Michael stuck his head out of his office. "Hey, Pam, could you come in here for a sec?"
"Sure," she replied.
As she entered, Michael gestured to a chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat." She began to lower herself into the chair. "Wait, no," said Michael. She paused, halfway seated. "Get the door," he said. "Close the door, then have a seat."
Warily, Pam complied.
Michael steepled his fingers, leaned them against his chin, and heaved a big sigh.
Pam waited.
"Could you order me some more of those pens? The ballpoint, not the gel ones…those gel ones bleed right through paper. Low quality paper, mostly," he corrected himself. "But I think the last batch of the pens…those gel ones…they, uh, they were probably faulty, because it bled right through some of our very own high quality product and I had to reprint a whole contract."
"Uh-huh," said Pam.
"Thanks," he said.
There was a long pause.
"Is that all?" asked Pam.
"No," said Michael. "No, that is not all."
Pam waited.
"Pam," said Michael, with another huge sigh. "Oh, Pam, what are we going to do?"
"Is this still about the pens?"
"No, it is not."
"Then…."
"This is about Jim Halpert."
Pam froze.
"As you know, Jim and I were pretty close. Are pretty close. When he hurts, I hurt. We—and I'm using the office we—are not just hurting financially by losing a salesman like Jim, we are hurting, may I say, emotionally. Am I right?"
"I…uh…."
"You two used to talk all the time."
She caught herself looking towards the door and shrugged in response to his statement.
"What"—Michael copied the shrug—"what's that?"
"Um…what's…."
"What? The shrug, what was that little shrug thing?" Michael's shoulders convulsed in a quick series of shrugs.
Pam stared blankly.
"It was a simple statement. 'You two used to talk all the time.' It really didn't need any response from you at all, actually. 'You two used to talk all the time.' What, you thought maybe nobody noticed? Like maybe I don't see what's going on right under my nose?"
Pam's lips were pressed so tightly together the color was draining.
"Because I see, Pam," said Michael. "I see…everything. Well, not exactly. I mean, I'm not omniscient. But as far as this office goes…I see everything. What would you call that? 'Officient'?"
Pam started to shrug again, but stopped herself.
"The thing is, Pam," said Michael, "I miss Jim. We all miss Jim. How could we not? He was a great worker. And…here's the thing…"—he smiled sympathetically at her—"it's your fault he's gone."
Pam made a little choking noise.
"I just…I just wanted you to think about that," said Michael somberly, leaning forward on his desk. "Give it some serious thought."
Pam sat motionless, staring unseeingly at her hands.
"That's it," said Michael. "You can get back to work now."
Pam looked up at him in confusion. Michael waved his hands at her in a shooing motion. With some effort, she got out of her chair, opened the door, and walked back to her desk.
"And don't forget about those pens!" he called after her.
He smiled at the camera. "I think that went very well."