Jim Halpert has a problem.

All right, to be fair, Jim has many problems, and he has ever since he opened his stupid mouth and mentioned to his dad that he, Jim Halpert, knew how to operate an espresso machine (which was itself the result of the fact that Mark’s dad was a coffee snob, so his college roommate came to school not with an illicit tea kettle or hot pad, but an entire freaking espresso machine for their dorm room). Mentioning it was not stupid in and of itself. But mentioning it when he knew his dad was on the phone with Michael Scott, his old buddy from—actually, he didn’t know exactly how his dad had gotten mixed up with Michael, just that the two of them were as thick as thieves even though they were very different people—and that Dad always had his volume dialed way the hell up and on speaker, because he was going deaf and didn’t like to admit it, well that was stupid.

Because of course Michael heard, and since Michael was somehow in possession of the money, inclination, and free time to start a coffee shop of his own and not the knowledge of how to actually do any of the necessary steps to actually doing it, he immediately enlisted Dad to twist Jim’s arm into helping him.

Not that Jim didn’t like Michael. But he had known going in it would be a lot to be working for him and seeing him every day, and while his dad did negotiate him some surprisingly good terms of employment, and he had really been listlessly wandering about waiting for someone (anyone) to even respond with a no let alone a yes to any of his post-college job applications, it was constantly running at fifty-fifty whether this was a marvelous windfall of an opportunity that fell into his lap or the worst thing that ever happened to him.

So yeah, Jim has had problems for a while now. Michael is a whole passel of problems. Dwight Kurt Schrute is his own barrel of them. The espresso machine that is about two steps too complicated for the kind of coffee shop they’re trying to be is another. But those are mundane, ordinary, everyday problems.

This is different.

The other problems? He knows what to do with them. He’s used to them. They’re like white noise: sure, you might go deaf like his dad, or have a headache all day, because of it, but your brain also learns to tune it out.

He is physically incapable of tuning this problem out, because it comes in the form of the most perfect woman—no, the most perfect person—he has ever met.

Part of what makes her perfect of course is her imperfections. The way she always slinks into the coffee shop like she’s a little embarrassed to be there (that’s fair: it’s Michael’s dreamscape, she ought to be a little embarrassed to be in it). The way she laughs like it constantly surprises her that she’s capable of laughter. The little dance she does when she finishes a game of solitaire even though he’s pretty sure she’s telling herself she’s at the coffee shop to work.

The fact that she comes to a coffee shop every day even though he’s pretty sure by now that she doesn’t like coffee. Not just doesn’t like, but probably can’t stand.

Despite or perhaps because of all of that, she’s perfect.

She makes him laugh. Now, an outside observer might not really think that was all that impressive. Jim Halpert is an easygoing guy. He’s likeable. He likes in return. He seems like the sort of person who laughs a lot, and he is. But most of the time, he’s laughing because he’s the one saying something funny or noticing something that other people didn’t. He doesn’t have a lot of people in his life (his sister excepted) who can make him laugh on demand, intentionally. He’s not counting Dwight, whom he laughs at, or Michael, whom he laughs for because he doesn’t want to cry. He means actual, intentional, humorous laughter.

She’s funny.

And it doesn’t hurt that she’s drop-dead gorgeous in that casual, this took me a little effort but only as much as I’d do for myself and not for your male gaze thank you very much way.

So why is this a problem?

It’s a problem because Jim suddenly finds himself zoning out at work, staring at her back as she types away at her computer (that’s not a huge problem, because he doesn’t actually have all that much to do, but it’s awkward when he’s trying to use the steamer). It’s a problem because he’s mopping the floors near where she sits three times a day to have an excuse to get closer to her, and because she’s a creature of habit who sits in the same chair at the same table most of the time, you can actually tell the difference in wear on that part of the floor. It’s a problem because he’s had to physically prevent Michael from putting “The Cleveland Steamer” on the board as her drink order three times already, because Michael thinks it’s funny for some disgusting reason.

Mostly, it’s a problem because he’s in customer service, and it’s a really bad idea to date your customers.

Not that he’s convinced she’d be interested. He hopes, hopes a lot, but he’s not going to be the one to initiate anything. After all, she’s coming to the shop for her own reasons, and they don’t have so many customers that he can drive one away. Besides, if he did that he wouldn’t get to joke with her at the counter or have her gesture him over when she finds something cool on the Internet.

Basically, it’s a problem because he’s a coward.

And he knows he’s going to go right on being a coward as long as he can.