I would like to point out just a couple things.
One: this is set in Season 3 universe, but i will not copy all those episodes. That would be boring, would require a ton of work, it's kind of limiting, and to me, would kinda defeat the purpose of FanFICTION.
Two: Pam's whereabouts will be explained as the fic goes on. Actually, it's probably explained in the summary, which i haven't written yet. But anyway!
Three: I, obviously, don't own The Office. All i own are the words written from here on out, and the character Emily Rockwell.
And Four: In Interview Mode, it may look a little confusing at first. Emily's words will be written like this or this, Emily's actions will be written like (this), and the camera man's words or actions will be written like this: words and (actions)
That is all!
Enjoy. :)
FIRST INTERVIEW.
Why did I pick Dunder-Mifflin? Hm. Why else? Less gas money, looks boring enough, I've got nothing else goin' for me.(shrugs) I saw the flier and went for it.
(Shrugs again and scoffs) Plus, getting in wasn't too hard.
All you gotta do is laugh at all of Michael's jokes, be observant, compliment him, and BAM! (claps dramatically for emphasis and grins) I'm in.
Emily seriously thought it would be that simple.
Well, she hadn't even been told what to do yet, but if these cameras were any indication, this was going to be an interesting day.
(Snaps out of thoughts) Sorry, what was the question?
Your job interview?
(Nervous laugh) Oh, right. The interview? It was alright. Kind of weird though.
(Pauses, as if unsure whether or not to say what she was thinking) He met me at Starbucks. On a Saturday, last Saturday...
(Grins while thinking back) He acted almost like...uh, a secret agent. Yeah! Like he was a secret agent and I was his apprentice or something.
(Nods slowly, tone turns thoughtful) It was....odd. (Face turns serious) You'd tell me if there was something clinically wrong with him, right? Like.. (Points to side of head) Y'know, up here?
Oh, absolutely. ...You didn't read the whole contract, right?
(Suspicious) Just that I wasn't allowed to watch any footage concerning me, I kinda skimmed it...
Oh, good! Then yeah, we'd...definitely tell you..
(Awkward and skeptical stare at camera crew)
Once done with that first interview, she was set free, a camera man trailing behind her. Emily hadn't taken three steps out of the room when Michael Scott, her new boss, glanced around frantically before noticing her.
A huge grin appeared on his face, and he made a beeline for her. Literally, a beeline- Does he always zigzag when he walks?
"There she is!" He swung his arm, wrapping it around her shoulders, and turned her to face her new co-workers.
"Good morning, everyone! As you know, our receptionist desk is currently empty. This is Emily, who's here to fill it! Although.." He interrupted himself to take a step back from her and turn her towards him.
What with both his hands on her shoulders, it looked like he was sizing her up. "Although she's a bit too tiny to fill it up, I guess. Gee, I think you might need someone to help you reach the top shelf of the fridge!" He, of course, thought that was just hilarious, and started laughing.
Emily, on the other hand, just blinked. Okay, maybe he WAS sizing me up. Literally..
"If you could loosen your grip just a tad, that would be just awesome."
He laughed again and let go, making her stumble a little from the sudden pressure change. "Ha! Witty, I like it! Well, Em, I'll let you get on with your work."
With that, he went about his business. Emily sighed and went to answer the phone, which had just started chiming.
OFF-CAMERA: So, how long did it take the last receptionist to go bankrupt from having to constantly get coffee to stay sane around here?
"Dunder Mifflin, this is Emily, how can I help you?" She said in a flawless My-Job-Is-Awesome tone.
"Please hold."
She hesitated before finally finding the right button to make the call go through to the right desk.
Maybe this wouldn't be too bad..
FOUR HOURS LATER...
"Dunder Mifflin. This is Emily. What's up?" She asked dully.
"Please hold."
She hit the button to the stupid desk with much more force than necessary. She heard someone snicker and glanced up.
Everyone was working.
Emily shook her head. "Day's not even over, and I'm already hearing things..."
She was kind of worried on how well she was doing this, even though people say it's the easiest job one could get in an office.
Luckily, she knew she was doing fine with Michael's calls, since the former receptionist left a note about it. "Try not to put Michael on right away, think of it as a practice run; he always does better the second time."
Which, from what she had seen of Mr. Scott, was easily believable. There was a long pause between calls, and Emily had just started to sort the mail when she became aware of a presence near her desk.
Thinking it was most likely a cameraman, she merely glanced up. Then she did a double-take. Some dude with dorky glasses was...scrutinizing her.
Emily returned the scrutinizing look. "Can I help you?"
He slid a couple folders across the counter. "Do you know how to properly use a fax machine?" He asked, in a tone that made it seem like faxing was THE hardest thing to master.
Emily took the files and pushed off from the desk, sliding her wheelie-chair across to the faxer. She pressed the buttons, checked the address, and pressed the "Enter" button.
As it started whirring, she wheeled back over to her desk and handed the folders back to him, smiling brightly. "I'm pretty sure I do. Anything else?"
He took the folders, then cleared his throat. "Can you gut a Branta canadensis?" He inquired.
Emily blinked at him, thinking back on previous science lectures to figure out what he was talking about. "...Come again?"
"Can you gut a Branta canadensis?" He repeated. He then leaned a little closer, peering down at her. "....Canadian goose, pipsqueak. Can you gut one?"
Emily glared at him. "I dunno. I could probably gut you, though. Easily."
He simply held out a hand professionally. "Likewise. I'm Schrute. Dwight Schrute."
She hesitantly shook it. "Emily."
He continued to shake her hand. "Would you mind stating your full name, for the record?"
What the hell? WHAT record?!
She just did as the creepy man said. "Umm..okay. Emily Rockwell?"
"By full name, that would also imply your middle name," Dwight said before scoffing. "Amateur."
Emily glared at him. "I don't have a middle name."
He scoffed again. "Everyone has a middle name!"
"Except Emily Rockwell. Which would be me."
He gave her a suspicious look. "May I see your ID, Alleged Emily Rockwell?"
Emily rolled her eyes and ducked under the desk.
"You won't be able to hide from security!" Dwight called out from above the desk, and she heard the distinct sound of silence as all keyboards stopped clacking.
Emily let out an extremely loud and irritated-sounding sigh as she slid back into her chair, waving her bag in his face. "I was grabbing my bag, Dwight!"
Most of their co-workers went back to their work as she rifled through her things. Dwight watched her like a hawk.
"Is that also where you stash your weaponry, Alleged Emily Rockwell?"
She nodded, rolling her eyed again. "Oh, yes. My compact lightsaber is stashed right next to my liquid nitrogen eyeliner and laser lip-gloss."
Dwight scoffed in disbelief. "No Jedi would openly admit the location of their lightsaber."
Emily continued to look for her wallet, which was most likely on the bottom. "Who said I was a Jedi? I stole the lightsaber to add to my armory, since I'm just that much of a lethal rebel."
"You know, Dwight, she might be a secret agent. I'd save yourself while you still can," another voice said from the front of her desk.
She glanced up at the tall guy, then finally felt her wallet by her pinky finger.
Emily swore that Dwight jumped just a little as she quickly whipped out her wallet.
Emily flicked her wrist expertly, making the flap of the wallet unfold rather gracefully to show her ID, which clearly read "Rockwell, Emily" on it.
"Hmm...I guess I will cross-examine you further at a later date," Dwight said carefully as he read the name.
He then blinked at her. "This must be fake. There's no way you're 24."
Emily narrowed her eyes. "And why do you say that, Schrute?"
The tall guy made a clicking noise with his tongue. "Careful how you answer this one, Dwight. Women don't like their age revealed. I'm sure it's doubly bad if you reveal a spy's age."
"You look nineteen, twenty at most," Dwight said with absolutely no inflection, ignoring the other dude.
Emily folded her arms on the desk, giving him a threatening look. "Actually, I am 24. I'm sorry, but you've revealed too much, Dwight. I might have to silence you somehow."
"You wouldn't. Not with all these witnesses," he announced, unconcerned.
She reached into her bag suggestively, clicking a pen. Dwight jumped and held up his hands. "I won't tell a soul, Rockwell, I swear."
She set down her bag and narrowed her eyes. "If you do, I'll find you, Schrute. It's safer to assume I already know where you live, thanks to the Homeowner's Database."
He took his folders and went back to his desk.
Emily waited until he started typing again to grin, and tall guy let out a low whistle. "Impressive. The last girl who wanted this job quit after three minutes of being questioned by Dwight."
She shrugged. "I guess she didn't know how to have fun with it."
He held out a hand. "I'm Jim, by the way. Fellow 24-year-old."
She smiled and shook it. "Well, I guess you know I'm Emily Rockwell."
"Nice to meet you."
"Likewise. So..does he do that every day?" She asked, lowering her voice as Dwight glanced at them.
Jim lowered his voice as well. "Sadly, yes. In fact, I'd bet twenty bucks he runs a background check on you right after work."
Emily scoffed. "Yeah, but I bet he won't get anything."
He cocked an eyebrow. "You don't know Dwight."
She smirked. "Care to make it interesting? Twenty bucks says he can't find out one of my darkest facts."
"Which would be?"
Emily glanced around, then leaned up to whisper it in his ear, causing a camera guy to zoom in. He nodded his approval. "Interesting. I never would've guessed that...You're on!"
They slapped hands and grinned, then he handed her some files. "Oh, and I need these faxed to Corporate."
Emily shrugged and pushed off towards the fax machine again. "No problem."
What do I think of Dwight? I think... (leans toward camera and lowers voice) He's never gonna see this, right?
Not legally..
Oh, good! Well then, quite honestly, I think he has a severe case of paranoia. Or something like that... (Gasps excitedly, eyes widen) You know, he could be a schizo!
What about Jim?
(Shrugs) He's alright, I guess. Better than Dwight, that's for sure...And tomorrow, he's paying me twenty bucks, so that's even better!
But what if Dwight finds out this...'dark fact' about you??
(Laughs) You guys heard all of that? Eh, why am I surprised? Anyway, there's no way. My name was different and everything then!
But...what if he DOES?
(Stares off into distance, then widens eyes) You don't think he'll shout it out, do you?
(Cameraman laughs) Ms. Rockwell, have you ever even SEEN this show??
(Slowly shakes head) Some of my friends have, but I keep missing it 'cause of my old work schedule and stuff, sooo...
(Clears throat) Oh. Well, then....yeah, it's very possible.
(Sighs rather loudly, then shakes head) Crap. In that case, I might have to actually kill him.