It isn’t that Hank hates Jim Halpert.
That’s not exactly the right way to put it. It’s more like he seriously wants to cause him bodily harm, also known as punching him in the face.
He’s been dreaming about it for hours.
Because the damn kid called him five times. Five. Begging him to drive his ass all the way back to work (which he truly does hate) and unlock a gate for a bunch of stupid ass people who stayed until 9 PM probably playing pin the tail on the goddamn donkey.
He doesn’t know what the hell goes on in that office, but it’s nothing normal.
Then he gets over there and the damn place is full of cleaning women.
He’s pretty sure Jim Halpert has never been a cleaning woman in his short span of a lazy life, so Hank figures this was either a prank or Jim Halpert just neglected to call him and politely inform him that everyone had made it out safely without the help of the Safety Guard.
No need for the Safety Guard to get dressed and drive twenty minutes in the middle of the night.
God forbid anybody make any phone calls.
Now he’s back home huffing to himself and pacing the length of his bedroom, which he does for a good hour before his adrenaline finally drops and he flops into bed next to his deep-sleeping wife.
No, it isn’t that he hates Jim Halpert. It’s just that he has some nasty nasty feelings toward him currently.
He figures they’ll fade while he sleeps.
He wakes up surlier and angrier than he was when he went to bed, and his wife cocks an eyebrow at him when she sets his bowl of Frosted Flakes down in front of him and he just grunts at her. What the hell do a bunch of paper salesmen need a Security Guard for? He has yet to encounter some crazy person running into the building and stealing a bunch of copy paper in a blind rage or anything. Nobody ever does anything crazy at Scranton Business Park because it’s in Scranton. He’s got half a mind to quit this goddamn job and go back to working security over at the mall. He got paid less and had to deal with a bunch of kids, but at least nobody was calling him at 9 P.M. whining about gates and parking lots.
He shakes his head and his wife crosses her arms at him.
“Your face is going to freeze that way,” she tells him and he frowns a little deeper just because he can.
He notices things, you know. He really does. He noticed that Vance Refrigeration gave him a card and a bottle of wine at Christmas, and he noticed that the heating and air conditioning guys gave him a hand held fan and fifty bucks. The warehouse guys bought him a pizza.
And he’s not a greedy guy, but the fact of the matter is that the paper salesmen at Dunder Muffin didn’t give him anything. No thank you, no card, no present, no piece of paper with a waving stick figure drawn on it wearing a little santa hat…
He figures that was Jim Halpert’s fault.
And last night was definitely Jim Halpert’s fault.
Then everything that goes wrong all weekend somehow seems like Jim Halpert’s fault, and Hank drives to work on Monday and hits every red light, and he finds a way to blame Jim Halpert for that, too.
And when he finally arrives, a couple of people pull in at the same time and they‘re all walking into the building together: Hank, and three people from Dunder Muffin, and right at the threshold Hank ‘trips’ and somehow Jim Halpert ends up with a bloody broken nose.
Karma, Hank thinks, shaking his head and smiling.
What a bitch.