2:16 PM - Office (Sales Division)
Jim had laid low after lunch. He didn't want to arouse any suspicion from Dwight, plus he and Pam had to plot out exactly how to accomplish their goal. They needed to get Dwight completely out of the office for at least two or three minutes. They decided that whatever excuse they gave Dwight required Pam to go along with him, to be sure he stayed out long enough. Jim didn't know yet what she'd come up with, but he was sure it would good. He checked the clock, saw that it was time, and coughed lightly. From the corner of his eye he saw Pam get up from behind her desk and approach him.
"Hey, Jim?"
He looked up, feigning surprise. "Oh hey, Pam. What's up?"
She shook her head. "I'm really sorry - I forgot to give you this message earlier."
Jim took it and read.
"--Ask me what's wrong.
--Offer to help.
--In advance – no offense!"
He was a little confused, but knew she had things under control. She was still there, leaning against his desk and looking upset.
"What's the matter?" he asked. Pam sighed.
"I left my cell phone in my car and I really need it. The thing is…"
"What?" He was intrigued.
"Did you happen to see the news last night?"
"No, I missed it."
"Well, they had this story about a woman who got kidnapped from the parking lot of an office not far from here, and…" She bit her lip nervously. She was good. "I know it's stupid, but I'm kind of scared to go out there on my own."
He could see the story had gotten Dwight's attention, not to mention that of the cameraman. Jim started to stand. "I'll go with you to your car," he offered. Dwight let out a short, bark-like laugh.
"Uh, you?" he scoffed. "What would you do if you came face to face with a perp?"
Jim shrugged. "I'd figure it out."
"Pam, question: if you want someone to keep you safe, wouldn't you prefer it was someone who actually knew how to protect you?"
"Well…"
"I am trained in the martial arts and hold the office of volunteer sheriff's deputy. If there's anyone qualified enough to accompany you, it's clearly me. What does Jim know? Besides, he's so scrawny, it's pathetic."
Jim looked directly at the camera for the first time – for some reason he couldn't help it. It was part 'please say you're getting this,' part 'I'm sorry you have to witness this.' Pam looked from him to Dwight.
"He kind of has a point, Jim," she conceded. "I mean, Dwight is pretty intimidating, and all that training…" Dwight smirked. Jim sat back down.
"Fine," he said, acting offended. As Dwight stood and hurried around his desk Pam managed to sneak him the tiniest smile.
"Come on, Pam!" he called from the reception desk. Pam hurried behind her desk to grab her keys. A cameraman followed them out, and as they left Jim heard Pam asking Dwight about the details of his "office." He laughed, then ran around to Dwight's desk. He saw the other cameraman turn and start towards him. He picked up the receiver of Dwight's phone.
"What are you doing?" Phyllis asked softly. Jim held up a finger to her, then gently pulled the receiver apart. Inside were dozens and dozens of nickels. Packed in around them were pulled-apart cotton balls. The cameraman was now on the opposite side of Dwight's desk, so Jim held out the phone to show him. He carefully dumped the change into his hand, then reached over to set it on his desk. He took the cotton balls out and threw them away. He replaced the receiver and went back to his desk, sweeping the change into a baggie he found in his top drawer. The cameraman's brow was furrowed. Jim grinned.
"I've been adding a nickel or two in there every day for the past month and a half," he explained. The cameraman jerked the camera towards the trash where the cotton was. "To keep the coins from jingling around." He raised his eyebrows. Cameraman smiled but still looked perplexed. "Just wait til his phone rings." Jim assured him.
A moment or two later Dwight and Pam returned, Dwight droning on about his purple belt status. "Uh huh, well, thanks Dwight," Pam interrupted at the first pause.
"No need for thanks – it's my duty, Pam," he chastised her as he returned to his desk.
"Find any perps?" Jim asked lightly.
"No, lucky for them. You could have actually gone."
"Well, I'm glad you made it back safely."
"Pfft! As if there was any doubt."
Jim shook his head. "Didn't doubt it for a second," he said. He cleared his throat, a coded message to Pam that he had done the job. Dwight looked up at the cameraman still lurking.
"Why is he over here? What did you do?" he asked, eyes narrowed.
"Nothing."
"Then why is he watching us so closely?"
"Don't worry about it."
"I don't buy it."
Jim thought on the spot. Heaving a sigh, he muttered, "He was taping me. Looking embarrassed." Dwight raised an eyebrow. Jim gestured in Pam's direction. "About not being good enough to help Pam."
"I'd be embarrassed if I were you, too."
"Thanks. Can we drop it now?" Jim rested his head in his hand, putting on a dejected look. Satisfied, Dwight returned to work. With a quick smile to Pam, Jim did the same.
2:52 PM - Reception
"How can he not have gotten a single call in over a half hour?" Jim whispered to Pam as he made a show of leafing through a file on her counter. Pam smiled as she kept her eyes on her monitor.
"I blocked his phone line."
"Really?"
Pam shrugged. "I wanted to make sure he was caught completely unaware." She grinned, sneaking a peek his way. He shook his head, smiling. God he loved this girl.
"You, Beesly, are the master."
"Bow to me later. I'll call him in two minutes."
Jim returned to his desk. He pulled up his client list and attempted to look studious. Right on cue, Pam coughed to get Jim's attention. He first caught the eye of the cameraman who had watched him empty the phone and smiled, then jerked his head in Dwight's direction. He drummed his fingers on the table to cue Pam. Jim could barely contain his smile as Dwight's phone rang.
Expecting a receiver that he had been trained over the past six weeks to find much heavier, Dwight jerked the receiver up to his ear. Hard. There was a satisfying thwack as it connected with the side of his face.
"Ow! Dammit!"
"Oh man, Dwight, careful!" Jim admonished, trying to keep his laugh stifled.
Dwight looked stunned. He hefted the receiver in his hand. He examined it, then the cord, but could find no reason for what happened. He glared at Jim. "What did you do?"
"What do you mean?"
"How did you do that?"
"Do what? Hit you in the face with the phone? You did that."
"What did you do to my phone?"
"What could I have done to your phone to make you hit yourself with it?" Jim asked.
"You tell me!"
"I can't. I don't even get the question."
"Jim, you'd better tell me or I'm telling Michael!"
Jim shrugged. "Well if you really feel like you need to tell Michael you hit yourself with the phone, don't let me stop you. I don't know why he'd care, but…"
"Michael!"
"Physical abuse of a worker by another worker…well, in this case the same worker? Wouldn't that be an issue for HR?" Jim mused, looking at Pam. She nodded.
"I'd definitely file a report with Toby."
"Ugh, Toby," Michael muttered, emerging from his office. "What's the trouble?"
"Jim did something to my phone," Dwight accused. Michael looked at Jim, who played clueless. "I just hit myself in the face with the receiver," he kept trying to explain.
Michael snorted, then composed himself. "What's Jim got to do with that?"
"My point exactly," Jim said.
"He's trying to make me look like an idiot in front of the cameras," Dwight hissed.
"Too late," Jim muttered, no longer able to hide his smile. Just as Dwight was about to go on another tirade, Randall emerged from the conference room.
"I really hate to interrupt, but would you mind if I had a quick word with everyone?" he asked Michael, who shook his head.
"Not at all. People, hey! Listen up!" he called unnecessarily, as everyone had been watching the action between Jim and Dwight.
"We'd like to start filming what we refer to as talking heads with each of you. A talking head is just you in front of the camera, talking. I'll be asking you questions, so don't feel as if you have to come up with a speech or anything. We'll be calling you one by one into the conference room, so just listen for your name, OK?" There were nods and murmurs of agreement. "Great. Thanks everyone. First up…" He checked his clipboard. "Angela Martin?" The tiny blonde accountant stood and primly made her way across the office and into the conference room.
"This isn't over," Dwight warned as he turned back toward his computer. On impulse Jim flashed another grin at the camera.
"It never is."