Chapter 2

Jim

They always tell you that when it finally happens to you, you’ll just know.

Well, “it happened” on my first day of my new job at Dunder Mifflin. Probably in the first minute, but it certainly became crystal clear thirty minutes later, when Pam Beesly warned me about my new coworker, Dwight Schrute.

I’d looked down into the hazel eyes of the cute receptionist and felt myself fall. Almost literally. I mean, I felt a little dizzy and light-headed, my knees went weak—the whole nine yards. Seriously, it was almost like “She’s the One” had flashed before my eyes in neon.  I know how this sounds. It’s embarrassing. And cheesy. God knows a few days before, I’d have been making fun of a buddy who admitted something like this to me, but not now. Love at first sight is a real thing, people.

After a mostly sleepless night, wherein I relived the entire day multiple times, focusing mainly on my conversations with Pam, I got up without the aid of the alarm and dragged myself tiredly into the shower. I’d been dwelling on how, toward the end of the day before, her bubbly mood had cooled. Something had upset her, and I hoped it wasn’t me.  I could only cringe thinking about that stupid Deep Throat remark, but I didn’t take her for the overly-sensitive type. No, it had to be something else. I would try to find out today.  The water and some coffee revived me, and my heart began to pound just thinking about seeing her again.

Before opening the door to the office, I took a deep, calming breath. And there she was again, dressed in similar clothes as the day before—pink striped button-up with a baby blue sweater and a modest skirt. Her curly hair was pulled back from her face like before, and her flawless skin was nearly devoid of makeup, but her cheeks grew rosy when she saw me, and her smile transformed her face from pretty to gorgeous.

My heart sputtered in my chest. Was I going into a-fib? If I felt like this every morning, how the hell was I going to survive this job? 

“Good morning,” she said brightly, her eyes sparkling.

“Hey,” I said, like an idiot. I paused at Reception, saw the Jelly Belly dispenser had been refilled, and, much like yesterday, used them as an excuse to linger in her presence.  She smelled like roses, and I breathed her in like smelling salts—I hope it wasn’t too creepy and obvious.  I barely tasted the candy I dropped in my dry mouth.

She was nodding toward Dwight Schrute’s desk, currently empty.

“Welcome to Day Two,” she teased.  I rolled my eyes.

“Gee, thanks.”

The man in question arrived, and we both watched as he performed what I would soon learn was his daily ritual: Remove overcoat. Hang it up on the coat rack. Adjust jacket and tie. Turn on pager. Go to desk without a word to Pam or me, turn on his computer and arrange his desk supplies for the day, before finally setting his row of bobble heads bobbling, then plopping heavily down into his chair.

I grinned at Pam. “Wish me luck,” I whispered. She smiled back and gave me a small salute, like I was going into battle. God, I was in big trouble with this girl.

The rest of the staff arrived, including the boss, who promptly called us all in for a staff meeting in the conference room. It was equal parts silly and boring, but meeting Pam’s eyes across the room in shared amusement made the whole thing infinitely more meaningful. The rest of the morning I spent working the leads Michael had kindly supplied me, so that by lunch time, I’d actually made my first independent sale. When I proudly told Dwight, he just shrugged and commented about not congratulating me on doing my job.

Yeah, Dwight was something else. If it wasn’t the annoying double pencil tapping ala Ringo Starr, it was the humming under his breath of Smoke on the Water (but just the most well-known riff, over and over) or the mindless side-to-side swivel in his chair, which could do with a squirt or two of WD-40. By lunchtime, I was ready to kill myself. Or him.

I got my sandwich from the breakroom fridge and sat down with my grape soda and chips from the vending machines. I was thrilled when Pam joined me with her salad.

“This seat taken?” she asked shyly.

“Sure.” I happily slid my food over to accommodate her.

Others were filtering in, but no one sat by us, though Angela from Accounting shot Pam a dirty look when she passed through with a bag of baby carrots and a cup of hot tea. Promptly at noon, Dwight had made a beeline for the front door, and we wouldn’t see him, thank God, till after lunch.

We sat awkwardly together at the little round table, until Pam suddenly said: “Is that Smoke on the Water?”

“Huh?” I said, taken aback.

She chuckled. “You were humming it.”

I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. Well, that was the last freakin’ straw.

“Something has got to be done about this,” I said ominously. 

“What? Your humming wasn’t that bad. Not my favorite song, but—”

“No, it’s Dwight. He’s been humming it all morning. I think he’s trying to drive me insane. Guess what? It’s working.”

She gave me a pitying grin. “No one is immune.”

“Maybe. But no way I’m going down without a fight.”

“Have you tried asking him to stop?”

“Yep. Several times. Politely. He either gives me an absent apology, or rolls his eyes, then simply switches to the next in his trio of annoyances. The double pen tapping. Then the squeaky chair swivel. Then back to the humming. It’s the most vicious circle, one that I’m pretty sure is in Dante’s Inferno—I’m thinking it would fit neatly between the Seventh and Eighth.”

By this time, Pam was biting her lip to keep from laughing at my sarcastic hyperbole, her eyes brimming with barely contained hilarity. Her voice dropped in hushed excitement.

“What are you planning to do now?”

I smiled evilly over a bite of sandwich. “Watch and learn, Beesly. Watch and learn.”

She tried and tried to sweet talk me or alternately cajole me into sharing my plans, but the truth was, I was still formulating my vengeance in my mind. I changed the subject, and since the ice was broken, we began chatting and laughing as if we’d known each other forever. I learned that she liked to draw, and from how shy she was about it, I was guessing she was very talented.  I asked to see some of her work, and though she politely put me off, I could tell she was pleased at my interest. We shared similar tastes in music and I promised to share my latest play list with her.

 We spoke in general terms about our families and our backgrounds—two new acquaintances getting to know each other—while I was secretly falling more and more in love with her by the minute. Her beauty wasn’t even the half of it (though I was incredibly attracted to her physically); no, it was her warmth, her quick wit, her endearing nerdiness that had me staring into her eyes and hanging on her every word. Every single thing about her fascinated me—I’m not exaggerating. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking; me too.

Lunch hour tripped by quickly, and when we paused to take a breath, we noticed everyone else had gone back to work. She glanced up at the wall clock.  “Oh my God! It’s fifteen minutes past! I’d better get back to Reception.”

I was also startled at the passage of time. “Oh, wow. Me too. Sorry I talked your ear off,” I said, though I was definitely not the least bit sorry.

She gave me a smile I felt in my gut. “Don’t be.  This was fun.”

“It was,” I said softly, allowing her to see my heart in my eyes—just for a second, before I switched back to polite co-worker mode.  I was rewarded with one of her sweet blushes before she hurried from the break room. I wasted a few more minutes, using the restroom and making myself a cup of coffee, not wanting to leave the bubble of warmth I’d felt in Pam’s presence.

When I finally made it back to my desk, Dwight pointedly glanced at his watch at my tardiness, giving a little huff of disapproval. I ignored him as best I could, and went back to my list of contacts. After another round of Dwight’s Inferno, inspiration had struck, and I wandered over to the Reception counter.

“Hey,” I said softly.  “You wouldn’t happen to have any crayons, would you?”

Her eyes widened with amused interest. “I do.”

“May I borrow them please?”

She was already digging around in a desk drawer.  She put the box of 24 Crayolas on the counter, and I palmed it before slipping it casually into my pants pocket.

“Thanks,” I said mysteriously, and took a couple jelly beans for good measure before returning to my chair.  Then, I waited.  Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Dwight rose to go to the bathroom and get his afternoon cup of coffee. Looking around to make sure everyone was occupied, I moved quickly to Dwight’s desk. I’d been surreptitiously casing it for an hour, noting that he kept his assorted pens and pencils neatly in a metal pencil cup, and I promptly grabbed them and put them in my empty front pocket. From the other, I produced the unboxed crayons, and put them in the cup. I slid open Dwight’s other drawers, grabbing every other writing implement I could find, stuffing them in my pockets.

My coconspirator in Reception suddenly gave a polite cough. I glanced up, and she was nodding almost frantically toward the breakroom door. I slid smoothly back to my chair and picked up my phone, my face blank.  Dwight set down his steaming mug and picked up his own phone. Then, the fun began. It was in the middle of a call when he reached for a pen that wasn’t there. His annoyance and panic were immediate, but he couldn’t react while he had a client on the phone.  He searched his desk in vain for anything but a crayon, but he was out of luck.

Desperately, he covered the mouthpiece of his phone and hissed: “Hey, newbie! Where are my goddamn pens?”

I pointedly ignored him, pretending to talk to a client of my own.

He lobbed a crayon at me, which I easily avoided.  “Jim!” he hissed.

I pointed to my phone and shrugged helplessly, continuing to talk nonsense to no one about card stock and paper weights.

I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Pam was removing the cup of pens that usually sat near the candy on the counter. If I hadn’t been in love before…

It was a joy to watch Dwight attempt to fill out his order form in Carnation Pink, which, by the way, was a triplicate carbon form, and I imagined a crayon was too soft to write all the way through.  He spun around in his creaky chair and asked Phyllis behind him for a pen, but she was on her own sales call and waved him away in irritation.  The cord on his phone was too short for him to beg anyone else or to search for a pen.

Finally, he hung up, and was in the process of rounding on me when his phone rang and he was immediately in the midst of another sale. He filled out two more forms in crayon that he would have to redo later, before he could put his phone down.

He turned to me in barely contained rage.

“Where. The. Hell. Are. My. Pens?” he bit out between clenched teeth.

“I don’t know,” I said innocently.  “Maybe the Deep Purple fairy stole them.”

He looked at me like I was the crazy one, ignoring my thinly veiled hint. “You’re thinking of sprites, not fairies, or, more specifically, the German Kobolds.  And what would they want with my pens? Fairies don’t steal things as a rule. Well, sometimes children, but certainly not ball point pens.”

“What about the Tooth Fairy?” I countered absurdly. “She comes in the night and takes children’s teeth.  She leaves the good little boys money. The bad little boys get coal, right?”

“That was Santa Claus, dummy. And he was technically an elf. Don’t you know anything?”

I shrugged. He’d opened his mouth, no doubt to continue my education in mythological creatures, when his phone rang again, and in complete resignation, he chose a crayon in blue-green, absently peeling the paper away around the tip for easier writing. I covered my smile, and glanced over at Pam, who was wiping away tears of mirth.

When Dwight left his desk again, I returned his pens—to his drawer.

By the end of the day, he’d found them and began rewriting his order forms. At five o’clock, he rose and did his compulsive desk straightening, then paused to address me.

“Be advised that your pen hiding scheme has already been forgotten. You caused me only a negligible amount of inconvenience.”

“What proof do you have it was me?” I asked.

“I knew upon first sight that you were a petty little man, given to passive aggressive behaviors like silly office pranks. I will from now on choose to ignore any and all attempts to get me off my considerable game, so you needn’t bother.”

Naturally, I took that as a challenge.  I made a mental note to pick up several boxes of Jell-O, just in case.

I gave him a cordial smile, however.  “And may I offer you some helpful advice?”

“Proceed,” he prompted skeptically.

“When someone asks you politely to stop annoying the crap out of them, the human thing to do would be to simply…stop.  That’s probably the best way to keep away the German Cobalts.”

“Kobolds,” he corrected snidely. “Pick up a book sometime.”

“I’ll definitely do that,” I replied.

As he sauntered importantly away, I called out a pleasant good-night, which was not returned.

“Jeeze,” I said, for Pam’s benefit. “The rudeness of some people.”

To my great delight, she nearly skipped over to my desk, leaning a hip against one corner. On their own accord, my eyes traveled down her body and my breath caught—I hoped she didn’t notice. I quickly brought my gaze up to a more appropriate level.

“That was amazing!” she said, those gorgeous hazel eyes shining into mine.  Of course, the whole show had been more for her entertainment than for my personal revenge—although that had also been fun.

“It worked out even better than I’d hoped,” I admitted proudly.  “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“That was the most fun I’ve had here since—well, ever.”

I smiled and we stared at each other a few heated moments. I imagined rolling my chair in front of her, my hands going to her tiny waist, moving up for a kiss—

She must have seen something in my expression that unsettled her, for suddenly she jumped up and muttered something about shutting out the lights in the Annex. I watched her head for the back of the office while the rest of the remaining employees walked past me, wishing me good night.  Michael came out of his office and shook my hand, congratulated me for the two new sales I’d made that day.  After a few lame jokes, he said he was heading off to his Improv class.

“See you on the flippity flip,” he said, by way of farewell.

I hung back at my desk, pretending to study the paper catalog and price list, but rose to my feet when Pam came back.  She seemed surprised to see me there, and for a moment I worried she might think I was some creepy stalker.

“Did you need to stay longer?” she asked.  “If so, make sure you turn out the lights and lock the door.”

“Oh, uh, no.  I was just heading out myself.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling knowingly. I blushed in embarrassment, but I wasn’t sorry I’d waited.

We walked to the elevator together, and as we rode down, there was an awkward silence, but it was also filled with sexual awareness that had my heart racing, my hands clutching my messenger bag in front of me. I held the door to the parking lot open for her. It was getting dark outside, and I didn’t like the idea of her walking by herself.

“Mind if I walk you to your car? It’s pretty dark out here. They really should put in some more security lights.”  I hope that put her at her ease. I gave her my most unthreatening expression.

“Sure,” she said. “That would be nice.”

I walked beside her to a little subcompact.                                

“Cute car,” I said.  “I have a Corolla myself.” We were both Toyota fans, apparently.

“Cool,” she said.

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her to go out for a drink, but I chickened out at the last minute, telling myself it was too soon. 

 
“Well, thanks for walking me to my car. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Day Three,” I said, stepping back as she opened her door and slid inside. 

She seemed almost disappointed that I hadn’t asked her out, and I was about to change my mind, but she had already started her car and the moment had sadly passed.

“Good night,” she said through her closed window.

“Night,” I replied.  I watched as she drove away, already missing her.

Tomorrow was Friday, I realized—a much more suitable night for grabbing a drink. Maybe if I summoned the courage it could lead to dinner or a movie or something.  I smiled to myself at what the “or something” could mean. Hell, I’d settle for just talking all night with her, getting to know her better. A kiss would just be a bonus, but I could wait until the time was right for both of us.  I knew instinctively that Pam Beesly was a woman worth waiting for.

Damned if I didn’t whistle Smoke on the Water on my way to my own car, but this time, I smiled when I realized it.