All offices are the same. They all have the same tableau; desks scattered, copy machines, fax machines, computers. They all have the same sounds; people on the phone, the click-click of typing, heavy sighs. They all have the same feeling; dread laced with boredom and maybe, if you're lucky, a little bit of vitriol. Jim knows he won't find his dream job in Scranton, but for the time being, this has to do. This has to be it.
He's had three job interviews in the past two weeks. Three times he's had to get dressed up, shake hands firmly, make eye contact and answer questions such as the dreaded, "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?" Not here, he thinks, but answers the question, his eyes locked with whoever sits across from him, arms folded in his or her large leather chair attempting to look intimidating. When the interviews are done, the intimidator leans across the desk and folds his hands in front of him, telling Jim that they are still narrowing down the search and will get back to him in the next week. Suuure, he elongates the word in his head. He's heard that before.
So, with this being his fourth interview and his options dwindling, he knows he has to make a good impression. He walks in the building and to the elevator. Breathe. No matter how many times he does this, he always feels the nervousness. He expects it with each interview and is grateful that it is there because this is what pushes him; it's what he needs to excel. Inhale. He switches his briefcase to his left hand and opens the door. Desks…check, copy machine…check, fax machine…check, comput…His eyes travel to the receptionist. Interesting. She is on the phone, whispering.
"Roy, you can't expect me to quit my job because you got laid off," her eyes narrow and a crease forms between her brows, a crease of annoyance. "I can't talk about this now," she says as she gestures to Jim, holding up a finger. "One second," she mouths.
Exhale. The nervousness is not going away and has moved into the pit of his stomach. She hangs up and smiles at him. "Sorry. Can I help you?"
"Yeah," he clears his throat. "I'm here for an interview with Michael Scott."
"Oh," her eyes widen. "Jim Halpert?"
"That's me," he says, flashing her a grin.
"I'll let him know you are here." She emulates his smile and picks up the phone, fingers curling around the receiver. "Michael, Jim Halpert is here for his interview." Pause. The crease comes back. "Why do I have to call you Mr. Scott?" Pause. "I always call you Michael." She forces a smile when she looks back at Jim. "Okay, Mr. Scott, Jim is here to see you." The smile fades again. She ducks her head and her voice is just above a whisper. "That is really unprofessional. Okay."
She looks back to Jim. "Well, it's going to be a minute. Sorry."
"Hey, that's alright. I'm used to waiting."
"I'm Pam by the way," she says, holding out her hand.
"Nice to meet you Pam." He grasps her hands and shakes, holding it for a second too long. The awkwardness creeps in.
She sighs and he is reminded to breathe.
"So, you're looking for a job?"
"Yup." Awkward silences, my forte, he thinks.
"Well, this is a…grea…no, a good place to work."
Jim nods and the phone rings.
"Good morning, Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam." Pause. The return of the crease. "I told you I can't talk about this now." And the whisper. "Roy, the lay-off is only temporary. Pick me up for lunch and we'll talk about it then. Yeah, I forgot to bring my lunch today." Pam glances at the clock. "Yeah, in half an hour. Okay. Bye."
Pam looks at Jim and smiles, as someone walks up to the desk and puts his hand towards Jim.
"Hi, Jim, I couldn't help but overhear that you are interviewing for a job. My name is Dwight, I'm the Assistant Manager."
Pam interrupts, "Assistant to the manager."
Dwight continues without acknowledging her comment. "I'm like Michael's sidekick. I've got his back and he's got mine, so I'll be watching you."
Jim shoots Pam a look and their eyes both widen and laugh as Dwight walks back to his desk.
The phone rings again. "This is Pam," she says, looking back at Jim. "Okay." She places the phone back down and leans closer to him. "He's ready for you. I'll show you to Michael's, I mean, Mr. Scott's office."
They walk across the large room. A blonde woman glares at them while a couple others whisper to each other. Pam opens the door and walks in, Jim right behind her. "Michael," Pam says as the dark haired man behind the desk shoots her a look, "this is Jim." She gestures to Jim, ignoring her boss' stare.
"Hi Jim. I'm Mr. Scott," he says, shaking hands with Jim, but giving Pam another look. "You can call me Michael though. We don't need to be so formal right now." Pam leaves while shaking her head. "Please, sit."
"Where to begin? Where to begin?" He starts filing through the pile of papers on his desk. "I'm so busy, I have a hard time keeping track of things sometimes. Not that I'm unorganized or anything, but it's hard being this important."
Jim's eyes widen.
"Well, just tell me about yourself, I guess," Michael says throwing his hands up, giving up on the search.
"Okay. Well, I have 2 years experience with sales, mostly chemicals, however, I'm excited for a new challenge."
"Well," Michael interrupts. "That's really great. How old are you?"
Jim's brows furrow, mimicking Pam's. Pam. Jim shakes his head, squinting his eyes at Michael before speaking. "I don't think you are allowed to ask me that."
"Oh, I'm just curious. I mean, you seem young. I don't want someone really old, I mean, I don't need someone calling in sick because they fell down and couldn't get up or something." Michael laughs hysterically, barely able to get the last part out.
"Right."
"Anyway, thanks for coming in. I'm still narrowing down the search and I'll get back to you in a week or so."
Incredulously, Jim asks, "That's it?"
"Yeah, like I said, I'm really busy. And important."
"You don't want to ask me about my goals or my experience?"
"Honestly Jim," he says leaning forward, doing the arm fold, "I have this gift. I can see when someone will work well in my company and I see it in you. You've got the job!"
Jim is exasperated, once again unable to breathe, but for an entirely different reason this time. Michael stands and Jim follows him to the door.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Michael says patting him on the back. He closes the door. Jim simply stares at the door.
Jim makes his way back to the elevator, still shocked, as he exits the building. He notices Pam sitting on the curb, looking unusually upset. He walks over and sits next to her.
"Hey."
"Hey," she says, forcing a smile. "How'd it go?"
"Good. I got the job." Jim shrugs when he notices the surprised expression on her face.
"Wow, that's great. You gonna take it?"
Another shrug.
"Hey, did he ask you if you were single?"
"No," he says, scrunching his eyes in confusion, until he realizes what she means and his eyes widen. "He didn't ask you?"
Pam smiles, shaking her head slowly. "He said he didn't need someone who would have someone hanging around and calling all the time."
The awkwardness creeps back in and Jim stares at his feet. "Are you on your lunch break?"
"Yeah. I'm just waiting." Her words hung on the last part as her gaze shifted to her feet as well. A small laugh escapes her mouth as she says, "Well, my break is almost over."
Jim nods and grabs his briefcase, pulling out a sandwich. "It's turkey. I was saving it for the ride home, but…you want half?"
She smiles and scrunches up her nose. "You sure?"
"Yeah, of course."
"I am kind of hungry."
"Hey, we are going to be co-workers. I think I can share my sandwich."
"So you're taking the job?" Pam slowly takes a bite of her half.
"Yeah."
They sit and eat their halves, Jim's head low, a smile forming on his face. Maybe not all offices are the same.