Summary: There's a seminar in the Dunder-Mifflin office about the dangers of using drugs. And surprise, surprise, not much is learned.
Drug Awareness
"Today we are having a seminar on drug safety. Or drug awareness—wait. Maybe it should be unawareness? I don't know. Anyways, we are having a seminar on drugs and why they are bad in the workplace," Michael paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "I mean always. Why they are bad always, in every way, shape, and form. Unless they are prescribed for disorders. Or women's problems. Anyways, corporate has asked me to give my loyal devotees a little talk on the dangers of puffing the magic dragon." He mimicked smoking a joint. "I bet you guys didn't know that song isn't really about that little boy and his dragon. It's about drugs." He nodded his head seriously before leaving the conference room.
"Minions, minions, my loyal little minions," he said upon entering the main office, "Everybody out there listen up. Today we are having a little talk about the dangers of doing drugs. So I want to see everyone, especially you Stanley, in the conference room in five minutes." Stanley shook his head and rolled his eyes, continuing to look over his consumer reports.
Ten minutes later, everyone was assembled in the conference room, their chairs in a circle. Michael stood, cleared his throat, and glanced down at his note cards.
"Paper," he began thoughtfully, "Paper is what we sell here at Dunder-Mifflin. It is our provider, and we love it tenderly and gently, like we love woman. Or men, for you ladies, whatever. But what some of you might not know, is that paper can be used to wrap drugs in, and then smoke."
Jim raised his eyebrows, and nudged Pam, a small smile playing on his lips.
"So," Michael continued, "Today we are going to talk about the dangers of using drugs and—"
"Michael," Dwight said suddenly, jumping up from his seat, "As Assistant Regional Manager--"
"To the," Michael interjected.
"--and as Deputy Sheriff, I would also like to share how to recognize if any of your colleagues are using any illegal paraphernalia."
"Actually, Dwight, that's already part of my presentation," Michael said as he wrote something on his note cards.
"Yeah but I want to do it."
"Well—too bad. Just…just sit down. Ahem. As I was saying, today we will discuss the dangers of using drugs, as well as how to recognize if any of your colleagues are using any…illegal paraphernalia," he glanced significantly at Dwight. "So, when corporate told me to do this, they sent down a bunch of brochures and…crap. I threw it out, because you know what? All that stuff is just shiny paper. When talking about such serious subjects, we need to get real. How can we relate drugs to our own personal lives? Or um…rather how can we relate the dangers of doing drugs to our own personal lives?" He paused and squinted at them, nodding his head slowly. "I thought for a long time about what we could do, to get real, and just…open up. I thought we'd share any experiences we might have had where we were under the influence. Of drugs," he added, incase anyone was confused.
No one spoke up. They all stared at each other in disbelief.
"Uh Michael," Phyllis began hesitantly, "I don't think you can really ask us to share that." Michael scoffed at her, and jumped to his feet.
"C'mon people. Just…this is a safe place, okay? No one's going to judge you. This is for us to get to know each other a little better. So who wants to go first?"
To everyone's surprise, Angela raised her hand, "I will," she said. Pam held a hand to her mouth, snickering quietly. Angela glared at her before continuing.
"For your information, I have never done any kind of drugs. That's my experience," she nodded her head matter-of-factly.
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"It's true. I have never done drugs. As a teenager, I avoided certain social situations. While everyone else was at parties, I would go to bible study. And really, in the end, I benefited the most. I won't be going to Hell."
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"What? No, people, you are missing the point! Not doing any drugs is not an experience. That's just…whatever. Anyways—"
"Michael," Dwight said, "Maybe this would be a good time for me to share the signs that someone is under the influence."
"Shut it—no! Okay. Let's take a five minute break and then we will recon—we will meet back here. Alright?" Michael was the only one to get up and leave.
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In his office, Michael was sitting at his desk, perched on the edge of his chair. He was reading something on the computer screen, and glanced up when he saw the camera crew enter.
"So I'm looking online for the agency that represents…uh an entertainer that might help us with this matter—ah ha! Here it is." He dialed the number and drummed his fingers on his desk, waiting for someone to answer.
"Yes, hello! Uh, I am holding a seminar for my employees on drugs—that is the seminar is on drugs, not them. At least I don't think. Anyways, I was wondering how much it would cost to have Snoop Dogg come and talk to them…Yes I'm serious…hello? Hello?" He hung up the phone and sighed, "Well apparently he's busy so…plan B."
He entered the conference room, clapping his hands loudly, "Alright everyone, listen up. I have decided that Dwight will now tell you all how to recognize if someone is hmm…lighting up a mary jane. Or you know, doing other drugs too."
Dwight leapt up from his chair and saluted Michael, "How to tell if someone is using illegal paraphernalia," he began, "Lesson one: physical signs. Bloodshot eyes. This means their eyes will appear bloodshot. Any questions? Okay. Next, dramatic weight loss or gain. They might appear to be skinnier, or fatter. Poor hygiene. They might smell. Missing work," he paused and eyed Oscar suspiciously, "And finally, slurred speech. That might mean they are currently under the influence. If that is the case, check their eyes. Are they bloodshot? Have they gained or lost any weight? Are they at—"
"Okay Dwight, I think we've got it," Michael interrupted. Dwight sat down and raised his head haughtily in the air.
"One more thing, if you have any suspicions about anyone here…let me know. As deputy sheriff."
"No. Alright, any questions?" The room was silent, "Okay, next…" he paused for a moment, and glanced around the room. "So you users! Anyone else want to share about a time that they…how about you, Kevin?"
Kevin eyed the room nervously.
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"I have never done drugs," Kevin said glancing over his shoulders, "I have never done drugs."
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"Okay, well this was a bust. Ha! No pun intended! Alright, in conclusion, don't do drugs, or…you'll be fired. And drugs are bad for you so don't do them. Alright dudes and dudettes, back to work!"
The employees exited the conference room chatting idly to each other.
"Creed, I heard you had a wild past…smoking stuff," Oscar said with a grin on his face.
"Hmm? No, I'm not choking," Creed replied.
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Jim had been at his desk for all of five minutes when he stood and crossed to reception.
"So Pam," Jim said innocently, "Have you ever…you know." He nodded his head back towards Michael's office.
"What? Of course not! I am insulted that you would even ask," she folded her arms. Jim nodded his head, and was silent for a moment.
"In high school?"
"Totally. But only once, I was a good girl. You?" she asked.
"Twice. I too, was a good girl," he replied seriously, and she giggled.
"Hey, so I've been meaning to ask you. Um…how are things…you know after the whole Katy and the temp fiasco?"
He stared at her for a moment.
"Um…fine, actually haven't talked to her at all. Hey, I'll talk to you later, I'm kind of behind on some work."
Pam sighed as she watched him walk back to his desk. She figured she probably shouldn't have even mentioned it. Things were finally somewhat normal between her and Jim. She didn't want to mess that up.
Jim sat down and pretended to work for several minutes. It was hard to concentrate. He was certain he could hear a soft, shrill, ringing coming from somewhere. He sighed and decided he needed to cheer himself up.
"Hey Dwight," Dwight jerked his head up.
"What do you want?" he snapped.
"Nothing. Except, um, I have it on good word that someone in the office is under the influence."
"What?" Dwight whispered, his voice full of shock, "Tell me Jim. Tell me now."
Jim nodded his head seriously, "Well, this person's eyes are bloodshot. Hygiene's horrible…and since I've been here I've definitely seen their weight fluctuate,"
Dwight nodded along, hanging on Jim's every word, "Who is it?" he asked. Jim reached in his desk drawer and held up a small card.
"That's my driver's license," Dwight said.
"Yep," Jim replied.
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"What did I learn today?" Pam paused thoughtfully, "Pretty much nothing. So you know…just another day at the office."
