It was two minutes past eleven in the morning of her first day of work and Pam was already fantasizing about killing herself. Or quitting. Or feigning a heart attack. She had had to do that one, more than once, in acting school. She knew she could manage a convincing stroke that could send her to the hospital for a couple of hours at least. Until lunch break, maybe?

The phone rang.

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam." Call for Stanley. She checked the post-it pasted on the side of the high counter on her desk. 3026. "I'll transfer you, hold on, please."

She considered Stanley. From where she was sitting, she couldn't really see him, but his deep voice carried to her ears. She remembered he looked as bored as she was feeling right now.

Michael had greeted her cheerfully, taking two long strides towards her the moment she entered the office, and she was sure he had wanted to hug her, but she avoided it by sneezing convincingly. She fought the urge to offer him a boogie-covered hand to shake and instead she just nodded, with a shy smile.

And then her new boss had proceeded to parade her around the office, making introductions and very lame jokes, some of them bordering on politically offensive. Her now co workers seemed to be used to this. Besides an occasional eye roll or two, they barely reacted.

Dwight was the guy in the glasses and he gave her a long hard look, muttering something about a background check that gave her an instant of panic. Was that another lame attempt at a joke, only a different type? Would the network take it seriously? She filed that one for the next time she'd talk to one of the assistant producers.

Jim was the other salesman on the first desk and apparently the youngest. When Michael started making jokes with his name, he just looked to the ceiling, tight lipped, in an overly dramatic way and Pam felt like genuinely smiling for the first time.

The people at accounting seemed a strange bunch. From them, she liked Oscar instantly, and held her opinion on the other two. The rest of the salespersons became a mixed blur but for Stanley. It first struck Pam how could it be possible for somebody to look so bored at nine in the morning. Now, after more than two hours if being there, she could fully empathize.

She tried to stretch a little, while looking around again. The chair she was sitting on was not exactly comfortable and she wished for sweatpants and a sweatshirt instead of that pencil skirt.

Jim stretched as well, in a much less inconspicuous way, scratched his head making his bunch of hair an even messier affair, and their eyes met. A little embarrassed of having been caught staring, she composed a polite smile that he took it as an invitation to come to her desk. Pam felt a little bit like that instant in which you're just about to go on stage and part of your brain wonders if you're going to mess it up completely… which was ridiculous. This was, by far, the easiest part she'd played.

"So… Pam." Jim said, his hands on the surface of her high desk. "Dying of boredom already?"

She raised her eyebrows, a little surprised. "Is it that obvious?"

"A little. And I happen to know that no normal person could resist this place for over 10 minutes without planning to commit suicide."

This time she chuckled. "I was just considering that," Pam said honestly.

He flashed a grin and gave a small tap on the counter. "Good. I was just checking you were normal. Which, I'm pleased to notice, you are."

She didn't really know what to say but she guessed that was good for her character. Coming back with a cheeky retort didn't really sound like plain receptionist Pam.

"Incidentally," Jim said, looking thoughtful at the empty surface of her desk. "I guess nobody told you, but with your post you have some serious responsibilities."

Pam rolled her eyes. Just what she needed, a bossy colleague with a tendency to chit chat.

"Really? Should I take notes?" it escaped her before she could stop herself.

He raised one eyebrow and smiled. "Was that sarcasm, Miss Beesly?"

"Not at all," she said in the same voice. "Please tell me about those responsibilities."

"Sugar," he stated, and for a moment she wanted to fill a complaint right then and there, thinking this would be one of those terms of endearment she wouldn't be able to shake off for the duration of this job.

"What?"

"Sugar, you need to provide sugar. Candy, small bonbons, something. Not peppermints though, nobody in their right mind would like those."

"Are you serious?" Pam was part amused, part relieved. "Do you expect me to walk around the office feeding candy to all of you?"

Jim wiggled his eyebrows. "Sounds nice, but then," he leaned on his eyebrows over the counter to whisper conspiratorially, "you'd have to interact with Dwight and ugh, I wouldn't wish that to my worst enemy… especially since he is my worst enemy."

Pam checked past Jim's shoulder just in time to see Dwight, his eyes fixed on his monitor, peeling what looked like a large, beet and then take a bite of it. Her eyes opened in surprise.

"Now you get it," Jim observed.

"O… k…"

"So, what I'm saying is that it is your most important task to keep some candy around here. So if somebody, say, me for instance, is in the verge of considering suicide once more, that somebody could walk over here and get a fix."

"I see. This is just to keep the office population sane… and alive."

"Exactly," he smiled.

She smiled back, couldn't help it, really. "I'll consider your suggestion, Jim. Run it with Michael. Maybe with that HR guy too."

"What?" for a moment, he looked put out until he saw something in Pam's pretended serious expression and laugh.

"Right. Do that," he said, turning around to head to his desk. But he stopped and faced her again. "Do you have plans for lunch? Have you brought yours?"

Pam shook her head slowly, trying to think on her feet. Was he just being friendly or was there something flirty in his demeanor?

"I… haven't," she said slowly. "What are my choices?"

"I can show you around," he said with a smile. "Let's say… 12.30?"

"Ok," Pam said, not really sure if this was a good or a bad idea.

"Ok," he repeated, finally going to his desk. Pam followed with her gaze and, involuntarily, her eyes met Dwight's, as he gave another rather large bite to the beet.

"What?" Dwight said, and even from where Pam was seated, she could see purple teeth.

"Nothing," she muttered, looking down to her keyboard.

A moment later she looked up again, to see if Dwight was still staring at her. She found Jim's eyes again and he gave her a clear "told-you-so" look.

Pam shook her head and looked back at her monitor to hide a wide grin that was threatening to appear. Maybe she would save that fake stroke for another time.

At the end of that day, she was ready to argue that the fact that Jim was riding down the elevator with her was just a coincidence. The rest of the office had gone some quarter of an hour before, and she had had to stay a little late to figure out the ancient fax machine and send a couple of documents that Michael had just remembered needed sending.

And Jim… well, he must have had something to do as well.

So they both exited the office together and talked about jelly beans being better than m&m's, which for a moment became a real discussion in Pam's mind. The real Pam. And just as she was starting to realize this, and the fact that this was not the first time that day she stopped feeling like an actor to feel like herself instead, the elevator door opened and she was almost startled by the cheery "hey, babe" that greeted her.

Roy. Right. They were supposed to drive home together to convince the rest-

"Hey, Roy." That voice inside her brain yelled 'action' and that real Pam went forgotten as she moved forward to respond to Roy's peck on the lips.

"I was about to go up and see if you were ok," he smiled friendly.

"Yeah… no… I mean, I had to send some faxes and that took a while. Sorry to kept you waiting."

"You work upstairs too?" Roy asked Jim, almost ignoring her reply.

"Yeah. I think I've seen you on the warehouse?" Jim looked friendly but Pam had the feeling there was something clipped about his demeanor.

"Delivery guy," he said. "And this girl's fiancé," Roy hug her side a little awkwardly and Pam gave a very uncomfortable chuckle.

"Oh," Jim said with a toothless smile. "Congratulations."

"Thanks man. Come on, Pammy, let's go home."

Pam cringed inwardly, making a mental note to talk to Roy or to whatever writer came with this idea, and convince them that Pammy was not a good nickname. At all.

She gave Jim a quick "bye", and tried to ignore how he'd frowned a little, or how his head looked a little bowed as he walked to his car. Instead, she took the hand Roy was offering and tried to recall everything Pam and Roy shared. Her high school sweetheart. A future lined up together. She was in love with this man. She was a professional actress, making a part look convincing. 'Action'.

"How was your day?" Roy asked.

"Good… you know… boring, but not bad. How about yours?"

"Kinda tired, to be honest. Can't wait to get home and get myself a beer."

He climbed up his truck and Pam took the passenger seat. When Roy and Pam moved to Scranton for this job, the network helped them get nearby apartments, so that they could drive together without much inconvenience. The moment Pam learned this, she wished that Roy wouldn't end up being one of those overly friendly neighbors, knocking on her door to share Chinese or something. Fortunately, so far there hadn't been a sign of him wanting to be with her more than what was strictly necessary.

The moment they got outside the parking lot, Pam let out a long sigh.

"Tired, huh?" Roy asked, and this time he sounded a little bit more than the person she remembered from the waiting room outside their final audition.

"Yeah, kinda. It's been a long day."

"I don't know how you do it. Honestly," he scratched his chin, his eyes on the road.

"What do you mean?"

"Well… I come here just twice a week, and I get to go out for 'deliveries'," he explained, making quotation marks in the air. "Which basically mean giving the package to a real delivery guy and going to watch some TV or whatever. You, on the other hand… are just there."

"Yeah well…" Pam shrugged, but she felt a little bit better. It sounded bad, but here was Roy, a fellow actor, being the first person to recognize the effort.

"I suppose it'll get better once the cameras come," Roy continued. "Back in our element, you know. It's easier to stay on character when a sound guy is hovering a mike over your head."

Pam sighed and sat a little bit more comfortably on the big seat.

"I think you're right."

They didn't talk any further. After fidgeting with his iPod, Roy settled on hip hop and Pam decided to bring headphones every time she and him would have to do the let's go home together routine. Especially considering that his place was not exactly near the office, something the network liked, because it would make it very difficult for them to bump into one of their "colleagues".

The moment Roy parked at their apartment complex Pam all but jumped out of the truck. She was tired. Her head seemed to bump following the hip hop rhythm, and most of all, she needed to get into her regular clothes.

"Bye, Roy, she said in front of the elevator. Thanks for the ride."

"See ya."

She knew she might be read as cold, or too uninterested. Maybe the could've shared diner, or a beer, but she didn't want to consider that possibility. She liked boundaries. Boundaries helped her do her job, without forgetting about the real Pam.

The real Pam, she mused, her eyes barely registering the mirrored surface of the inside of the elevator. They were using her real name to try to make it easier for her, but she wondered if it was really working. Because, yeah, as she interacted with Roy in the parking lot it was pristine clear that she was acting, both of them were. Just as she was when she talked to Michael or every time she had to answer the phone today. But then there had been those times during the day. Maybe m&m's are better, Jim, but jelly beans keep people on their toes. That hasn't been a line. That was her. The one who ordered gnocchi at lunch, because Pam really likes gnocchi. The one who told Jim she likes to draw on her free time, which also happens to be true.

Pam opened her door and, with a satisfied sigh she took of her boring shoes and threw her pencil skirt on the back of her couch. A long shower and some pj's, and maybe even some trashy TV while waiting for a delivery guy. The real Pam needed some real time for herself.