Chapter One

                At sixteen she had made a timeline for the rest of her life.  She had been somewhat destitute at the time, and it seemed that the best way to get where you were going was to have a plan.  High school wasn't exactly the ideal situation for her but in two years she'd be in college...at MICA, studying art.  By twenty-one she'd have a job as an art director in publishing or advertising.  Once she had established her career she could get married, buy a little white house with blue shutters and a picket fence, a terrace and a little garden. They'd have a baby by the time she was twenty-five.  She'd take a year off after that, to focus on being a mom, maybe sell a few paintings.  At thirty-six she'd be able to open her own studio-maybe teach a few art classes.  After retirement at sixty-five, she'd travel the world, making all the necessary stops: the Louvre, the Met, the National Gallery in London, time permitting.  Whatever happened after all that had been accomplished seemed to be of little consequence.

                But the winter of her senior year, she got a form-letter rejection from MICA-Maryland was pretty far anyways.  She ended up at Lackawanna College.  She took a couple art classes there, but earning an Associate's Degree in Office Administration seemed more practical than majoring in art.

                After college she tried her hand at a few careers that were completely unsuitable.  She worked as a physical therapist aide for several months, but that was a lawsuit waiting to happen...Then she got a job with the customer service call center at BJ's Wholesale Club, naturally, that didn't last long.  She had enjoyed working at Macy's in store sales support, but that had only been seasonal.

                Needless to say, by twenty-six, with no significant other or little bundle of blue or pink, she was starting to worry that she was slipping dangerously behind with her neatly laid plans for her life.

She had been looking for a job in graphic design, perhaps with a magazine or in advertising, but artists were not exactly in high demand in Scranton, PA.  Unfortunately, the real world would not be put on hold as she quested for that ideal career; there were bills to pay: water and electricity, and the rent on her tiny studio apartment.  She found a job as a receptionist at the local office of a small paper company.

                She promised herself it would only be temporary, but she couldn't put aside the hope that it could be the start of something good.  So she bought a new blouse, and makeup, even went out for a manicure.  Her spirits were up by the time she pulled into the parking lot at 9:03 on her first day of work.  She locked her car and paced up to the building with a smile on her face and her head held high, entering the first floor lobby she offered the security guard a whole-hearted, "Good morning."

                "Today will be a good day," she told herself as the elevator began its slow ascent.  "Today will be a good day."  She had been so sure of herself in that moment, even as the elevator pinged gently to alert her that she had reached her floor.  Starting today there would be no more stagnancy; no more monotonous, insipid existence.  Things seemed so full of promise in those moments.

                But on that day, Pam Beesly met Michael Scott and the whole world as she knew it came crashing down around her ears.