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Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the concept or even really the style.

 

(Tuesday, January 21, 2004. Jim is 24, Pam is 22)

When the new receptionist of Dunder-Mifflin Scranton walked through the door, Jim Halpert knew he would marry her. He knew it as fully as he knew that the earth is round and there are 365 days in a calendar year. He knew, not because she was absolutely gorgeous in a completely unassuming way. He knew, not because of her lovely auburn curls or the brilliance of even a reluctant smile as Michael Scott introduced her as Pam-a-rama (though those were quite charming as well).

And because of this certainty, he couldn’t help grinning to himself as he rushed the reception desk and introduced himself. He flashed what he hoped was a brilliant smile as he offered her his hand. “Hi, I’m Jim, Jim Halpert, and I am, unfortunately, a paper salesman here at Dunder-Mifflin.” Take it slow, buddy, he told himself, she doesn’t know you like you know her.

“Pam Beesly,” She said and returned the smile with gratitude as she shook his hand. “Tell me,” She asked in a conspirator’s tone, “Is this place always so…drab? And is Michael always so…crazy?”

Jim laughed, “Yes, and yes, though you haven’t met Dwight yet, so be careful how you use the word ‘crazy.’”

“Thanks for the warning. Is he the guy with the bumper sticker that says ‘Bonkers for Beets’?” She asked.

If possible, Jim fell a little bit more in love with her. “Yes, yes he is and you are possibly the most intuitive person I’ve ever met.”

Michael, with his ever perfect timing, picked that exact moment to yell, “Pam! Meeting in my office!”

Pam grimaced. “First day and a meeting in Michael’s office? So much for easing into it.”

Jim chuckled, “You’ll be fine.” An unexpected bout of nervousness took that moment to strike, and Jim stumbled through the following invitation. “Hey, do you maybe want to go to lunch today? I can fill you in on everyone in the office; get you used to the place, y’know.” He shrugged.

She smiled. “I’d love to.”

“Pam! Now!” Michael interrupted.

It wasn’t until later, at Cugino’s, when Pam said, “Roy, my fiancée, works in the office,” that all of the giddy happiness drained from Jim’s face. This part of the story had been conveniently left out. He'd thought all he had to do was find her, and from there it'd be smooth sailing. Engaged? To some asshole named Roy in the warehouse? For the rest of lunch he smiled and continued to half heartedly make conversation, but every so often his jaw would clench almost imperceptibly in anger.

Jim Halpert had been tricked.


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