Jim's First Day
The door was just a door, unadorned save for a single placard labeled Dunder Mifflin. The handle was just a handle, but Jim stared at it with exaggerated dread.
He knew what his father would say, had he known his son’s thoughts. ‘Boy, I love you, but you’re as lazy as can be. Despite what you may see on TV, a man has to work for a living. Look at me: twenty-two years in a grocery store. First as a bagger and then a clerk, and now I manage three of ‘em. You think I always enjoyed it? You think I didn’t ever want more? But it was what it was, and it was what I had. I made the best of it – and I’m damn satisfied with the job I’ve done. If you want something more for yourself, then make it happen. But in the meantime, work, don’t dream.
And Jim knew deep down that his father was right – or at least mostly. Suddenly a quote sprang to his mind. The man who makes an appearance in the business world, the man who creates personal interest, is the man who gets ahead. Be liked and you will never want. A good line; he wondered where he had read it. It sounded like something from high school. He took a deep breath and seized the handle. Then he remembered. It was from ‘Death of a Salesman.’ Not a good omen.
Oh stop it, he told himself. You’re an arrogant prick sometimes, Halpert. You’ve got to pay your dues like everybody else. Now just turn the damn knob and get to work!
And he did.
The walls were just as bland and white as he remembered them, but when he saw the girl behind the desk he felt a momentary gleam of pleasure. He had forgotten about the receptionist. In reality she was plainer than the other receptionists at the other companies he had interviewed with(thin, perky and blonde, most of them) but he remembered that this one actually made something of an impression. She had joked with him after his interview, and he remembered thinking that her smile was very catching. And she likes to…what was it? Draw, that was it! He wasn’t sure why he remembered it, but as he approached her desk he felt a bit of relief that he already had at least one pleasant memory to associate with the place.
She looked up as he approached. He smiled warmly at her; she returned it, but he could tell she didn’t remember him.
“Hi, can I help you?” she said softly.
He didn’t know how it came to him, or why he said it so impulsively. But before he could think he blurted: “what, don’t want the boss to come out of his office?”
She stared at him for a moment in shock. “How…how did you know?”
How did I, I wonder? “Oh, you just spoke so softly, I figured it was because you didn’t want Mr. Scott to know I was here. Or to come out and bother you, maybe.” Inwardly he winced. Will she think I’m insulting her boss? Why the hell are you blabbering?
“Well, he’s actually working today, but he usually goes berserk for a visitor. I’m trying to see if I can get to lunch without him saying something awkward. It’s been nice and quiet so far.” Abruptly she paused, horrified. “Oh my God, I didn’t mean – ”
Jim laughed. “No, don’t worry, you’re secret is safe with me. You probably don’t remember me. I’m Jim Halpert. I interviewed here a week ago?”
Recognition came into her eyes. “Oh right. Hi Jim, I’m Pam Beesly. You probably don’t remember me either.”
“No, I remember you,” he responded quickly. For some reason it felt important to assure her. “You like to draw, you told me.”
She blinked, then nodded, impressed. “Wow, you have a good memory.”
“Well, it’s not every day you meet such a multi-talented receptionist. I mean, art and answering phones? Save some talent for the rest of us, Miss Beesly.” Am I flirting? Seriously?
She laughed, blushing. “That’s a really nice thing to say,” she said, in a tone that said it didn’t happen often. “So you’re working here then? I’m glad.”
Jim felt an unexpected flush of pleasure. “Well, thanks.”
She stood up, beckoning. “Well, come on, I’ll show you to your desk, and then tell Michael. But first,” she lowered her voice again to a conspiratorial whisper. “I have to tell you something. Enjoy this moment, because you’ll never go back to this time before you met your deskmate, Dwight.”
Jim looked at her, confused. He didn’t know what he had been expecting her to say, but not that. “Um, okay?”
She smiled knowingly at him. He found himself mesmerized by it. “You don’t understand now, but trust me, you will. Follow me.”
So he followed her, anticipating a long walk through a maze of desks. But they had not gone five feet before she gestured grandly at the chair and desk just outside the manager’s office. “Here it is.”
Jim looked at it for a moment. What a sad sight, he thought, but the thought fled as soon as a joke came to mind. “Wow, that was a long trip.”
She chuckled. “It was phase one of your initiation.”
He grinned. “I’m intrigued, I have to admit it. What’s phase two?”
“Tell him, Dwight.”
The man sitting next to him looked up. He wore a mustard-yellow shirt, a brown tie, and thick, oversized glasses. “Pam, you know as well as I that he cannot pass onto Phase Two before he has completed Phase One. Simply walking to his desk is not Phase One.” He snorted indignantly. “A two-year old could do as much.”
For a moment Jim thought he was kidding, until he realized the man’s glare of contempt was most definitely not changing into something else. He glanced nervously at Pam, but she had already gone to the manager’s door and knocked. He turned back to Dwight. “So…what’s phase one?”
Dwight sat up straighter, assumed a lecturing air. “Phase One is a series of escalating pranks, known colloquially as ‘hazing,’ which will test your ability to handle adverse conditions. Michael also insists that it is a vital check on the candidate’s ‘sense of humor.’ You will find that Michael has developed several ingenious variations on the standard manual.”
“Wait – there’s a manual?” Is this guy for real?
Dwight paused. “It’s unwritten, but sacrosanct.
Suddenly Jim fell forward on his desk. He looped up in alarm. It was Michael Scott, who had seized both of Jim’s shoulders and pushed him down. “Rookie!” he cried. “Everyone, haze the rookie!”
No one responded, or even looked up, save Dwight who sprang up, laughing hysterically. “Haze the rookie!” And the two promptly gave him a noogie.
When they let him up again, Jim irritably patted down his hair. Michael and Dwight exchanged high-fives. “Welcome, rookie, to Dunder Mifflin! Your journey into the world of paper will now begin!”
“It is unavoidable. It is your destiny,” added Dwight ominously.
“Come, new salesman, and follow me as I introduce you to the rest of my team. All-stars on paper, I assure you.”
“But Michael,” Dwight protested, “we have yet to begin Phase One of the initiation!”
“That wasn’t it?” asked Jim hopefully.
“Phase – what?” said Michael, perplexed. “You know what, Dwight? Not now. I need to take the rook on a tour! Follow me!”
He proceeded to lead Jim around the office. “Here is Phyllis Lapin, one of our sales associates,” he said, and a large, curly-haired woman smiled shyly at him. Jim was certain that a moment ago she had been knitting or crocheting or something. “Don’t be fooled, she’s actually much younger than she looks! And here is Stanley Hudson, also in sales. Stanley is our font – sorry, fawn – of bluesy wisdom here in the Office. If they ever make a movie about us, he’ll be played by Morgan Freeman, trust me.”
Stanley did not deign to reply, nor even acknowledge their presence. He merely went on with his crossword. Does work even get done here?
The rest was a barrage of names Jim knew he wouldn’t remember, not at first. There were four accountants: a blond woman who stared at him in disapproval, eerily similar to Dwight; a Hispanic man who shook his hand with a quiet “hello;” a very large fellow who looked like he was trying to guard a jar of M&M’s; and someone named Tom who was rubbing his temples and looked at Jim as if he were just another integer to plug into the equation.
Against the far wall were two men who did something called Quality Assurance. The man named Devin shook hands but did not smile; an older man merely stared blankly at them both, as if in a trance. Nearby was a woman with flaming red hair; she eyed Jim hungrily but seemed normal enough, until she offered him a drink. Jim declined, resisting the urge to look at his watch.
Michael showed him the kitchen and the bathrooms, and then took him through another door into a room he called “the Annex,” in a hushed tone. “This is where the evil ghost of Dunder Mifflin resides,” he said, gesturing at Toby. Toby greeted him pleasantly and the two shook hands, while Michael bounced upon the balls of his feet with obvious impatience. Jim thought that Michael was right about one thing: Toby was certainly as white as a ghost, but he was fairly friendly and Jim remembered liking him during the interview, during the few moments he had actually gotten a word in. As they walked away Michael muttered: “I swear, I need to call that fat woman from the Poltergeist. She could tell us a thing or two about him. Blecch!”
When they returned to his desk, he had to listen to Michael and Dwight joke around for the next 20 minutes about things that mostly weren’t funny. Well, Michael joked, and Dwight just laughed. A sycophant if I’ve ever seen one, Jim thought.
Finally Dwight said: “we have to haze him now, right Michael?”
Michael flashed a mischievous grin. “That’s right. What should we do, young Jim? Young James. Ah! James, that’s it! James, as my chauffer –” he fumbled over the word but got it right this time, to his obvious pride – “I will give you a list of obscure places around Scranton. You are to drive to these places, and procure the items on the list. You will take my car – a Sebring, you know – and take it to the car wash on your way back.”
Jim gaped at him. He cannot be serious. He looked around the office, hoping someone would come to his aid, but each man and woman were hunched over and silent, as if each were praying that by remaining as still and quiet as they could, Michael wouldn’t notice them and inflict similar torment.
Or, perhaps, they were so used to Michael’s manner that they no longer noticed it. Jim had not missed the deadness in their eyes when he met them, nor the disinterest in their voices. Most had all but ignored him, as they seemed to ignore each other, and definitely ignored their boss. Jim’s heart sank with the realization. This is what I’ll become, if I work here. Bored, bitter, frustrated, numb…without a single spark of life in me from 9 to 5. I wonder what they do when they all go home at night. Just sit on the couch and try to decompress, probably.
Then he glanced at the receptionist.
Pam was watching the scene with obvious bemusement. Jim had seen the boredom in her too, but now he could help but notice the warmth in her expression. As he caught her eye, the two shared a brief but sympathetic glance. And Jim knew in that instant that amid this corporate jungle of dreariness, he was not alone.
He stood straighter, enough to look down on Michael. “Mr. Scott, I’m sorry but I’m not going to do that. I’m here to sell paper, not run your errands.”
The smile on Michael’s face faded. For a moment Jim wondered if he would be fired, but the man looked more uncomfortable than angry. “Er – right. You’re right Jim. Hear that everybody! Jim’s already caught on. We’re a paper company, so let’s sell some paper!” He patted Jim on the shoulder. “Well, get settled in. We’ll get someone to show you how to log in and all that, and in an hour you’ll watch your orientation video.”
He retreated back into his office. Jim looked over at Pam, hoping to see her smile again, but her head was already down, her face already succumbing to boredom. Well, what were you hoping? That standing up to your boss would impress her? Get a life, Halpert.
Still, he could not let it go, and half an hour later when Toby had given him his login information and he had figured out the IM, Pam received a message on her screen.
JIM_HALPERT: you just had to bring up Phase One, didn’t you? ;)
And she giggled.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I do not own the Office. NBC does. Nor do I own "Death of a Salesman." That belongs to Arthur Miller. Finally, "The Poltergeist" is not mine either.
Chapter End Notes:
Next up: Jim's first day continues, with some major milestones. His first sales call, his first prank on dwight, and his first desire to seriously impress the receptionist.
