"Hey, Dwight, come listen to this song," Michael says, standing at his door.
Dwight, who is on a sales call, immediately says, "Oh- sir? Sir? Yeah, I'm going to have to call you back," and he hastily puts them phone on the receiver incorrectly. He has already jumped up from his seat though, and then has to scramble to fix it before following Michael back into his office.
Michael sighs and mutters under his breath, "Idiot."
"What song is it, Michael?" Dwight says, circling around Michael's desk to lean against the cabinet.
Pulling up iTunes Michael says, "It's called 'Everywhere That I'm Not.' It reminds me of Jan. It's totally us."
Michael mumbles along to the song incomprehensibly, "''Cause you're in New York, but I'm not… You're in Tokyo, but I'm not... You're in Nova Scotia but I'm not. Yeah, you're everywhere that I'm not.' It's exactly us, Dwight."
"How'd you find this song?" Dwight asks, curiously.
"I googled songs that have 'New York' mentioned in them. This was the first one that I found that fit."
Dwight nods like this makes sense.
"I mean, especially that line. I mean, she really is everywhere that I'm not."
"But she's not in Tokyo."
"No- God, Dwight. It's a simile."
"You mean a metaphor?"
"No, I mean a simile. You're… you're just. Stop, Dwight."
"Is Jan at least Nova Scotian?"
"What? No. She's white."
"Nova Scotians can be white. I actually think they are predominantly..."
Pam knocks on the door and enters, saying, "I need you to sign these…"
Michael furrows his brows. "Where's Nova Scotia again?"
"Uh, Canada," Pam says, shooting a look toward the cameras.
"No… Jan is not Canadian. She doesn't look Canadian at all."
"Michael, I think Canadians don't really… um, look that different from uh, Americans," Pam says uncertainly.
Dwight nods, "Yeah, I mean, Kim Cattrall is Canadian."
"Why do you know that?" Pam interjects.
"Really? Kim Cattrall?" Michael says.
"Her and Jan kind of look alike, too," Dwight says.
"I... don't know about that. Jan is much hotter."
"They're both blonde."
"Yeah. Maybe Jan's Canadian… I don't know," he sighs, considering.
"Um, Michael?" Pam asks. "These papers…?"
"Do you know anyone Canadian?" he asks her.
"My neighbor, I think."
"What color hair does she have?"
"He, uh, actually has black hair so…"
"Not the same," Dwight says matter-of-factly. "He's a male."
"Why are you…?" Pam starts. "What's this fascination with Canadians?"
"Oh, just a song," Michael says. "It's about me and Jan."
"Did you write it?" Pam asks, hinging on a hope that he says yes and that he'll read it to her.
Michael shakes his head, "No. I could have, though. I'm very musically talented, you know. I played the triangle in the school band-"
"Mhm…" Pam says, "Well, I'm just going to… leave this here. Sign them by four o'clock, okay?"
Michael shrugs as she walks out the door, then says to the cameras, "I was good, by the way. On the triangle."
"Maybe you should just call her," Dwight suggests.
"Jan?"
"Yeah."
"I… I don't know. You think so?"
"Yeah. Or find a way to get her to say 'eh.' I mean, that's always a clear tell."
Michael thinks for a moment and then decides that maybe Dwight is right, and he dials Jan's number.
"Jan Levinson," she says, answering.
"Jan? It's Michael."
"What's wrong?"
"What? Nothing," he says, confused. "Nothing's wrong. Why… why do you say that?" He looks at the cameras, pursing his lips.
"Nevermind, Michael. What do you need?"
"Are you Canadian?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Michael?"
"Yes?"
"I'm going to go now," and she hangs up.
Dwight scratches his head and says, "It was worth a shot, I guess."
"Just… just go, Dwight."
By the end of the day, Michael's made up a new song with new lyrics that he says "Are perfect concerning me and Jan." He stashes them in the same drawer as his Agent Michael Scarn screenplays where they sit, just waiting to be discovered.
