It 's a job. It's a job. Grow up.

Jim Halpert found himself chanting that every morning as he put on the button down shirt, and khakis and sighed heavily at his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t want to go in today, or tomorrow, or the next day after that. But he had to. He had to suck it up, and go to work.

It had been a month of working at that god forsaken place, and it still took everything in him to muster enough strength just to make it to the door. A monotonous day of the same activity, day after day after frigging day. This couldn’t be his life. This couldn’t be what he does nor what he’s destined to do. He didn’t go through four (okay four and a half, if one was seriously keeping count) years of papers, exams, and eating college cafe food to be stuck with this sort of career option. He grumbled about as he fished for some socks, willing himself to stop being such a whiner.

Jim's roommate Mark tried to sympathize with him when he walked into the room, getting ready for his own job.  “Dude, this is just temporary. Just a glitch in the system. God, at least it’s Friday, right?”

He gave Mark an irritated glare as he ran a hand through his bed mused hair.  He didn’t care to comb it. What for?  To impress the invisible random business man who would walk through, who would just so happen to be hiring for a better more meaningful position? Yeah, he wasn't going to delude himself. There was no one to impress. He walked over to his bed, ignoring Mark’s attempt to get him inspired, because he didn’t feel fucking inspired, he felt stuck. That tends to happen when one has a job they hate, work for a salary that sucked, and made you want to just jump in front of a damn train and call it a day. Instead of getting that dramatic, Jim buried it within him like he did every morning, and just put on his shoes, but slowly.

Mark stood in Jim's doorway as he fashioned his nametag on his shirt. He worked at Chili’s as a waiter. That sucked too, Mark had confided, but at least he got nice tips and phone numbers from random female patrons. His roommate noticed he wasn’t motivated at all by his speech.  “I mean, seriously dude…it can’t be that bad!”

Jim;s face always converyed his emotions. Today was easy to guess, irritation. “Whatever. At least you get a free meal out of your job.”

Mark conceded, “Okay…it is that bad, but ya know, we have rent to pay and I think our parents conspired against us when they did this whole financial cut off thing. We’re not kids anymore, Jim. We need to learn how to pay our own bills, wash out own clothes, and…we have to learn to cook something other than ramen noodles or ordering pizza.”

"Speaking of pizza, anymore left?"

"Er," Mark scratched his head. "Would you be terribly upset if I said I ate the rest of it like at three this morning? Munchies dude."

Jim just shook his head as he stood off his bed. "Great, ham and cheese it is."

But see, Jim Halpert wasn’t normally a complainer. He really wasn’t. That might surprise some considering his glum demeanor but honestly, he never thought he’d be doing a job that was so…not his thing. After grabbing his bagged lunch and a breakfast bar, he started his Corolla and drove to work. On the way he tried to jumpstart his energy by singing with the songs on the radio, but life wasn’t great, or a piece of cake, and any of the other happy nonsensical shit that was currently assaulting his ears early in the morning.

Jim tapped his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously, wondering when exactly his life was going to get better. When would things change? His dad just recently gave him the lecture on being a man now, taking responsibility and something else he zoned out on completely. What Jim did get is the context of his dad's comments, it was time for him to work and commit to it. What sucked the most, was right now he had no direction, except to enter the Scranton Business Park parking lot with a scowl planted across his face.

He rolled to a stop in a parking space and watched the Dunder Mifflin Paper office group head slowly and dreadfully into the building. Part of it made him feel better, because he knew they hated their jobs too.  He exited his car, pausing to collect himself before heading towards his building. Behind him, the sound of a pickup truck skidding into a parking place caught his attention. Jim assessed that had to be Roy's. Roy Anderson looked like the pickup truck type and since Jim was usually in before Roy and gone before Roy's shift was over, he never knew what he drove. Cursing under his breath, he checked his watch realizing maybe being slow this morning wasn’t a good idea. Now, his dwaddling caused him to be late. Perfect. Thanks, universe.

He opened the door and ran smack into someone, looking up to see Darryl was in his face. Darryl tilted his head, “Sup, Halpert. Our morning shipment got messed up.”

Jim groaned. “Again? What the hell, man?”

Darryl shrugged as he followed Jim to the warehouse office. “I don’t know, I’m guessing this order form isn’t as simple as it looks. They ordered 6 reams of pink paper, but we got six parcels. That’s six hundred reams of pink paper. I don’t know anyone who uses that much paper.”

Jim took off his jacket and placed it on the coat hanger. He sat in a chair as Darryl took his usual seat as foreman at his desk.  “This is the third time in two weeks.”

“I know. Shit's weird right?” Darryl shrugged "Even weirder, it’s pink paper, man…which means..."

Jim suddenly felt dread cloud over him as he came to the realization of what Darryl wanted him to do. “Oh no…no. No. I’m not going upstairs to fix this. Not with her.”

Darryl’s face remained stoic. “You have to. Lonnie said he’d quit, Roy's not here yet, and I just…can’t take her talking. No. It has to be you. Doesn’t she have like a small crush on you or something?”

He wouldn't call it a crush. He met her in the stairwell his first week, clutching a pink phone and  crying. Sometimes, he would go in the stairwell to think but she was there. He tried to be polite, ask if she was okay, and she stared up at him with mascara stained cheeks and told him some guy named Ryan was a "douche" and how this Ryan was just a stupid temp anyway. As she kept ranting, Jim zoned out, only resorting to nodding as she cried. Ever since then, she's been coming down to the warehouse asking for Jim, causing him to hide behind some of the shipments and pray Darryl doesn't point her in his direction.

"It has to be you," Darryl replied, smiling devishly. "You're handling the invoices. She seems to be having trouble on this new system. So it's your responsibility."

“You are aware she's probably doing this on purpose? Right? Her inventive way of stalking me," Jim exclaimed, but Darryl laughed.

“You know how to talk to her. Plus if Michael gets involved…”

Jim exhaled deeply, messing up his hair even more as he ran a hand through it to calm himself. This was not a good way to start his morning.  "You know I don’t go up there.”

“Part of your right of passage Jim,” Darryl replied simply, handing the form to an irritated Jim. Jim frowned as he walked out passed Madge, who sitting there, eating a breakfast burrito, nodding at him sympathetically. Lonnie was checking boxes as Jim walked towards the stairs.

“Sorry college boy, “ Lonnie offered. “I just couldn’t do it. She gets on my nerves. She talks like a hundred miles per minute and I don’t care how hot she is, I just want her to shut up.”

“She annoys me too,” Jim sighed as he climbed the steps. “And you can stop calling me that. You can call me Jim. The college boy schtick is outdated.”

“Okay…yeah okay, college boy,” Lonnie said laughing and Roy, who has just walked up started laughing too.

Jim frowned and continued towards the offices. He disliked working in the warehouse some days. He hated having to basically do everything they said because he was new. He hated having to wear the stupid uniform and grabbing barrels upon barrels of paper from the truck for hours on end. How many people actually order that much paper? Seriously. It seemed like they were receiving more than they were shipping out. Not to mention, part of him thought the warehouse crew made fun of him because they knew he was well overqualified for the job. He remembered when he first applied for it and the HR guy Toby read his application five times.

“You have a degree…” Toby replied, scanning the application, a hint of confusion in his voice.

Jim just wanted a job. After graduation his father had gotten laid off from his job and his parents were trying to scramble a decent living just for themselves. No reason to have a capable, able-bodied son mooching off of them. Jim understood, and told his parents not to worry about him, he could learn to take care of himself. So he immediately stated to peruse the Scranton Times Daily, looking for some kind of gainful employment. Mark’s parents had cut him off also, stating he was just a leech and they wanted to go to Puerto Rico . So Mark conceded and scored a job at Chili’s but Jim wasn’t into being a waiter. Food service didn’t appeal to him. He got a few interviews but no call backs, until he applied by chance for a Warehouse Worker at Dunder-Mifflin.

First off, he had no idea what Dunder-Mifflin was until he was interviewed by Toby.

“We sell paper.”

“Oh…god, so this is embarrassing because I thought you sold mufflers or something strange like mittens. That’s really bad isn’t it? With me interviewing to work here and all," Jim replied and he was relieved Toby laughed as well.

“Who or what is Dwight?”

Toby gave a weak smile.“He’s our best sales rep here. A bit enthusiastic about his job. He works with Michael.”

“Well, so I have competition with Dwight, I guess. Oh, and Michael’s the manager, right? I met him when I first walked in. He was calling the receptionist, Pamoine…as in Hermione, as in Harry-”

Toby sighed bitterly. “Potter. That's not her name, Michael makes up random names. He does alot of...random things that...you know what? Let's...I promise once we get through the interview I will give you the heads up on everyone."

Jim smiled at that. It made it seem like he had the job in the bag. "Sounds good."

“Yeah, um…I majored in journalism. Don’t know what I was thinking…” Jim laughed nervously and Toby arched an eyebrow. Jim cleared his throat, the laughter dying suddenly. “I, uh…Scranton isn’t a big mecca for journalism.”

“Have you tried to go outside Scranton? Philly? New York?”

“Looked into it," Jim struggled to even believe his own reasoning, "I was thinking about it, but um, student loans are due and you know how it is…”

Toby chuckled. “Yeah I do. Well, let me ask, can you lift at least forty five pounds repeatedly?”

Jim bit his lip. “I think I can try. I look flimsy but I’m pretty solid. I have muscle...somewhere in there. Hey don’t laugh.”

He knew what Toby was saying. He had a degree, he should try to pursue that but he couldn’t just pack up and move some unknown place with no money, no job and no friends. He wasn’t as spontaneous as that. He knew Scranton , had lived there for most his life and he knew Mark. He had a sort of on–and-off again relationship with a girl named Katy that he met at a frat party last year and he wasn’t sure where that was going. If it was going anywhere at all. A lot of his friends did leave to persue big dreams,  but Jim was more weary of the unknown.

He would wait, he would work and save and then he would try to make it out in the real world one day. One day.

The only thing that bugged him really was the teasing, the undercurrent of resentment just because he graduated college. Darryl didn’t do it so much, he seemed pretty cool. They talked sometimes, more so than Jim did with the others. Lonnie did it, and it annoyed him, but he think Lonnie just did it because he’s a jokester. The only one who stung him with the teasing was Roy . He did it since day one. Jim tried to ignore it, tried to ignore them all. Do his work, go home.

It’s just a job.

Jim’s first week there, he and Roy was breaking down a parcel and Roy started chuckling to himself as Jim struggled to lift the parcel up and take the wrap off.

“Ouch, shit!” Jim said as he dropped the parcel on his foot.

“Watch yourself there, college boy,” Roy said, amused.

Jim frowned, trying to shake off the sting. “Not you too. Lonnie’s got everyone calling me that now.”

“Let me ask you something, did you get a degree in fork lifting?”

“Not funny,” Jim replied bitterly as Roy lifted the parcel with no problem and removed the wrap.

“I’m sure a nice tender college boy like you didn’t plan on slumming it with us lowly warehouse workers, huh? You always look like you're about to break a nail.”

Jim scowled. “I don’t…What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

"Just saying, " Roy said gruffly, "Let the real men handle this."

Jim wanted to punch him in the face right then, but violence was never really his thing. Instead he shook it off, and just chose to avoid Roy at all costs. He didn’t like his implications, even if Jim didn’t like this job. He didn’t think any lesser of the guys or Madge because they worked in the warehouse. If anything, they thought lesser of him. Sure he hated the job, but he thought all of them could possibly do better, degree or not. Roy just seemed a bit irritated by Jim, like he wanted to have a pissing contest, even if he was the only one whipping it out to piss.

Rarely, Jim would join in the warehouse conversation, since he was mostly bored out of his mind. They would discuss things that weren’t personal, like sports, and he would join in occasionally because he played basketball in college. Other times, he’s retreat to a corner or out on the dock and just think about how wasted his life was. Or he would read and listen to his iPod. Bringing books to work is what had Lonnie calling him college boy. Better college boy than nerd, he guessed.  He came to work, did his job and then went home.

Jim made his way up the stairs and into office. The receptionist, Pam or Pamione, or whatever, smiled at him. She was cute. Mousy but cute. He liked that actually. Unlike Katy who was mostly make-up and lip gloss, this girl had a different charm about her. He had been up there a few times to correct orders with Kelly and he never quite got her name. She always seemed busy or Michael would come out his office, and try to talk to Jim, and he would always be driven away before he could talk to her.

He approached her counter timidly, about to ask her could he go in the back and talk to Kelly, when a shadow approached him. “Why are you up here?”

Jim smirked and tilted his head. “Good morning, Dwight. I’m here to see Kelly.”

“You can’t just walk in the office when you feel like it, you belong in the warehouse.”

Jim nodded in an exaggerated fashion, having already dealt with Dwight more than enough times. “You are so right, and it’s very true, but I must talk to Kelly. There is no time.”

“About?” Dwight glared, crossing his arms.

“See, I can’t tell you. It’s really nothing to do with business, its more of a secret government thing that I can’t tell you what its about because you don’t have the correct clearance, and honestly….you’re just a mere civilian,” Jim replied.

Jim watched Dwight’s eyebrows shoot up. It had only been a month of working here and he already knew what buttons to push. Dwight had already accosted him several times, once writing him a ticket for parking in a space that was unofficially saved for the Assistant to the Regional Manager. Jim tore up the ticket, thinking it was a joke and ever since then, Dwight’s been on a war path, citing him for different things, timing his lunch breaks out by the warehouse, things like that.

“Right, like the government would ever trust you or Kelly for that matter, with any pertinent information concerning national security. You're such a pathetic liar Jim.”

"You think I'd make up something like this to get back at you? Like I woke up this morning, hoping to overhear dastardly plans against my country?" Jim glanced at the receptionist, who was trying not to laugh at the scene. He stepped forward and whispered to Dwight, “You of all people I thought would get how serious this is.  I can’t help it that I came across a transmission about an assassination plot of an important political figure while talking to Kelly on the phone this morning. Somehow the wires crossed, or something’s going on with our phone system.”

“Our phone system?” Dwight straightened up, shocked.

“Dwight, I have to talk to Kelly. Our lives could be in danger,” Jim acted out exasperation.

“This is serious,” Dwight said, his eyes sweeping the room. “Look Jim, I can protect you. As a volunteer Lackawanna County deputy sheriff, it is my job to both protect against and serve enemies, foreign and domestic.”

“Wait, you ‘serve’ enemies foreign and domestic?” the receptionist asked quietly and Jim’s eyes flashed amusement over to her. “I thought it was ‘support and defend the Constitution against all enemies foreign and domestic’?”

“That is not…no I mean…you don’t know, Pam. You are a mere civilian. How would you know?” Dwight hissed.

“My brother is a marine…” she offered quietly but Dwight shushed her.

Jim tapped his lips with his finger. “Semper Fi.”

“Exactly,” Dwight said, a serious look on his face.

Jim wasn’t sure he could finish this without cracking up. “Wow, I feel safe already. But I mean, I’m really scared, Dwight. What if I go start my car and it like…blows up? Terrorists do that, you know. It’s in all the movies. They always plant car bombs to kill witnesses.”

“That is so true, I saw that on The Eraser on TNT last night.”

Jim nodded. “See?! I have to talk to Kelly! But I mean, we can’t alert the local authorities, you know how the CIA is, all territorial and what not.”

Dwight's pointer finger was being wagged in his face, “That is correct, Jim. It is a protocol I must respect as a local authority. Go talk to Kelly. She must be warned. And I will go check the cars. Check the phone lines…there’s no time. You might want to go into witness protection.”

“I checked into that, can’t. You saw how it worked out for Vanessa Williams in Eraser. Or how it worked out when that Amish kid had to have Harrison Ford protect him," Jim replied simply and another giggle came from reception. “So we’re on our own. Vunerable and unprotected.”

“Eff…that means I have to protect you myself!” Dwight pointed at the receptionist. “Hold all my sales calls today.”

“Are you sure, Dwight? I mean, its only national security and you really need to maintain your quota,” Pam replied without a hitch, and Jim became captivated quickly, as the receptionist was so quick to play along. “Maybe this guy did something to deserve assassination. Jim didn’t hear the whole conversation, did you?”

Jim shook his head and Dwight frowned. “Jesus Pam, don’t commit treason right here in front of me. Assassination is always serious. Especially when it’s an American. Jim, you have to watch your back! I watched that movie both times it came on, back to back. Those people are good!”

“I know Dwight. I know,” Jim said as Dwight rushed past him to the parking lot. “Make sure you do a thorough check under the cars. And remember, trust no one.”

Dwight stopped at the door and scowled. "Do I look inept to you? National security is number two on my priority list. Of course I will be more than sufficient. You concentrate on not getting yourself killed."

And then he was gone, leaving Jim and Pam laughing to themselves. He turned his attention to the cute receptionist who helped him out. “Well played. Pam? Right?”

She nodded. “Yeah, uh, Jim , I presume?”

He smiled brightly and nodded.

Maybe he was imagining the blush spreading across her cheeks as she replied, “I heard Dwight say your name. And Kelly talks about you all the time."

Jim grimaced and she laughed. "I know. Scary. You did pretty good work yourself with Dwight. Getting the best of Dwight is something I actually look forward to.”

“Thanks, I know it’s the highlight of my day.  Now I just have to correct this order form with Kelly,” Jim said holding up the order form and wagging his eyebrows. “I hope he’s down there until lunch at least.”

Pam laughed. “Okay, if not, I'm sure I can come up with something. Just don’t overhear any assassination plots on your way to the annex.”

“I’ll try not to,” Jim said, tapping his fingers on the counter and making his way back to the annex, a little bit more giddy than normal. Maybe this warehouse job wasn’t so bad after all.

After a long exhausting conversation with Kelly, Jim made his way back towards the warehouse, passing reception on the way out. Pam was typing away and he noticed once again, she was pretty cute, and obviously had a sense of humor. He smiled and cleared his throat as she looked up.

“Oh, hey!” she smiled back.

“Hi. Uh…Dwight…is he still at it?” Jim asked, pointing his thumb towards the parking lot.

Pam nodded. “Yeah, but its okay, Michael’s taking a nap, so by time he wakes up, Dwight said he’d be finished with his third sweep of all the cars.”

“Thanks for helping me out, seriously. It was really cool, actually.”

“It kept me awake,” Pam replied.

“Glad I could be of assistance,” Jim chuckled, and rocked on his heels. He didn't know why he felt nervous, like a teenager. Was she seriously having this affect on him? “You have a good day.”

“You too,” Pam replied and he walked back down to the warehouse, with a big smile plastered across his face.

Darryl was coming out of his office, as Jim made his way down the stairs. He handed him the order form. “Done.”

“Nice. Look, seriously, thanks man.”

“No problem,” Jim replied.

Darryl tapped his clipboard. “We’re heading to Poor Richard’s after work? Want to come along? Grab a beer?”

Jim  didn’t know how to respond. They had gone to Poor Richard’s before and never invited him. He chastised himself for being suspicious, obviously the guys were trying to reach out to him, make him apart of the gang. Besides he had nothing better to do than hang out with Mark and eat frozen pizza or maybe let Katy stop by for one of  her initiated booty calls, or something. Made him feel cheap after she crawls out of bed and leaves. Maybe going out with the crew wasn't so bad after all.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Sure, I can stop by.”

“Cool. We play pool too. Be prepared to get your ass kicked,” Darryl laughed as he walked away.

Jim smiled brightly, a sense of calm coming over him, walking back towards the warehouse docks. It was the first time they made him feel like he was one of them.