Michael assembles an away-team to go to Valley View High School -- Pam's alma mater, as it happens -- for a job fair. He hopes to scare up some interns and "youthanize" the office. It's going to be himself, Oscar, Darryl, and Pam, the latter for "eye candy." Michael's dressed all casual, as opposed to Darryl in a shirt and tie that Kelly thinks makes him look like Barack Obama (neither of those names is in my spell check, by the way -- yet). Darryl, as Michael says, is coming along to hire kids for the warehouse, because they "ain't going to college." Which prompts Darryl to wonder where Michael went to college. "Let's go!" Michael chirps.
Jim, meanwhile, is actually hitting the golf course with a potential client. As he puts it, he's on probation thanks to Ryan the ex-temp, and it's not a good time for him to get fired, because of something to do with Pam? And some...personal? Uh, long-term plans? That her parents might be interested in...? What could he be talking about there? Anyway, he's going to do something he's never done in this job: try.
So Jim and Kevin and Andy meet up with a gray-haired guy named Phil at the driving range. He's a Dartmouth grad, and Andy is of course way too aggressive about the Cornell rivalry before declining to shake, pleading "blisties." Probably something to do with the 1200 balls he hit last night to practice. Indeed, when Andy holds up his palms to the camera, they look like he's been petting the core of a nuclear reactor. Phil offers to "make things interesting," and Kevin's all over that; as he THs, he plans to turn some petty cash from Oscar into week's rent.
Back in her old high school gym, Pam reminisces about all sports she faked PMS to get out of back in the day. Today, of course, it's a job fair, with booths as far as the eye can see. Which is about to the wall. Michael mocks the arcade basketball thing some company has set up, especially in comparison to what he brought: a single blank sheet of paper, symbolizing limitless possibilities. "Conceptual," he blusters. And with that out of the way, the four of them can get down to the business of sitting behind a table and being ignored.
On the golf course, Andy's struggling, and not just because of the blisties -- he admits that contrary to people's assumptions about him, he's actually not that good at golf in general, thanks to having blown off his childhood lessons to hang out with the sailing club and "get [his] knot on."
Back at the office, with the bosses gone, the skeleton crew is considering sneaking out. "I got my work done months ago," Creed shrugs. But since Dwight, is in charge -- tied with the absent Andy in the line of succession -- he says nobody's going anywhere. Not that this keeps Stanley from walking out without a word. Dwight threatens the remaining potential mutineers with dire consequences if they follow: "I will tell on you."
Pam's talking to a sort of dopey-looking student named Justin about the DM experience, and being charitable by making it sound just kind of boring instead of soul-killing. Michael interrupts them to remind Pam, "Only the best and the brightest." And then he rather rudely blows the kid off: "Maybe for you, paper should be more of a hobby," he Simons. Justin wanders off, and Michael is enraged to see that the kid signed his name on the one piece of paper. He demands a new one immediately. "Yeah, the booth is lame without it," Darryl mutters. Pam reminds Michael that he specifically told her to bring one sheet of paper, and her memory of the exchange is quite specific: "You said 'Pam! Pam! Pam!' and you sneezed in my tea." Which is how we know this really happened. Still, she's off to find new paper. "And that is why I need a smart intern," Michael camera-snots.
Out on the course, Jim tries to put the sales moves on Phil, but Phil's not interested. "So I guess I'll just work on my short game," Jim camera-sighs.
Michael's getting frustrated with the difficulty of luring kids to the booth. Tough to lure kids these days. "Thank you, Dateline."
At the office, Dwight gets up and goes to the bathroom. Creed calls Angela to ask if she wants to "ditch this bitch. " She doesn't. "Pumpkin's out," Creed announces. So Phyllis, Kelly, Meredith, and Creed head out. When Dwight comes back from the facilities, only Angela is left. And only her head and shoulders, at that.
Pam goes into her old art room and right to the cabinet with the paper in it. She looks for one of her old pieces on the wall, but it's gone. She doesn't take this as hard as you might think.
Dwight calls Michael's cell phone to report the mutiny, but Michael's not interested, taking the wind out of Dwight's sails "So what else is going on?" Dwight asks. Michael hangs up on him, and Dwight pretends not to be too crushed to get back to work.
Pam returns to the booth with a piece of paper, but since it's not Dunder Mifflin paper, Michael "Pam! Pam! Pam! Pam!"s her and sends her back to the office for "the good stuff." "Are you serious?" she asks. He is. "And don't call me Shirley."
Phil is doggedly struggling to get his ball out of a sand trap while the DM guys watch. This will be relevant later, sort of.
Pam walks into the office, takes one sheet of paper from the copier, holds it up to the camera (like the office camera crew would even know what's going on at this point) and walks back out, to Dwight's confusion.
Andy poorly lines up a putt when Jim's cell phone rings. It's Pam, telling him about her errand. "I could have just had them fax it to me, I guess," she cracks. "I like you," Jim says, and he must mean it, because when he hangs up, he has inspiration to move in on Phil once again. Phil shoots him down again. Andy calls a race to the hole, the jumps in the golf cart and crashes it into the sand trap. Embarrassing, yes, but the time he and Jim woo a client on a yacht, he's going to own that bitch.
Angela quietly waits in line at the copier. Behind Dwight.
Michael complains about the poor quality of jobs available to the kids at the job fair: "I would rather live jobless, on a beach somewhere, living off the money from a large inheritance" than take one of them, he says. Whoa, big talker. You can tell he's frustrated because he goes over to Darryl and Oscar at the basketball booth, tells them "game over," and kicks the ball across the gym. Charming.
Michael has decided he's interested in Justin anyway, putting the Michael moves on him. Which of course means making a bunch of stale puns about Justin's name that even a teenager has heard a million times in his life. Michael compares Justin to the ugly girl in the movie who takes off her glasses and gets hot, but was in fact hot all along and you just didn't know it. "He's the most important thing in my life right now," he THs.
Michael drags Justin back over to the booth and introduces the group, including Pam, "the office hottie. She will do you." Humiliated, Pam gets up and leaves. Michael confides to Justin, "I would never say this to her face, but she's a wonderful person and a gifted artist." "Why wouldn't you say that to her face?" Oscar demands. It's all moot, though, because Justin has enough dignity to walk away from Michael.
At the nineteenth hole, Andy struggles to wrangle his beer bottle with his wrists. Jim just sits to him and watches him struggle. In case you haven't caught on yet, Andy's arc this week is "can't do nothin'."
Dwight sneezes. Angela blesses him. Is this relationship thawing?
While Andy drinks through a straw, Kevin settles the bets: Jim owes him $120 and Phil owes him $230. Phil says he and Kevin will be playing more often. "Count me in," Andy says. "Nope," Phil says. Jim makes another pitch, and Phil wavers -- get back to him at the end of his fiscal year in two months. Jim then follows Phil to his car and makes a nuisance of himself until Phil gives him his business. Between shooting a 102 and abjectly humiliating himself, Jim's feeling pretty good right about now.
Back at the job fair, someone announces on the microphone that the job fair is closing in five minutes. Okay, she obviously doesn't know Rule One of Dealing with Michael Scott: Never tell him the clock is running out. Michael decides to make one last move with his own patented brand of desperation. He takes the mic and mocks the other booths in his sightline, like wondering what H&R Block even does, and whether the funeral director is taking his work home with him. He wisely stops short of making fun of the Air Force. But now security is coming, so he makes one final appeal for Dunder Mifflin as a great place to work, despite not being able to offer college credit or any pay. Amazingly, there are no takers. At least he finishes without trying to make a joke. Which, for Michael, is a feat on the order of teleporting.
At precisely the stroke of five, Dwight and Angela leave for the day. He holds the door for her, and she thanks him. So that was a whole day of awkward silence and pregnancy-hiding they got done today.
The job fair crew returns to the office to see Jim, Kevin, and Andy toasting with beers in the bullpen. Pam realizes that this means Jim closed the deal, and she runs to him for a big hug and kiss while the guys all watch. Then she remembers herself, shakes his hand, and congratulates him more formally. Jim says, "Screw this," and goes in for an even longer kiss. Kevin and Andy obligingly start humming porn music.
Michael THs that he was wrong to question himself today: A guy like Jim Halpert could do anything he wants, and he chooses to work here, selling paper, just like Michael. Back in the bullpen, Jim and Pam are still kissing, and Michael smirks up behind Pam and says, "Kiss her. Kiss her good." So that's the end of that kiss. And all future kisses, probably.
And the tag takes us back in time, back to the job fair. Pam goes up to a guy at a booth for a graphic design firm. Upon learning that the applicant needs to know all the design software packages, Pam looks a little worried. But never fear, the guy says -- there are all sorts of great programs in New York and Philadelphia. Pam is...open to it. Which is pretty ominous for the season's penultimate episode, if you think about it.
M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, or just e-mail him at m.giant[at]gmail.com.
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