Michael presses his thumbs into his eyes and groans as he walks back into his office and says to Jim, “Fine, but you are now in charge of coming up with a new award for Pam.”

He nods from the doorway, “Okay.”

“And it better be good, Jim. Because people’s lives are at stake here.”

He’s halfway to his desk already and he says, “Yeah, I understand. Don’t worry, Michael.”

So he spends his day trying to come up with a proper Dundie to give to her. But all he manages to come up with before lunch are stupid things that sound like high school yearbook superlatives. Like an award for her smile having the highest wattage. Like an award for her eyes or her hair. It’s so pathetic and he scratches each one off on his little pad of paper.

She stands over his shoulder with her lunch in her hand. It’s 1:30 and his pad filled with nothing now but thick dark lines of pencil is still sitting in front of him.

“What are you doing?” She asks as she reaches over to pick up the pad from his desk.

He stops her quickly, grabbing it and putting it in his top drawer. “Oh, uh, nothing. Just something stupid Michael wanted me to do.”

“Oh?” And that excuse was a mistake because now she’s just intrigued. And when she’s intrigued she lifts her eyebrows and presses her lips together and he always has to clench his fists really tightly to keep from touching her.

“Yeah, for tonight. He wanted me to surprise him with his own Dundie so I’m trying to think up something to give him an award for.” He’s so thankful for his ability to think on his feet. “How do you feel about a Dundie for the most unintentional racial slurs spoken in under a minute?”

She smiles with all 100 plus watts, “Perfect.” And then she nudges his shoulder with her lunch bag, “Come on, let’s eat.”

As he watches her pick at her salad, he’s still trying to come up with an award for her. “If you hate cucumbers so much, why don’t you leave them out? You do make this salad yourself, don’t you?”

She smiles down at her lettuce and says a little sheepishly, “It comes from a bag.”

“I see.”

Cutest Lunch Room Habits? No.

Most Seductive Tomato Eating? No.

Best Knees to Bump Into Under A Table? No.

“What are you thinking about? You seem sort of spaced out,” she says with a mouthful of salad and a bit of dressing in the corner of her mouth.

He comes out of his reverie in time to shake his head. “Nothing. I’m just so pumped for the Dundies.”

She laughs, “Only you, Jim.”

Best Three Words To Be Spoken Today? No.

At four, he still has nothing but lines on his page so he looks at her and writes down random observations about her that could be awards.

Stripiest Shirts (He cringes as he makes up the word stripiest, but her shirts are always striped and there’s that dark blue one that makes her- But the stripes are what’s important.)

Whitest Sneakers (She’s been wearing this pair of Keds since sometime in July and they still haven’t gotten dirty like his Mom’s used to.)

Most Faxes Successfully Sent Out

Most Calls Successfully Transferred

And those start to weigh him down a little as he watches her answer the phone again. Anyway, he’s pretty sure Michael wouldn’t choose either of those. Too boring. Not funny enough.

But he’s tired of trying to come up with anything good so he just quickly adds to the bottom of the list:

Best Dunder Mifflin Receptionist

When he hands the list to Michael at five, he looks it over with his brow furrowing and then crumples it up and throws it in the trash can and looks at Jim, “Yeah, because these awards are really going to keep people from killing themselves. Come on, Jim? Whitest Sneakers? How is that more entertaining than a never ending engagement?”

Jim stands there wordlessly.

“Fine, you know what? It’s…fine. Just go.”