Stanley Hudson walked into the office Monday morning fully expecting to see Pancake Day in full swing, despite Ryan's efforts to halt it on Friday. He had included a stop at Perkins on his way to work, and had taken his time. Stanley was prepared to honestly say he'd already had some King-sized pancakes, thank you very much, so he wasn't hungry.

He and his wife Terri had talked for a long time that morning, trying to guess what horrible theme the Party Planning Committee had chosen for a Martin Luther King Day celebration -- probably brown, black, and tan streamers, with photocopies of the cover of Michael's cherished book tacked up all over. Maybe they'd go with the ‘rainbow' theme, Red Indian, Orange Floridian, Yellow Asian, Green... they hadn't been able to come up with what Michael might have suggested for Green, but they knew it wouldn't be good.

With the mound of pancakes sitting in his stomach, and possible Pancake Day themes swirling in his head, Stanley walked into the office with a heavy heart and heavy footstep and hung up his coat on the coat rack. He turned toward his desk, fearing to look at the walls and into the conference room. Knowing that a delay would only make it worse, Stanley scanned the room. Then he scanned it again. Not only were there no streamers of any color, but the office seemed strangely quiet.

Stanley looked at each desk. No Dwight. No Phyllis. No...Michael? No Michael! On a normal day, Stanley beat Michael in by about an hour, but Stanley was well over an hour later than usual. Michael's office was dark; it was clear he hadn't come in.

Jim Halpert looked up from his desk and noticed Stanley, still standing astonished next to the coat rack. "Hey, Stanley!" said Jim.

"Michael better not have gotten the day off for free," said Stanley with no preamble, "or I am going to call Ryan again."

"Nope, actually, Michael, Dwight, and um...Phyllis are all at Scranton's Day of Service."

"They're what?" said Stanley.

"They're volunteering for Martin Luther King Day, helping out wherever the volunteer center sends them - they're painting, moving gravel or dirt to grade lots, whatever. Basically, churches, schools, rec centers, anyone who needs work done, but doesn't have the money to pay for it, is getting some free labor today," said Jim with a big smile.

"Michael, Dwight, and Phyllis?" Stanley chuckled. The horribly painful day he had envisioned had just turned unimaginably bright -- no Michael, no Pancake Day, no incessant honking nose-blowing from Dwight (Why couldn't he get rid of that cold?), no stinky perfumes, and no whispered too-personal phone calls between Phyllis and Bob Vance.

"Also," said Jim, "I hope you don't mind, but Pam's going to forward all of Dwight's client calls to you..."

Stanley walked to his desk, chuckling, "Jim, nothing would make me happier." He well remembered a sick day last year when Dwight had managed to steal three of his clients. It was going to be a glorious day.

*****************************************************

Michael showed up at the address at nine o'clock, just like Jim had told him to. He was somewhat troubled to see that the building was the Voluntary Action Center, but he brightened up when he saw the banner which read "Day of Service." As he searched the crowd for Stanley and others from his work family, Michael wondered what sorts of services would be provided. Jan had been after him for months to get a professional manicure, so it would be perfect if they had those. A massage might help his neck, as long as the masseuse didn't ask about how the muscles got so tight. Maybe he could think up a reason for that. He hoped he wouldn't have to get his eyebrows waxed -- the wax was so hot, and the one time Jan made him get it done, the clean shiny space between his brows looked sort of girly. If he had the chance, he'd try for a manicure and a massage, and stay far away from the line for waxing. Michael finally spotted Phyllis and Bob Vance in the crowd, and headed toward them. Maybe they'd have one of those seaweed wraps for Phyllis -- those were supposed to be slimming. Maybe she could have a few of those.

A familiar voice called out from behind him. "Michael! I'm here!" Of course, Dwight was there. It looked like none of the popular people from Dunder Mifflin had shown up, and not even any of his rainbow people. The services better be worth being stuck with Dwight and Phyllis and Bob all day. Michael wondered what Martin Luther King Day had to do with a day of pampering. He thought Kelly should definitely have come to this -- she loved manicures and stuff, and it honored Reverend King at the same time, somehow.

*****************************************************

Jeff Donnelly had been watching the arrivals at the Voluntary Action Center since about quarter of nine, looking in particular for a few people his buddy Jim had described to him. Most of the people would be randomly assigned to jobs, or be allowed to choose, but the specific requests Jim had made for his Dunder Mifflin co-workers would be no problem to accommodate.

Phyllis was easy to recognize from Jim's description, part of which was "her husband will be with her -- tall guy, late 40s/early 50s, adoring her and hanging onto her every word." Recognizing Dwight Schrute was no problem either; Jim had been talking about that guy for years, and his skills of mimicry had brought Dwight alive more than once. Michael Scott took a little longer to find, although part of it was that he wasn't early like the others, so Jeff kept evaluating people he'd already seen. Then a dark-haired man with a goofy and excited smile on his face joined the rest (Goofy, check! Excited, check!); he also seemed to be searching the crowd for someone he knew. When Jeff saw Dwight get Michael's attention, he knew that the Dunder Mifflin gang was all accounted for.

Standing on the top step of the VAC with the other coordinators of Service Day, Jeff held up a hand. "Good morning, everyone!" His voice carried to the furthest volunteer, the product of years of yelling instructions to his fire crew and citizens in trouble. A few "Good morning!"s came from the crowd.

"Welcome to the Scranton Day of Service! I'm Jeff Donnelly, and I'm in charge here today. I want to say upfront that we all really appreciate you coming together in the spirit of Martin Luther King, Jr. to help out your neighbors!" Jeff smiled inwardly at the puzzled look on Michael Scott's face; Jim had said Michael wouldn't have any idea of what was in store for him.

"We have a lot to do today, and we're going to be splitting up to get it all done. As I go through the list, I'll let you know who to sign up with for each job, and then we can go ahead and break up into groups. I have my eye on a few of you for specific tasks I think you'll be especially good at, so if I come talk to you directly, I hope you'll go with my recommendation." Many people in the crowd nodded; Michael still looked confused.

After reading through his list, Jeff watched as people started milling around the various group leaders to sign up. He made his way over to the Dunder Mifflin people who were standing together discussing the options.

"Hey, let me help you all out -- I can see you're having trouble deciding."

"I don't know, they all sound good," Phyllis said with a shy smile.

"You know, I think I should probably just go in to work," said Michael. "This isn't really what I was expecting, and they probably need me there."

As Phyllis said, "We all work together; they don't really need him there," Bob Vance leaned in to Jeff and said quietly, "He thought it was ‘services,' like he was going to get a manicure."

Jeff looked at Bob and then Michael. He managed to keep from laughing out loud, and instead smiled at Michael. "You were actually one of the people I had my eye on for a specific place. Your name is...?"

Michael puffed up with self-importance. "Michael Scott, Dunder Mifflin Scranton. I'm actually the manager of that fine establishment. That's probably why you noticed me -- you recognized the leadership spark in me."

Bob Vance rolled his eyes at Michael's statement, but Dwight was nodding through the whole thing.

"Jeff! I am Dwight Schrute, Dunder Mifflin's top-selling salesman. Here is my card," he handed Jeff his business card. "I can take care of all your paper needs. Anytime. All my phone numbers are there. Also, like Michael, I have a leadership spark." Dwight had leaned closer and closer to Jeff; his head was now uncomfortably close to Jeff's, as if to ensure his leadership spark would be seen clearly.

"Yeeesss. Well, I had already noticed that, and I was planning to put you at the same place as Michael. We need a lot of go-getter types at the church site."

Dwight pumped his arm in the air with a "Yes!" and flashed a triumphant smile at Michael, who in turn looked annoyed.

Turning to Phyllis and Bob, "As for you two..."

"Bob Vance, Vance Refrigeration," said Bob, shaking Jeff's hand. "My wife, Phyllis Vance." Phyllis smiled sweetly.

"Nice to meet you folks; thanks so much for coming. I was thinking you two could help out either at the Progressive Center or over at Mountain Rest."

"Phyllis, Mountain Rest sounds great for you," said Michael. "You'll fit right in with the nursing home crowd."

Bob Vance glared at Michael; Phyllis looked hurt, but commented to Jeff, "He and I are the same age; he just pretends he doesn't remember."

Jeff nodded, and Phyllis went on, "The Progressive Center, that was helping the people who are teaching the teens about the Underground Railroad?"

"Right, and also serving sandwiches for the march to City Hall," said Jeff. "Oh, excuse me; I've just remembered something."

He ran up the stairs of the VAC again and used his bullhorn voice, "Everyone, hello! I forgot to mention this! Your group leaders have the details, but starting at 4:15 there are a lot of things going on, including a march to City Hall and speeches. Also, please join us for cake and hot cocoa at the Scranton Cultural Center at 6:30, and an interfaith service at Salvation Temple Church at 7:00!" Jeff saw Michael Scott's eyes light up at ‘cake.'

*****************************************************

It was nearing sundown as Stanley drove along a run-down street in Scranton, scanning the buildings for an address Jim had given to him, promising one more treat for the day. 124... 138... 144... there it was. Stanley pulled over to the curb; it was a church, and since everyone he saw was wearing matching T-shirts over their coats, he figured it was the right place. Impatiently, Stanley scanned the yard of the church. Aha...there he was -- Michael Scott. His face was all smudged with dirt, like he'd repeatedly wiped off sweat with dirty hands. There were large circles of sweat around the underarms of his T-shirt, on which was printed:

Scranton Day of Service

Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

January 21, 2008

Michael was currently painting a door of the church with broad strokes, splattering himself with blobs of white paint. Suddenly, Stanley saw Dwight break off from the other workers. He was wearing a home-made sash over his T-shirt which read ‘Supervisor,' and he said loudly "Michael, I showed you three times how to wield your brush!" Michael appeared to protest -- the two men tugged the paint bucket back and forth between them until Dwight suddenly released it. Paint splashed onto Michael's chest, crested over him like a wave, and started to drip back down.

Stanley started to laugh, a big laugh that started down deep and burst forth like water over a dam. He hadn't thought Michael Scott could get any whiter, but a bucket of paint proved him wrong. He watched a few more minutes before driving away, savoring the image of Dwight fussing over Michael trying to wipe off the paint. Stanley would remember this day forever. From the quiet, steady workday without bothersome interruptions, to stealing four of Dwight's clients with folksy friendliness (two of his own back, and two new ones), to seeing a sweaty, dirty, paint-covered Michael, it was a golden day.