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“Hi, I’m Jim Halpert,” I announce to the receptionist. Her nameplate says ‘Laura Erickson.' She’s thirtyish and petite, with short dark hair. “I’m here to meet with Mr. Harris?“
“Hi Mr. Halpert, I’m Laura.” Her eyes take note of the wet coat folded over my arm and my dripping, broken umbrella. I can’t get it to close right because a couple of the spines are broken. “Still raining?” she asks. Like there’s any doubt, but I know she’s just trying to be nice. I must look pretty nervous because…well...I am.
“Yeah, it’s pretty nasty out there.” It’s just above freezing and there’s a steady rain falling. The closest parking place I could find was four blocks away. I don’t mention that my socks are really wet.
“You can just have a seat there.” She motions to the three chairs along the opposite wall. “Mr. Harris will be with you in a few minutes.”
“Thanks.” I’m ready to turn and take a seat, when a man in a sport coat and khakis emerges from the office behind her with a big, smug smile plastered to his face. He’s maybe forty, barrel chested, and he walks like a guy who thinks he owns the place, but doesn’t. He winks and nods at Laura and states boldly, “Well, that went well." And then he makes a little clicking noise with his tongue. "Guess I’ll see you on Monday, Laura.” This guy makes Todd Packer seem subtle. He’s not through, either.
He looks me over. “So, dude, if you’re here for this job, you can just go on home and not waste your time.” He laughs at his own brilliant wit and then adds with a smirk, “And you need a new umbrella.”
My people skills may be a little rusty, but I can still recognize an asshole when I see one. As he struts by me, I motion toward the front of my pants. He frowns and looks back at me, and when I have his attention, I draw my hand up like I’m zipping my fly, and then motion toward him.
I thoroughly enjoy the panicked look on his face as he pulls his jacket closed and exits the lobby in a hurry. His fly wasn’t really open, of course, but that’s the most fun I’ve had all day. I could swear I hear Laura stifling a giggle behind me, but when I sit down in the fabric covered chair to face her, her head is buried seriously in her work.
While I wait, I try to psych myself up for the interview. I’m a good salesman and I’m determined to bring my ‘A’ game today. I’ve got a good feeling about this one because it’s something I think I would actually enjoy. Yup, I know I could sell the hell out of playground equipment. I want this job. I need this job. Badly. I’m tired of seeing the worry in Pam’s eyes all the time. This morning I hugged her as she balanced Daniel on her hip, and then I kissed her head and told her everything was going to be okay - that I would get this job one way or another. I swallow hard.
“Mr. Halpert?” Laura startles me from my thoughts.
“Yes?” I get up and go back to her desk, and I notice there’s a picture of a little boy beside her phone. He’s cute.
“Do you have any updates to your information that you want to add?”
“No, it’s all there.” I haven’t been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in the month since I applied for this job. Nope, nothing new with unemployed me.
“Okay, thanks. Not long now.” She knows I’m nervous.
I linger a bit, wave at the picture on her desk and ask, “Yours?” Her face beams with a big grin. “So that’s a ‘yes’?” I laugh. “We have a little boy, too. He’s twenty one months.”
“Randy’s three.” She’s a proud mom.
“Have you worked here long?” Never hurts to get a feel for the place.
“I used to work here full time before Randy was born, but right now I’m just filling in three months for Bonnie, the regular secretary. She’s on maternity leave – she’ll be back in two weeks. We’re expecting another baby in April.”
“That’s awesome, congratulations.” We want another child, too, but we can’t think about that right now.
“So,” I venture, “Is Mr. Harris a good guy to work for?”
“Yes, he’s a good man,” she assures me with an amused look. Of course she would say that, but it’s the delivery that is telling. Harris must be okay. Good to know. Just then the phone buzzes and she answers.’
“Mr. Harris will see you now.” I think she means it when she says, “Good luck.”
I walk into his office and Mr. Harris is sitting comfortably behind his big oak desk wearing a Playworld company polo and jeans. He rises from his leather chair to shake my hand. I concentrate on getting the firmness just right, and projecting an air of likeable competence. First impressions are important, just ask Charles Miner. I scan the room for talking points. One side of the room is lined with bookshelves holding various manuals, binders, and books, and a few pictures, mostly of family. There’s an autographed picture of an Eagles player, but I can’t see who it is. On the wall behind Harris, the outside window is surrounded by posters of playground equipment and plaques from youth team sponsorships. To my right, the large second floor picture window overlooks a ground floor indoor showroom of sample structures.
I wonder if I’m overdressed in my suit.
He‘s friendly, and that helps. We exchange pleasantries and then the questions start. Do I know anything about playground equipment? I’ve done my research, and I can talk the talk. I’ve also visited a competitor’s showroom – now that was a field trip that Daniel really enjoyed. I still have a lot to learn, I admit, but I emphasize that I’m a quick study. I finish by pointing out that with my own son approaching two, I’m going to have to learn this stuff soon anyway. He seems to like that answer. So far, so good.
We talk sales. We talk sports. (Yup, he’s an Eagles man.) We talk strollers. I think I’m still doing okay, and then…
“I see you’ve been out of work for six months, Jim. That been hard?”
My heart races and I will myself to sound calm. “Yes,’ I am honest, “It has been. But I’m looking for something permanent, you know, a good fit.” I don’t tell him that I’m desperate to find work and that we’re just a couple of months away from losing the house, and that I scare myself thinking about what I’d do to get this job.
Then we touch on expected income and his eyebrows rise when I mention what I’d like to earn. I add, maybe a little too fast, “ If you’ll notice from my resume and records, my client retention is excellent and my numbers show sales increases. I’m a hard worker and I will absolutely make your company money.”
He settles back in his chair noncommittally, quietly considering, and my palms start to sweat. Did I just give away my desperation?
A gust of wind causes the rain to lash hard against the back window and the noise distracts me while I wait for his response. The weather is getting worse and my wet feet are getting cold and it’s a long way back to where I parked. His voice pulls me back.
“Jim you might wonder why we’re hiring in December – not exactly our busiest season.” I can’t admit it hadn’t occurred to me at all, so I just nod. I do know that if I don’t get something this month, January and February are very unlikely to present any real opportunities. “Lost a good salesman – a good friend - to a heart attack back in October. Larry was only fifty eight and I miss him like crazy. He was quite the practical joker and he kept us all on our toes.” He pauses, remembering, and looks genuinely sad. “Anyway, the point is, we’re looking for someone for the long haul. This is a good job – Larry carried all the school and park accounts for us and that would be your priority here.”
“I’m sorry about your salesman,” I offer politely. “I can’t replace your friend, but I will absolutely exceed your expectations if you’ll give me a chance.” And then it just slips out, and I try to stop the words but they’ve already escaped my lips. “I have been known to pull a prank or two.”
He frowns and sits back, evaluating again, and I hope there’s no perspiration showing on my upper lip, but I’m not sure. When he speaks again, he sounds irritated. “No, no one can replace Larry.” Oh my God, why did I say that? Things had been going well. I want to turn and run out the door.
“Look, I’ll be honest with you Jim, I interviewed six people yesterday for this position, and I have a total of five today to see, including you. They’re all good candidates. Well, almost all.”
It takes me a second to recover from that gut punch. I think I keep my voice from shaking when I say, “I hope you’ll consider me, sir. I guarantee you that nobody will work harder than I will.” Oh my God that sounded lame, but Michael Scott said to always guarantee something.
And then he just dismisses me with a handshake and a nod, “Jim, thanks for coming in, especially in this weather. We’ll call if we need you.” I can see him already scanning his list for the name of the next person on the interview list as I walk out of his office, trying to control the urge to vomit. I’ve blown it.
I manage to thank Laura the receptionist on the way out, and she smiles at me and then says to the man standing in the lobby,” Mr. Stewart, please have a seat, Mr. Harris will see you in a few minutes.” Poor schmuck looks just as desperate as I did. As I am.
Jesus, what am I going to do now? I walk down the flight of steps to the first floor, and the movement helps me hold it together. I am stunned, because I’d actually talked myself into believing that I was going to get this job. I’m so stupid, really, what should I have expected? This is by far the best job I’ve gotten an interview for in the six months since Dunder Mifflin closed and, since I’ve managed to screw up a dozen interviews before this one, why should today be any different?
I give my broken umbrella a disgusted push, opening it to its half mast best. As I stand under the entry awning, I can hear rain mixed with a little ice peppering down on the metal above me. I wonder if it’s going to get bad on the roads. I hope they let Pam off early. I hate that she’s had to get a job as a receptionist again, but adding her salary and benefits to my unemployment is the only way we’ve managed to stay afloat so far. The pay isn’t great, but she gets health insurance and it covers Daniel’s shots and checkups and visits for earaches. My unemployment ran out three weeks ago and we don’t have any savings left. I pull my coat collar up as far as I can and head out into the wet under half an umbrella.
By the time I get to the car, my feet are completely soaked and the rest of me is damp. This is my only decent pair of dress shoes so I hope they’re not ruined.
I’d go get Daniel, but Pam’s mom is always disappointed if I pick him up early – she watches him on Thursdays. Rose, Pam’s friend, watches him on Tuesdays, and I watch Rose’s two year old girl on Mondays with Daniel. It’s good for them both to have a playmate, and that gives me Tuesday and Thursday to job hunt. I have Daniel by himself the other two days a week, Wednesday and Friday. That’s the only upside to this whole situation – I love being with him. I love really getting to know my son. So yeah, Wednesdays and Fridays? Those are my good days.
I guess I should go home and cook or do laundry or sleep even. Starting back in September, Steve (the vending machine guy) got me two night watchman shifts a week at his warehouse - eleven to seven on Saturday and Sunday nights. It helps with groceries and diapers and gas and I feel like I’m contributing a little, but it keeps my sleeping all messed up. To tell the truth, I never feel rested anymore. I try to get up with Daniel if he wakes up at night during the week, so Pam can get a good night’s sleep. She’s the one working, after all.
I start the car and I can barely see out. Rain and sleet are slushing together and sticking to the windows, obscuring my view. My wipers swish the ice away on the windshield, but a new crop of crystals immediately appears in their place. I turn the wipers on high.
I should go home, but I can’t handle an empty house right now so, despite the bad weather, I just drive. I drive by the mall and by the old Dunder Mifflin building. I think back to the end of April. Things had been going well, we thought. Pam’s sales were picking up, and we’d just splurged and used our spare cash to get the kitchen remodeled. Daniel was starting to talk. And then one day out of the blue, David Wallace walks into the office and announces that Dunder Mifflin has declared bankruptcy, and that it’s the target of an ongoing federal fraud investigation of some sort. We’re all out of jobs as of right then, including David. No severance, no nothing. Not a good day.
I keep driving. Probably by chance, I pass Pam and Roy’s old apartment. Roy’s married now, a kid on the way. We got a Christmas card this week. He’s got a job.
I drive by Poor Richard’s. I don’t stop. That’s not going to help and I know it.
The temperature must be dropping because there’s more sleet in the rain, and my wipers leave little piles of ice at the base of the windshield. I turn on the radio and catch that the temperature has dropped to 31 degrees.
Crap. It occurs to me that I need to get home and quit wasting gas – I’ve gone through at least a third of a tank. And what if I wreck the car? I’m an idiot. I turn to head for home and the car in front of me slides sideways on the ice. I take my foot off the accelerator and slow down, and luckily he manages to hold the road.
Christ, please don’t let me wreck the car, because our deductible is huge. Our health insurance deductible is huge. My life insurance policy is tiny. I creep home in the ice, hoping they let Pam out early. She’s supposed to pick up Daniel at her mom’s on her way home. She’s a careful driver, but I still worry.
Nobody’s home when I get there, and the house is dark. The ice is coming down heavily now. When I get inside I hang my tie and jacket up right away, hoping to avoid a dry cleaning fee. As I open the closet door to get a hanger, it squeaks. Pam has been complaining about that for a week, and I keep forgetting, so I head out to the garage to get the WD40 right now. Maybe I can do one useful thing today.
On my way outside, I see Daniel’s little blue walking car sitting out back in the sleet. I’m in my shirt sleeves, but I run out and grab it anyway – he’ll want it when he gets home later. The ice stings my face and now I’m really wet. I drag the car into the garage and flip on the light to look for the can of oil. I see Pam’s art stuff still sitting here. She's always too tired to draw now. Her sketch book is lying on the small table and I walk over and run my finger across it, drawing a line through the dust on the cover.
I ease down into the old stuffed chair, wipe the dust off the book with my damp sleeve, and start thumbing through it. The drawings she did while she was in New York – they’re really good. Pam finally took a chance. She loves drawing like this. She loved New York. And then – then I proposed.
I wonder if I should move all of her stuff out of the way so she can pull the Yaris in here tonight. I can’t bring myself to do it – shove Pam’s dreams over to the side of the garage in a pile? A sudden burst of anger hits me, and I bring my fist down hard against the overstuffed arm of the old brown chair. The thud echoes and a tiny cloud of dust rises and quickly disappears. Perfect.
I sit there, looking at the sketchbook for – I don’t know for how long, I lose track. I don’t hear her enter but then her voice fills the empty space of the room, “Jim? I didn’t know where you were. I got off early.”
I glance back to see her alone. “Daniel?”
“The roads are getting really bad and mom said she’d just keep him tonight. She was dying for an excuse, you know – I hope she doesn’t hold him all night.” She adds lightly.
Daniel loves Pam’s mom. Gamgam. That’s what he calls her.
I can hear the smile in Pam’s voice as she says, “It’s just you and me tonight, mister,” and a little part of me wants to die. She’s hoping for a celebration.
...
Story Notes:
This story picks up after the end of what would be Season 7 of the show. I've never written a first person fic before, and this is an experiment for me (please be gentle with me). Times are hard, but like Jim, you just gotta hang in there with me 'til the end.
Author's Chapter Notes:
If you've never heard the song Here's That Rainy Day, try the Bill Evans version - it's on youtube. (or Sinatra)
Huge thanks to Vampiric Blood and NanReg. This was a much bigger mess before they helped me out.
Huge thanks to Vampiric Blood and NanReg. This was a much bigger mess before they helped me out.
Chapter End Notes:
If you're reading and think this is just too depressing, like Jimpert, you just gotta hang in there.
I would love feedback if you have time - especially on how the first person came across - since I've never tried it before.
Next chapter - Jim and Pam manage some difficult communication about their situation.
I would love feedback if you have time - especially on how the first person came across - since I've never tried it before.
Next chapter - Jim and Pam manage some difficult communication about their situation.
