Pam Beesly had a problem.

No, she reminded herself, not a problem, an opportunity.

Her mom had visited her and Penny in town last night and that had been the message they had drilled into her over a bucket of margaritas at a Mexican joint Pam hadn’t even known about but Penny apparently knew like the back of her hand. Problems are opportunities, Pam¸ her sister had insisted, slurring the Ss at the ends of the words. And to her surprise, her mother, who was much less drunk and actually eying Penny with a little concern, hadn’t shushed her but had put a hand over Pam’s and nodded. Maybe not all problems, she’d said, cutting her eyes over to Penny refilling her glass, but this problem? This problem is an opportunity, Pamela.  Things were always serious when her mom called her Pamela. There had been nothing but Pamelas for a week or so after she’d broken things off with Roy: what are you going to do, Pamela? and I thought he was such a nice boy, I’m so sorry Pamela, and most of all and most frequently have you found a place to live yet, Pamela? But she’d been “Pam” again after things had stabilized, and “sweet P,” her old childhood nickname, had made a happy reappearance (and not a sad one, as on that fateful day when she’d called from Penny’s). But now she was being Pamela-ed again, and it wasn’t just the faux-seriousness of alcohol.

So that morning she’d gotten up early (aided by the wonderful morning light in her beautiful studio that helped her stay awake) and made a list.

A problem: she didn’t know what to do with Jim. She was aware that she was rapidly falling for him, but could it be real if she was still rebounding from Roy?

An opportunity: was she really rebounding from Roy? Oddly, she hadn’t really thought of him at all the last week or so—after they’d divvied up the things in the house (kitchen implements-her; furniture-him; decorations-her; TV-him) they hadn’t had any real reason to talk at work, and apparently Roy had gotten the fear of God put into him by Darryl about coming up to the office after almost-but-not-technically hitting Jim. When she had seen him (picking up the toaster, for instance) he’d practically begged her to take him back, but since he hadn’t actually been able to tell her that he was sorry for what he’d done, or really (as far as she could tell) comprehend why it was she wanted an apology (hint: not for any damage done to Jim, but for the whole attitude that led to attacking Jim in the first place), she had felt no real compulsion in that direction. Yes, she’d been with Roy most of her adult life. But didn’t that maybe, just maybe, mean she hadn’t really ever been an adult as long as she’d been with Roy? He certainly hadn’t acted like an adult. So maybe yes, this was an opportunity. An opportunity to choose something for herself.

A problem: but was choosing Jim really a choice, or was it just what everyone else expected of her? Her mother and Penny had practically swooned over the idea that Jim had ‘defended’ her even though all he’d done was take the brunt of Roy’s misplaced and misbegotten ire (not that she hadn’t swooned a little at him herself back there, but that was different, dammit. Don’t ask why). Kelly had already made her opinion loudly known to the whole office, and Roy had obviously assumed it given the way he was tiptoeing around Jim whenever there was a work-related reason for them to be near her, that she could see at least (then again, maybe that was just the Fear-of-God/Darryl/Getting Fired at work). Was she really making a definite choice here, or was this just another instance of Pam going along with what everyone expected?

An opportunity: but then again, she did want Jim. She definitely wanted Jim. In more senses than she was going to admit to her mother even if she was a bit drunk. So what was the problem? This was definitely an opportunity.

A problem: but did he want her?

An opportunity: if Jim spent more time at her desk during work, he’d be the receptionist, as Angela had nastily pointed out earlier this afternoon. If that wasn’t a sign, what was?

She made a decision. Jim Halpert swung out of his chair, took two steps past the reception desk, flashing a grin her way, and walked out the main doors of the office, and she took it as a sign that he’d forgotten his coat. She grabbed it and hustled out the doors to follow him.