Surplus Circus

"Should I throw this away?" Erin was cleaning out Michael's desk. Michael, meanwhile, was lying on the floor of his office, rubbing his eyes and barely looking at each item she displayed.

"What is it? His words were crammed into one rather quiet syllable.

"It just says 'One Day Only.'"

"Flip it over."

She glanced at it and offered him a summary: "It has a lot of really small font. Something about clients getting good deals on extra paper. It's a few years old, so it probably expired, right? I mean, I wasn't even working here when..."

"Put it in my 'Good Idea' folder." Said Michael, sitting up.

"That's a horrible idea." Said Oscar, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"No, no, no." Michael was adamant, "This is a positive environment and all the ideas we have in this room are good ones."

"I liked it..." began Andy.

Ryan slowly raised his hand as an argument unfolded behind him. The room silenced as Michael called on him.

"Temp."

Ryan shrugged at this and stated, "Why don't we just contact clients that purchased under their quota, and sell them the surplus at a discounted rate...?"

"Whoa, Business school terms!" Smiled Michael, "Simplify that for Pam, please. Because she's the receptionist and I don't expect her to know the…"

"Michael!" exclaimed Pam.

"...But that is a great job for the modern woman to have if..."

Ryan saved the staff from Michael's next offensive comment by deciding to simplify anyway. He stood:

"We sell our extra paper cheaper to people who forgot to order it."

"That sounds nice." Said Phyllis, "It's kind of formal and makes us look friendly, too."

"Smart kid." Declared Creed.

"No." Michael tossed his arms, "Worst idea ever. I can't even pretend to be happy about that, because it means we lose money. And apparently Ryan missed that in 'Business school', but losing money is bad."

Kevin nodded, causing Oscar and Angela to roll their eyes together.

"Here's how it's gonna go," began Michael, scribbling on his display board, "'The Dunder-Mifflin Surplus Circus'. We use the extra palettes of paper to build the bleachers, then all of you can come up with an act. Don't worry, you still get your commissions based on how many..."

"That's a safety hazard, Michael... the palettes…" Toby scratched his head, debating whether or not he should've even mentioned it.

"You are a safety hazard. Because you make me wanna jump off the roof every day and kill myself."

While Kelly gasped, Dwight's eyes darted up from his notepad:

"You did that once as a demonstration. That wasn't a great example to give, because you didn't die..."

"He walked down the stairs!" Meredith called.

"Was that the day with the bouncy-castle?" Kelly started, "Because I think that's when we..."

Michael waved his hands to cut them off.

"No it was... no. Surplus Circus. We charge admission to clients, which is where we profit. Then we have games and entertainment, which we build with palettes," here, he glared at Toby, "and they win boxes of cream printer-glossy. Because that's what we have the most of left."

"Cream printer-glossy is hideous and impractical." Said Dwight, "I refuse to sell it."

"That's why we have extra." Jim added, offhand.

"Positive environment!" Michael tore the top page from the display board, "What events would you like to run at Surplus Circus?" He prepared to take notes.

"That sounds like Circus Circus!" Kelly discovered. Michael threw down his marker.

Michael's hands tugged at his hair while he groaned.

"Kelly, that's the point. Kelly... oh my god. It is sad and pathetic… All of you live under a roach."

"Rock." Added Jim habitually.

"Dwight?" Michael pleaded.

"The phrase is 'under a rock'. It implies that you can't see or keep up with…"

"No, not that. How do we get rid of the paper?"

"You're asking me and not Jim?" Dwight smiled and stared across the aisle at Jim.

"You're asking a question everyone in the room knows the answer to?" Jim muttered.

"Quiet, you." Dwight turned attentively back to Michael, his usually-unreadable eyes glossing with guilt, "The temp has a marketable idea."

Angela looked disappointedly at Dwight. Andy watched her, trying to pinpoint what he had done wrong. Kelly nudged Andy and tried to read his expression. Eventually, everyone in the room was focusing on someone other than Michael.

"Come on!" Exclaimed Michael, backing away, "I printed the tickets already! Here's a little preview, and the rest are in boxes in my office."

The sales team, even Stanley, looked at the tickets Michael produced from his coat pocket.

"Do you see what those are printed on?" Stanley sounded vain.

Andy, nervously restraining his anger, folded his arms and closed both eyes, exhaling loudly.

Phyllis and Jim were studying the floor, internally counting the commissions they'd just lost with Michael's latest scheme.

Still, Michael didn't quite understand.

"How many tickets did you print?" Andy asked, resetting his eyes.

Michael shrugged his shoulders.

It was a rare occurrence; Dwight was the first to leave the room. He was followed, of course, by everyone else in a tight cluster.

"You printed the tickets on our 'surplus'." Jim explained, patting Michael's arm.

Michael bit his bottom lip and tried to smile, but wasn't successful.

"Cream printer-glossy?"

Jim nodded and left Michael alone.