A week after he starts working at Dunder Mifflin Scranton, there are several things he already knows. He knows his boss is a classic example of the Peter Principle: a once-great salesman rendered a completely ineffective mid-manager. He knows his deskmate is hopelessly gullible yet somehow convinced he's the smartest guy in the room, which makes him even more gullible. He knows the redhead is divorced with a kid and sneaks vodka into her Big Gulps, the blonde loves two things; Jesus and cats, and though he doesn't know for sure, he suspects the short dark haired accountant may be gay, just based on the way he checks out the FedEx delivery man.

He knows the receptionist likes to draw, and secretly aspires to be an illustrator. He knows she can type really fast and that she comes to work in pristine white tennis shoes then changes into her loafers at her desk. He knows he needs to quit looking at her because she's recently engaged to her high school sweetheart, but he just can't seem to and he watches as she peels the metallic lid off of a yogurt cup. He knows she likes the mixed berry flavor and remembers that he grabbed the only mixed berry yogurt this morning then put it back because the sell-by date was several days ago. He has no idea what happens when one eats expired yogurt but he strongly feels the need to warn her. He walks to the front desk and leans on his forearms. "Hey," he said softly, her eyes meeting his, "so, this might sound weird, and there's no good reason for me to know this, but that mixed berry yogurt you're about to eat has expired."

Her eyes, which he knows are a beautiful shade of green in better lighting, widen and she laughs that laugh of hers that's giggly and feminine and is quickly becoming his favorite sound. Give it up now, it can't end well, he hears in the back of his head, but it's too late. It's only been a week and he already knows.