at her desk day after day, willing the stapler to come alive and attack her just to know she wasn’t trapped in a nightmare. She voiced this to Jim, wondering if he would make fun of her like Roy did when she complained about her job. Jim just nodded in kind. “I’m still trying to figure out what I did in my past life to deserve this.”

He could always make her smile, no matter what her mood, and she began to appreciate him more and more. Slowly she started looking forward to being at work, if not just because she was going to see Jim. Now someone with a fiancé shouldn’t feel that way, but she did, Jim offered her something no one else in her life offered her…an escape. A chance to be silly, a chance to talk…there was so many little things in her head that need release but Roy would be annoyed, she didn’t want to burden her mother, and she didn’t have many close friends.

Those were things she shared with Jim, the lanky paper salesman who was at his desk, probably pondering on which personal article of Dwight’s to submerge in Jell-O.

She looked up from her files to see Kevin leering at her again over her desk.  He did that periodically, so much in fact, she stopped being effected by it.  Jim would laugh and say “Kevin’s like a pathetically horny Chihuahua, he’s content with just humping your leg.” Pam had to agree.

 Kevin only lingered for a second, as Michael came out and beckoned everyone to the conference room. Oh god. 

“Why?” Angela’s voice resounded, and no one else moved either.

Michael frowned. “Because Angela, I want to surprise you guys with a bit of information.”

“Oh my god, are we being downsized?” Meredith shrieked.

“Uh no…no. But good guess though!”

“Michael seriously, what is it because we have work to do.” Oscar replied.

Michael hunched his shoulders and Pam figured he might realize in this very moment that no one wanted to go in the conference room. EVER. And no one cared what he had to say. He would realize he’s a distraction, and no work ever gets done because of his interruptions. He would realize a lot about himself and try to change.

Not.even.close. 

“Conference room. NOW.” He said sternly.

Everyone grumbled and moved as slow as possible to the conference room. She shot a look at Jim who just shrugged and lifted himself out the seat. She guessed she should go too. She reprogrammed the phones and dragged herself in there. Finding a seat next to Jim, he gave her a wry smile and she groaned loudly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cameras were going to be following them, Michael announced in the meeting.

 “Supposedly a documentary on the exciting swinging life of a northeastern regional paper salesman needs to be documented,” Jim quipped.

They munched on sandwiches in the break room and Pam watched Jim pick apart his sandwich.

“What’s wrong?”

“We ran out of ham, and I had to use turkey instead. I don’t like change. It’s just too much.” Jim replied, tossing the sandwich down.

Pam chuckled. He lived for his ham and cheese lunch sandwich. It was almost comical that man so full of life and humor can be stuck in a rut of eating the same lunch everyday. She watched him stand and go to the machine to get a grape soda.

“Are you nervous, about the cameras?” She asked.

“No why?”

“They will all up in your face. EXTREME CLOSE-UP!! WHAAAA!” She made a face and Jim clutched his sides, laughing.

“Niccccccccceeee, Beesley. Great use of Wayne’s World quotage.” He sat back down and they toasted their open soda cans. “But really no. I’m not nervous. The most they could get from staring at me is a.)how extremely good looking I am-“

“-Conceited.”

“Totally. And b.) how much my career counselor in school failed me. Why? You nervous?”

Pam shook her head. “No. I’m actually quite excited. Something different. I’m starting to want that lately.”

“What you mean like sausage instead of pepperoni on your pizza different?”

“Like Turkey and cheese different.” She replied, casting a look at Jim.

As expected he smiled warmly at her and took a sip from his can. “Well, I think we should go all Survivor and vote Dwight off the island.”

Pam was giggling again. Jim made her do that a lot. “He can take Michael’s sock puppets with him.”

“I’m kinda fond of the sock puppets.”

“You are so weird, it’s almost scary.”

Jim just nodded and stood to go back to his desk. “Finish eating your lunch Beesly. From this point on, everything will change.”

Pam responded in kind as he walked out the break room.

She hoped it would…she was ready for change.