Five Days

By Jody E.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Monday

Jim flipped a new page on his desk calendar. Ah…January 8th. A date that would live in infamy. Today it was exactly two years that he had been working at Dunder Mifflin. As if January wasn’t depressing enough. And it was only 9:05, so he had the whole day to get though yet.

Mondays were always terrible days for sales calls. Nobody was ever in. Even the receptionists he spoke to, tended to be surly on Mondays. As though they weren’t being paid enough to be polite to some guy who interrupted their crossword puzzles or computer solitaire. And Mondays in January were even worse. It was what he thought of as the winter doldrums. The holidays were over. The weather was crummy…all dirty snow and slush. And he had been working here for two years.

The phone at the reception desk rang. And rang again, and again. The latest in a long line of temps, Tiffany, must have set the machine incorrectly, because it didn’t pick up until after four loud, annoying rings. She hadn’t lasted long, because she couldn’t quite get the hang of the phone system. Luckily, Michael hadn’t had to actually fire her. He just called the temp agency, as usual, and they did the dirty work for him.

Jim got up and went behind the reception desk, where he reset the voice mail to pick up on the first ring.

Before the temps, there had been a regular receptionist, Pregnant Peggy. Jim always thought of her that way, because being pregnant was her major defining feature. She had only one topic of conversation. If you said it was warm outside, she told you how the heat bothered her, since she was pregnant. If you commented on the latest movie, she said that movie theater seats were so uncomfortable...now that she was pregnant. In addition, she had never made the connection that if she could hear all of Jim’s phone conversations, since his desk was about five feet away from hers, that he could hear hers. And so she discussed her pregnancy with her mother and several friends, in great gynecological detail. The result of which was that Jim decided that if his sales job didn’t work out...he could always get work as an obstetrician.

Finally, last month, after what seemed like years of pregnancy, Peggy had gone into labor and was now on maternity leave. He didn’t think she would be coming back, since she planned to be a stay at home mom at least for a few years. So, he imagined the parade of Tiffanies and Ambers would continue until they found somebody who could deal with a four-line phone system.

At the adjoining desk, Jim’s other annoyance, Dwight Schrute, sat, immersed in some computer game. Even though Jim couldn’t see his monitor and Dwight had the sound turned off, Jim knew what he was doing, because every so often Dwight would mutter things like, "Aha!" and "Take that, Zord!" Dwight was a good salesman, but even he knew enough not to try to make sales calls on a Monday morning in January.

Jim took out the want ads that he had rescued from Sunday’s paper. It was time he moved out of his parents’ house and found a place of his own. Now that he had been working for two years, he had paid off most of his student loans and had saved enough money for the first and last month’s rent that most places demanded. His girlfriend, Donna, had been strongly hinting that they find a place together, but Jim wasn’t quite ready for that kind of commitment. He hadn’t even really lived on his own yet.

Jim had met Donna about ten months ago, working in the jewelry department of Lord and Taylor, where he had gone to buy a present for his mother’s fiftieth birthday. She had helped him pick out a pair of earrings, and he had asked her out right there and then. She was a pretty girl with sharp features and smooth blond hair, what Jim liked to think of as his type. She dressed very well and was always perfectly made up. Next to her, Jim always felt kind of rumpled, with his unruly hair and rolled up shirtsleeves. But he admired the perfection of her, and she didn’t seem to mind that he didn’t match.

They got along well, and had a pretty good time together, but Jim didn’t consider himself "in love" with her, whatever that meant. And for that reason he was hesitant about making any further commitment. Maybe he’d seen The Godfather too many times, and was waiting for "the thunderbolt." Or maybe a pretty face and fashionable clothes weren’t quite enough to base a future on. But Jim enjoyed the convenience and perks of having a steady girlfriend, and so ten months had passed without much change in the status quo.

At 9:20, Dwight got up and headed for the bathroom. Dwight had many annoying qualities. In fact, his entire personality irritated Jim no end. But one of his better quirks was that he apparently had a bladder the size of a pea. At least 6 times a day, Dwight would get up and disappear into the men’s room, leaving Jim access to his desk, and all of Dwight’s treasured belongings. Today, Jim was mainly interested in Dwight’s phone. As soon as he was out of sight, Jim quickly grabbed the headset and unscrewed it. Inside it were several nickels. Jim quickly added another one, and screwed the head back on. He was busy circling likely apartments for rent when Dwight returned. As always on his return, Dwight examined his workspace suspiciously, looking for something amiss. When all seemed normal, he sat down and resumed his game.

Jim’s war of attrition with Dwight had started a year ago, not coincidentally, on his first anniversary at Dunder Mifflin. Dwight had come into work that day with a new pencil holder from Staples, a tall cup of pierced metal. He had then spent the next hour arranging and rearranging an assortment of pencils, pens and markers in this cup as though he were arranging flowers in a vase. He had sharpened each pencil precisely, and had gotten one each of every color pen from the storage closet. By the end of the hour Jim had a raging headache and during his break, he ran to the drug store for some Advil. There, right at the checkout counter, he saw a box of crayons, the big thick kind for small children. On impulse he bought them, and later when Dwight had gone to the bathroom, he quickly grabbed all of the pencils and pens out of the holder and filled it with crayons.

It wasn’t much of a joke, and if Dwight had laughed, or shrugged it off, that probably would have been the end of it. But instead, Dwight had responded in spectacular manner, acting as though he had been personally violated. He questioned everybody in the room, and Jim saw him sealing the offending Crayolas in a zip lock plastic baggie from the breakroom, undoubtedly to bring them home and dust them for fingerprints. Dwight had saved Jim for last, though he had no particular reason to suspect him. Jim looked Dwight right in the eye and denied everything with an innocent face, all the while doodling on a pad with one of Dwight’s freshly sharpened number 2 pencils. When Dwight had gone off in a huff to complain to Michael, Jim had laughed silently to himself. It was the first truly satisfying moment he had had in that entire year.

At 9:20 Michael came in, and sighing loudly at the empty reception desk, he went behind it to attempt to retrieve his messages. Jim hid a smile, while watching Michael out of the corner of his eye pushing buttons seemingly at random. In this manner, he managed to erase all of the messages on his voice mail without actually hearing them. He looked around frantically to see if this had been observed. When he caught Jim’s eye, he tried to act nonchalant. "If it’s really important, they’ll call back, "he announced, "it teaches them persistence. Oh, by the way, I have an interview at ten. For a new receptionist, Thank God. When she gets here, send her in." And Michael disappeared into his office, where he did heaven knows what all day.

Jim went back to his want ads. Oh, this was interesting. Somebody was looking to share a two-bedroom house. All of the apartments he had seen lately had been sterile boxes. This sounded intriguing. And the rent wasn’t bad either. He called the number and asked for Mark. After some discussion he arranged to stop over there after work today to check the place, and Mark, out, and be checked out himself in return.

The door opened and a girl walked in, looking around nervously. This must be Michael’s interview, Jim thought. The first thing that Jim noticed about her was that she had a lot of rather frizzy hair, which she had tried to tame by pulling part of it back into a barrette. He couldn’t really see her face, since she was looking down, seemingly studying her feet, and he couldn’t tell much about her figure since she was wearing a very unflattering boxy jacket and matching skirt…obviously a "dress for success" business suit, with a horrible big floppy bow at the neck. Well, at least she wasn’t a Tiffany, Jim thought, but God...Michael was going to eat her alive!

"Hey," he said with a big smile, hoping to put her at ease before she had to deal with Michael.

"Hi, " she mumbled, looking up slightly, "Are you Mr. Scott?"

She had nice eyes, but in a very glum face. In fact, Jim couldn’t recall ever seeing such lack of enthusiasm in a job candidate before, well except maybe himself two years ago. He had managed to hide his reluctance successfully enough to have been hired. He didn’t think that this girl was going to make it. Michael liked his receptionists perky and this girl was the opposite of that.

"No. He’s in his office, but you’re early. Let me buy you a cup of coffee. It’s right in here." He led her to the break room. "There’s coffee made right here. Or would you prefer tea? My name is Jim, by the way."

"Tea would be great, thanks. My name is Pam. I’m kind of nervous. I’ve never worked in a company like this before."

Jim poured hot water from the dispenser over a tea bag in a Styrofoam cup and handed it to Pam. "There’s milk in the refrigerator. And sugar etc. on the counter. So where did you work before?"

She sighed, "In an art gallery. But the pay was awful."

"Well, the pay here is only semi-awful, so I guess it’s a step up."

She didn’t exactly smile, but her face looked a bit less glum. "What is Mr. Scott like?"

Jim smiled, "Do you really want this job?"

She sighed again, "Yes."

"Could you say it with a little less enthusiasm? Because you’re really bowling me over here!"

She gave a little half smile, "Let’s put it this way. I really need this job."

"Okay then. One thing you’ve got to know. Michael considers himself a comedian. Laugh at his jokes, no matter how lame, and I assure you, they will be lame, and you’re hired. Can you do that?"

"Laugh?"

"You know, smile, giggle, chortle, make snorting noises…anything?"

"I can laugh. I actually laugh a lot, " she said, defensively, "when something’s funny."

At that moment Dwight burst into the break room, "What are you doing? Who is this?" he asked Jim accusingly.

"Relax, Dwight. This is Pam. She has an interview with Michael in ten minutes for the receptionist job. Didn’t you see her come in?"

"No...I was at a very crucial part in my g…sales report. I am very focused, " he said to Pam, studying her appraisingly. "Anyway...do not listen to anything he tells you. He is a pathological liar. Do you like…beets?"

"Beets? Like the vegetable?"

"I own a beet farm. Sixty acres. Arable land. With a nine bedroom farmhouse. Think about it." He disappeared into the men’s room.

Pam looked at Jim and he looked back at her. "He obviously thinks you are good breeding stock. Think about it." He said in perfect imitation.

Pam suddenly burst into giggles. And her whole face transformed. Wow. Now this was a pretty girl. But that outfit was still a deal killer. Jim looked at the clock. No time for a makeover.

"Excuse me, but can you take that jacket off? It’s kind of, uh, big. And we don’t dress all that formally here."

Pam took off the suit jacket, revealing a very nice figure in a white silky blouse. It still had that bow at the neck, but this was a hundred percent better. Jim knew what Michael liked, and this girl would definitely do.

"I think you had better get in there. Good luck." He escorted her to Michael’s office and sat back down at his desk. He kind of hoped that she would get the job. He couldn’t tolerate one more Tiffany.

Twenty minutes later Michael emerged from his office with Pam, "Ladieees and Gentlemen, " He announced loudly in his best ringmaster’s voice, "And children of all ages…I would like to present our new Receptionist, Miz Pam Beesly. Pamela."

"Pam, "she corrected.

"Isn’t she cute?"

Dwight looked at Pam’s white blouse with a proprietary gleam in his eyes, undoubtedly thinking of thirsty Schrute babies.

Michael continued, " But hands off, all you guys. Our little Pammy here is engaged. To be married. And to our very own Roy Anderson down in the warehouse. When’s the big day, Pam?"

Pam looked startled by Michael’s announcement but replied gamely, "Some time this summer. We haven’t set a date yet."

Jim was also startled. He hadn’t seen any rings on her fingers, and had just assumed that she was single. Not that it mattered, but he found that he was curiously disappointed. Well, at least Dwight was thwarted. The look on his face was almost worth it. And besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t have a girlfriend, himself. Weird, he thought to himself. For a moment there he had almost forgotten about Donna.

"Anyhoo...let’s all be sure to give Pamela here a big Dunder Mifflin welcome. Show her that we are one big happy family. A happy family that happens to sell paper. You did say you could start immediately, right?"

Pam nodded, and shot a frightened little glance at Jim. He gave her an ok sign with his hand, as a show of support and she followed Michael behind the reception desk.

"Okay Pam. Here is your phone, and it’s a piece of cake. I’m kind of busy right now…Mondays are my busiest day, or I’d teach you how it works, but here is the manual. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Just write all of my messages on this pad here when I’m out and screen any calls from Corporate. Jan has been on my case for the last week. You know how to use a computer, right? Oh right. You used one at the gallery, you said. Okay. My calendar is on Outbound, or Outlook…something like that. You’ll find it. Good luck. Lunch is at noon." And Michael disappeared back into his office.

Pam sat down at the desk and looked around, at a loss. Suddenly, the phone rang, and she jumped. She picked it up, "Hello. I mean, Dunder Mifflin. Uh...good morning."

"And who is this, please?"

"Oh. Wait. Um. Let me transfer you. " She found the hold button and pushed it with relief.

Jim had been watching this exchange with amusement. He got up and went behind the reception desk. Pam looked up at him, "Mr. Scott didn’t teach me how to use this phone. We only had one line at the gallery, and nobody ever called there, anyway."

"He doesn’t know how. Let me show you. Who is it? "

"Jan?"

"Well, he’s going to have to talk to her eventually. Push this button to transfer the call to Michael, and tell him it’s Jan. He’s not going to be happy, but that’s tough. He’s a big boy. He can handle it."

Pam transferred the call to Michael, despite his several muttered excuses.

For the next few minutes Jim showed Pam how to use the phone, and how to find Michael’s schedule on the computer. Unlike the Tiffanies and Ambers he had similarly trained, she picked it up quickly and by noon she had it down.

At lunchtime, Jim invited Pam to join Kevin and himself in the breakroom. She said that Roy had promised to come up and eat with her on her first day, but when he hadn’t shown up by quarter after, she came in and sat with them, and ate her yogurt. Jim explained that people did various things at lunchtime. Dwight always left on mysterious Dwight errands during lunch. Michael liked the McDonald’s drive through, while the "lifers" ate sandwiches at their desks or in the breakroom. Jim explained that the "lifers," Phyllis, Meredith, Stanley and Sidney, were people who had been with the company, probably since the days when Dunder Mifflin was still selling papyrus, and would be with the company until they died or retired, whichever came first. Toby, the quiet Human Resources guy, who had taken Pam’s paperwork, also left during lunch on mysterious errands. It was said that he was having marital difficulties. And then there were Tom and Catherine. Tom was the new guy in the accounting department, while Catherine was a voluptuous redhead in Customer service. For some reason they always seemed to disappear together somewhere at lunch time. Nobody knew what that was all about, though Kevin had a few suspicions. Jim shrugged his shoulders at Pam, and made a face suggesting that he couldn’t imagine what Kevin was talking about, and she smiled.

In the afternoon, Pam asked Jim a couple more questions about the fax machine and the copier, but by the end of the day, she was pretty much up to speed. He told her that if she moved her computer monitor to the other side of the desk so that it faced away from the door, she could play solitaire or catch up on her e-mail and nobody would be the wiser. She said that she would never do that. Jim smiled.

At 5:00, Roy from the warehouse came up to claim his fiancée. Jim had seen him around before. He was a big, good looking guy, with high school football star written all over him. Oddly, Pam didn’t seem like the cheerleader type. When Pam asked Roy where he had been at lunchtime, he apologized and said that he had been playing foosball with Darryl and had lost track of the time. Still, Jim noticed that Pam brightened up a lot when Roy came in, and that pretty much told him the whole story. As Pam and Roy headed for the door, though, Pam turned around and gave Jim a friendly little wave and mouthed "Thank you." Jim smiled. Maybe his third year at Dunder Mifflin might actually be bearable.