This is my first fanfic so please bear with me. I don't own any of these characters! I expect this particular story has been told before, so I'm doing it my own way. Told from Jim's point of view.
What a dull building. And a dull parking lot. Then again, I won't be here long. Just a stop on my 6 year plan. I hardly think that this could turn out to be anything but a tool for my résumé. I regrettably pull myself out of my car, and start towards the glass doors of the Scranton business center. Immediately after opening the door, I hear shouts of my name.
"Jim! JIM! Are you Jim Halpert?" I look around to see a short guy (well everything seems rather short to me) excitedly bouncing towards me.
"Yeah, that's me." I half-smile, more bewildered than anything else.
"I'm Michael Scott! Call me Michael! Welcome to Dunder-Mifflin! I'm the regional manager here, but more than that—a friend you can confide in for the rest of your life! Let's go upstairs, shall we?" Michael wasn't really waiting for an answer, so I just nodded and followed him awkwardly. We go up the elevator together, and he spends most of his time babbling about all the other workers. I attempt to listen, and even make conversation back, but geez. . . he's talking really fast. I tell myself mentally to snap out of it, that you need to impress your boss, and not be so unsocial. All my determined vigor from before, has seemed to have melted right off once I met Michael.
Before I can get more than just a 'mmmhhmm' in, we are out of the elevator and walking down a hallway. And there it is. A glass door with the rectangular emblem of 'DUNDER-MIFFLIN' on it. Michael pushes it open and holds it wide for me, I murmur a thanks under my breath before going in. Before me is my nightmare. A office. Rickety chairs and beaten-up desks. A copier in the corner, and a neighbor for each person. If you reached out a lanky arm, you could probably smack them; you were THAT close. Thank god there were no cubicles, but a layout of mediocrity just the same. I scan it quickly, before being jolted out of my misery by Michael.
"This is Pammy-Pam-Pam!" He pauses to laugh at his joke. "No, just call her Pam. She's the secretary, SEE?" He points to a poop-colored name plate but I'm too busy looking at Pam to inwardly-scoff at the whole scene.
Her hair is in a slick backed ponytail, and she looks really tired. Her hands are frozen over a black keyboard, because she's watching me just the same. She's giving me a smile, at the same time warily watching Michael. Even in this obvious state of tiredness, she gives off a smart aura and a cheery look glittering in her eye. My first thought is I want to get to know her. I open my mouth to greet her, when Michael intervenes. Again.
"There's time to stare later, we need to introduce you to more people!" He says, causing me to blush slightly. And then he's off again, marching through the office and right through a door to a small kitchen area. I slowly start to walk after him, when I hear a soft voice behind me.
"Get out when you still can." It's Pam, and there's a good-natured smirk resting on her light-pink lips. I swear I can see laughter glittering in her eyes as well. Then again, after just meeting the boss I am tempted to believe her and run for my life. She's holding me back though, with the expectant smile still on her lips; I feel the need to say something just as smart back. Except my tongue is tied for ONCE in my schmoozing life.
"Are you kidding me? I live to be in this working situation." I gesture to the kitchen area. Michael is in it-peering through the blinds with two straws stuck up his nose. He's grinning very maniacally right at me. The entrancing sound of Pam's laugh draws my eyes away from the sight of my boss though. She grins at me, shaking her head in mock pity. I look at her moving hands, which have clasped around a small plastic container of yogurt. There's a flash of silver on one of her fingers, but once again Michael steals my attention before I can get a better look.
He's is pacing back to me. "Come on giant, I'll show you your desk." He tugs on my sleeve, like a really annoying child. I follow him just as obediently, and he wildly gestures to a empty desk with a dusty computer monitor on top of it. Plus a black keyboard, just like Pam's. I plop the ratty-old briefcase of supplies (that I forgot I was holding) onto it and take a seat. The chair squeaks it's unhappiness. Just like that, Michael is gone. I take the moment of peace to survey my near surroundings. A similar to before nameplate announces that a 'Dwight Schrute' sits next to me. His screen-saver is a picture of a beet plant. Ohhhkaay. . .
I lazily look around, my skin still tingling with the 'excitement' of introductions. Or maybe just the excitement of one. Even though I haven't met more than two people. My gaze lands directly on Pam. She's still sitting in her booth, and is focused intently on something I can't see. A light brown strand of hair has fallen from her pony tail. It's resting just before her ear, teasing me really. Who wouldn't want to brush it back? I stare at her for a good few minutes; studying her lips, eyes, hair. At one point she looked up and smiled at me, but I looked away ever-so-smoothly. I'm interrupted by the arrival of my seat buddy. Dwight. He looks at me from behind his thick-rimmed glasses with disdain.
"Don't even try to get close to Michael. Don't try to succeed. Better yet, don't try at all. I'm the best here and I always will be. Oh, and welcome to Dunder-Mifflin." He sneers at me, and I crease my eyebrows together. He seems utterly serious. With my eyebrows still furrowed, I look away at the next thing I can find. Coincidentally it's Pam. She shrugs at me, another one of those wary smiles I've seen so many times this morning. I mouth 'is he serious?'. Her head bobs back and forth once, and I can't help but scoffing out loud. Although, I'm not really upset. Dwight's just a tool, which I can deal with. My face relaxes and I steal another glance up at Pam. She's taking a lot of my attention this morning, but I couldn't care less. Her own gaze has gone back to typing, and her eyes are flickering over the screen. Her lips parted so slightly you can barely tell, and I can't help but watch her a little longer. I don't think Dunder-Mifflin will be that bad.