Casino Night

Sample Essays: "Casino Night"

Essay 1. Outline your overall goals, aspirations and hopes with regard to this assignment.

To resist the sickening predilection for reducing the art and creativity of scores of truly talented people down to a simplistic romantic story that is neither "romantic" nor, up to this point, a "story." Boy meets girl, boy and girl spend most of their time ignoring each other for no good reason except self-hatred and laziness. I don't like looking at it. Concentrating on it to the exclusion of the rest of the story is creepy and in bad taste, and it's just offensive to me. It makes me think of the smoking, half-lesbian Bouvier sisters who liked to imagine fucking MacGyver was their boyfriend. It's kitsch. It's the opposite of art. It destroys art. It destroys souls. It is so much more offensive to me than hard-core porno.

When it gets down to it, I trust the show to do what would really happen, not what we fear (Sam/Diane, Maddie/David) or what we secretly want (Jim is burned beyond recognition in a plane crash and brought to Pam by a Bedouin tribe; everybody gets cancer, everybody dies, people of diminished mental capacity running around teaching everybody about love and the simplicity of happiness; a serendipitous coincidence of emails and meddling, lonely children brings them together under unlikely circumstances; tears roll down; we all buy another cat). I'm not a slut, but who knows? I trust the show to do it fucking brilliantly, and in concert with the stories of the -- how many? -- fifteen other people we see in every episode, and who deserve a little time, a little thought. And a lot more love, frankly, because they're not beautiful and they're not fucked over on their own watch and by their own hand at every possible opportunity.

Now! Bring on the unspoken sexual tension and the beautiful, angstiful, wonderful love pain!

Essay 2. Set The Scene (Descriptive Language): Portray through use of adjectives and short quotations the preparations for a Dunder-Mifflin Casino Night party. Compare and contrast with other annual events (i.e., "The Dundies"). Use as source material the episode as performed from Steve Carell's script for the finale of Season Two of The Office.

As workers set up tables in the warehouse, Michael fills us in on how the Scranton Business Park is having Casino Night: "...I know it's illegal in Pennsylvania but...it's for charity. And I consider myself a great philanderer." (Funny now, not so funny in about 30 minutes.) Michael's slippery logic slope takes us to the place where apparently, Casino Night means "some little kid in the Congo has a bellyful of rice this evening."

Out near reception, Dwight takes off his coat, revealing a tuxedo. He looks sharp. Ish. At Dwight's anxious throat-clear, Jim approaches, and asks him how long the wait will be for a table for two. Dwight's reply is classically beautiful: "I would never, ever serve you. Not in a million, billion years." Pam compliments the tux; Dwight takes it in stride. "I know. It belonged to my grandfather, he was buried in it. So: family heirloom." Oh dear. Pam and Jim watch him walk away. I used to think it would be hard to be Dwight but I think he does all right, on reflection.

Later, Roy is loitering, bitching at Pam about the cash bar. She demurs with some offhand comment about being a "roulette expert"; Dwight calls bullshit. "Impossible. Roulette is not a game of skill. It is a game of chance." Jim spins a tale of childhood telekinesis, which puts Dwight in a catch-22: believe Jim and give him a tiny bit of satisfaction, disbelieve and the world just got that much smaller. "I don't believe you. Continue." Jim gives him examples ("making things shake," "making marbles fall off the counter"), and Dwight demands -- calling for everyone's attention -- that he demonstrate this power. "Why don't you move that coat rack?" He asks for silence, Jim stares intensely at the coat rack, which is behind Pam's desk, and it slowly begins to wave back and forth. Dwight stares insanely.

Pam, in interview, smiles mutely, holding up an umbrella. Shines like a Christmas tree.

Back at reception, Pam winks at Jim in a sneaky and incredibly sexy way. Knees melted, I'm telling you, every time. Which is a lot of times, considering I still have this episode on TiFaux. Jim smiles but doesn't drop the act, getting even more intense on the coat rack. "Oh, my God," says Dwight. Indeed. (Credits. Take a sec to note, please, that the only thing that would make Jim more ideal would be if he did have psychic powers. That's literally like the only thing.)

Dwight casually checks his messages with Pam, and when her back is turned, he frisks the coat rack in classic stage-magic form, giving it an air-hug down to the carpet.

Michael's got Jan on speakerphone again -- never good, always awesome -- as he compares the performance of the Scranton branch to a "David and Goliath thing." Downsizing is the gun in the first act that will never, ever go off. (Cross those fingers, anyway.) Of the five branches under Jan, she explains, Scranton is number four. Continuity Patrol needs you to know that Jan's now divorced and that she and Michael have slept together; Michael Adoration Patrol would have you rest assured that he earned it, and that furthermore Jan Levinson has the most beautiful smile on the planet. Michael jokes that fourth of five puts him in the top eighty percent, and she cuts him off: "Michael. You know that I'm very serious here." He promises to "kick it up a notch," giving her an Emeril "Bam!" for good measure. She doesn't catch the reference, he smoothly continues. "...While I have you -- not that I have you, or have ever had you, but -- we're having our Casino Night tonight, and I think everyone would love to see their fearless leader here." Which, Jan points out, ought more likely to be Michael himself. He says she's more the "Eva Peron" to his "Cesar Chavez," and she actually laughs, because that's adorable Michael talk, but she shoots him down on coming to Casino Night. He begs, she puts it off, he pushes too hard ("I can hear it in your voice, you need a break!"), she hangs up.

Michael: "Jan and I understand each other. The romance thing is sort of on hold for the time being, but we're ... we've remained good friends. Good friends with privileges. Not now. Someday."

Later, Michael sits atop reception, holding court. "Tonight's event is to benefit the Boy Scouts of America..." Oscar, of course, is not interested in benefiting the BSA, because vice versa, and Michael explains, I think sincerely, that they need the money: "They don't have cookies like the Girl Scouts!" Oscar suggests that it might be "nice" to do something for "people who are actually suffering." Michael says that this is still Oscar's problem, because the person with the highest chip count at the end of the night will get $500 for the charity of their choice -- and a mini-fridge, compliments of Vance Refrigeration. Phyllis, who's with Bob Vance of Vance Refrigeration, smiles cutely, tongue between her teeth. I love the way even mentioning his Refrigeration lights her up like that.

Michael tells them to get their chosen charity to Pam -- remember Animal Crack-Ups? I loved that crazy show -- and says that, for his part, he'll be playing for Comic Relief. Which, Jim points out in a forthright manner, no longer exists. "Comedy's very much alive. As are homeless people." Pam tries again, saying that the show is no longer being made -- "Then they need our money more than ever!" -- but Angela cuts in with a definite ruling: "You have to pick an approved, nonprofit organization."

Creed: "There's a great soup kitchen in downtown Scranton. Delicious pea soup on Thursdays."

Kevin: "Something with animals. ...Or people?"

Kelly: "Kobe Bryant has a foundation, and he is so hot. And he gave his wife the biggest diamond ring. I know he didn't do it.

"...Maybe he did it."

Angela: "We are giving money that has been gambled. Why don't we just deal drugs, or prostitute ourselves, and donate that money to charity?"

Back to the meeting. "Another fun thing! We, at the end of the night, are going to give the check to an actual group of Boy Scouts. Right, Toby?" Toby interrupts, explaining that he decided it was inappropriate to invite children to Casino Night, given the following HR matrix:

Gambling
Alcohol
It's in our dangerous warehouse
It's a school night
Hooters is catering
Is that enough? Should I keep going?

Sheesh, corporate. Michael levels him with a truly poisonous gaze: "Why are you...the way that you are? Honestly, every time I try to do something fun, or exciting, you make it...not that way. I hate...so much about the things that you choose to be."

Toby is quiet; everybody is quiet.

Michael: "Okay, you know what? I will not donate my winnings to Comic Relief, since apparently, it doesn't exist. I am going to donate to Afghanistanis with AIDS." Jim again corrects him ("The aid to Afghanistan?"), but Michael won't be dissuaded.

Michael: "No, I mean Afghanistanis with AIDS."
Phyllis: "Afghani."
Michael: "What?"
Phyllis: "Afghani."
Michael: "That's a dog."
Pam: "No, that's ‘afghan.'"
Michael: "That's a shawl."

Dwight and Creed get confused ("Canine AIDS?" "Humans with AIDS." "Who has AIDS?") and Jim explains that it's the Afghanistanannis with the AIDS. Michael is forced to lay down the velvet hammer. "Okay, you know what? No. No. AIDS is not funny. Believe me, I have tried." In interview, Michael explains that there are still certain off-limits areas in comedy. "JFK. AIDS. The Holocaust." He reveals that the Lincoln assassination became funny only recently, and then fails to demonstrate this fact. ("I need to see this play like I need a hole in the head.") And...I don't know where exactly he's going with this, but I think he's skipping a step or two: "I hope to someday live in a world where a person could tell a hilarious AIDS joke. It's one of my dreams." That is beautiful.

Jim picks up his messages from reception, and Pam gets shuffly when he asks what she's up to, because she's looking at wedding band videos. (Last week, things got ugly when Jim was revealed to be very irritated by the constant wedding planning. Which of course it is, regardless, but then also, you know, the Love.) He flips it around on her as an apology, and asks to be a part of choosing the band, after she reveals that Roy was supposed to pick but is "concentrating more on the bachelor party now." It's a nice, sweet thing he's doing, and the agreement that they're okay is something you've been waiting all week for. (If the psychic powers snake oil show double act didn't convince you, now they're talking about the wedding directly.) "Pam, these are people who have never given up on their dreams. I have great respect for that. And yes, they're all probably very bad -- and that'll make me feel better about not having dreams." It's not the things he says. "There's a KISS cover band in here," she grins, and he grabs her and the box of tapes all yoink! style, heading for the conference room.

Pam: "I'm pretty happy these days. I'm getting married soon, and I'm getting along with everybody at work."

Jim: "Why did I talk to Jan about transferring? Well, you know...I have no future here."

Pressure? No pressure.

Michael has Darryl in his office (This should be brutal. He's like Stanley with a little extra black on top, Michael-wise.), and they're arguing about how Michael is going to have to forfeit the deposit on some "fire eaters" that Michael ordered. For Casino Night, which is taking place in a paper warehouse.

Michael: "It's Casino Night! Like Las Vegas! There are fire eaters all over the place."
Darryl: "Except my warehouse."
Michael: "Well actually, it's my warehouse."

Remember how intense little kids get about "my property" and what constitutes the proper circumstances under which you could order someone to get off "your property"? This is the kind of situation where Dwight ends up being the voice of reason: "Actually, it's owned by Beekman Properties, and Dunder-Mifflin is four years into a seven-year lease." Hilarious. Michael hisses at Dwight and Dwight says -- in an even tone -- that when Darryl was coming up, Michael said he needed Dwight there for protection. "Nn. Nn. I said...not...that." Smooth. Darryl, heading off on another topic, worries that there's "a lot of stuff down there that could be stolen." I don't know exactly how Tourette's Syndrome works, but I seem to remember from Oprah that the more you don't want to say the thing, the more you have to say the thing. Sounds horrible. "That's ironic," says Michael, and Darryl's jaw drops: "What?" "That you are...afraid." Because he's "from the hood"? To which Michael responds with a simple, but quite eloquent, "Dinkin' flicka." Bested, Darryl sighs. "Dinkin' flicka."

Darryl, resolutely not bursting into hysterical laughter: "I taught Mike some -- uh -- some phrases to help with his interracial conversations. You know, stuff like 'fleece it out,' 'going mach five,' 'dinkin flicka.' You know, things us Negroes say." Michael, with a "gimme some," leans in for a very amazing handshake. "Oh, yeah," Darryl finally laughs to us. "I taught him a handshake, too." I love Darryl.

Out in sales, Dwight tries to move his Dwight bobblehead doll with his mind, gives up, closes his eyes and tries again. Stuff in your living room starts to shake with the effort, but the bobblehead, no dice. Until he remembers the camera, and then he glances around like nothing happened.

Conference room. Jim pops in a tape. Pam, adorably, talks about how hard the decision will be, since all the bands are so awesome. They make small talk about how the wedding should have three stages and a hundred bands, like Lollapalooza, and Jim says her mother would love it. Pam's mother is like a fairy Godmother that sits on her shoulder, eyes twinkling at Jim and waiting for her daughter to figure it out: "She would!" The band cues up. Scrantonicity is the name, "Don't Stand So Close to Me" is their game. They are totally awesome. Pam recognizes Kevin ("On the drums! On the drums!") and Jim just gapes: "Oh my God! That's Kevin! Great song, Kev. Oh my God, he's the drummer and the singer!" They laugh; Pam dances.

"Please don't stand so close to me," Scrantonicity sings.

Kevin: "We really don't do a lot of weddings. We actually don't play in public very often. We're all really hoping that Pam's wedding works out...this could be a turning point for the band." His cuteness defies explanation.

In the conference room, the screen goes crazy Dogtown style, and our kids lose it, screaming wildly. "Haven't seen that since 1983!" Jim jumps up and starts talking about how he's calling a music label right this second and they're totally signing Scrantonicity for the wedding. Pam grabs him playfully and a mock scuffle ensues. Jim protests that if they don't act now they'll lose him to another wedding, and Jim calls out to Kevin through the door she's trying to shut on him, and there is much laughter and horseplay. The Mock Scuffle: Sublimating the hazy, adolescent sexual impulses of girls with poor self-image since fifth or sixth grade.

Pam: "Jim is great. Being with him just takes away all the stress of planning my wedding." Complete the thought! God!

Michael answers his phone on speaker again, which is just so...when you're sitting in the airport, do you look at the guys on their earpieces and try to think about the percentage of them that are actually talking to people versus the people who actually have something to say to the people to whom they're talking? That's speakerphone to me. Which I know is the entire point of this show, but still. Argh! Pam tells him Carol Stills is calling, and he doesn't quite remember who it is. (But we do! It's the real estate agent from the prenominate "Office Olympics," with whose two children Michael made friends on his birthday, not to mention being played by Steve Carell's wife in real life, the incredibly beautiful Nancy Walls.) He tells Pam to put her through, and launches into: "Hey Carol, how goes the real estate biz? Is it real good?" Pam meekly says she hasn't put her through yet.

Pam: "Sometimes I don't put Michael through until he's already said something. I look at it as a practice run for him. He usually does better on the second attempt." It's like, second drink. The Booze Cruise and the Christmas Party both happened after Jim dumped his girlfriend, you know? Maybe he'll do better on a second attempt.

Carol's calling for a signature on Michael's mortgage insurance, and Michael makes incredibly horrible small talk ("Oh, hey, no problemo... Incidentally, love the place. A little bit of a weird smell... It's okay, at Christmas, the tree helped"),and Carol is just trying to get out of there alive. Lots of "great, great" and "Oh, I'm glad." She asks if she can come by, and Michael -- having been shot down by Jan -- brings up Casino Night. "You know what? Why don't you come by? Bring the papers, I'll sign 'em...and then you can stay and have a drink..." She's about to agree when the phone rings on Michael's second line. Jan's on line two.

"Okay, put her through. Jan Levinson, I presume?" Practice run! "Still me. Uh, Jan? Here's Michael."

"You know," Jan stammers -- Stammers! Jan! -- "I -- I thought about it, and you are right." He is? "I could use a little fun, so ... I am going to drive up for your Casino Night." Michael's stunned. "Incidentally," she asks, "What is the charity?" He doesn't even think, just blurts: "AIDS." She pauses, remembers to whom she is speaking, and ends the call with a lovely and definitive "...Okay then." Fabulous! I love Jan. Michael switches back to...oh dear. "Carol? Sorry about that. I just..." She cuts him off ("No problemo!" she says, echoing him; he laughs like it's a shared joke, it's a favor he's doing her), and accepts his invitation. Which it takes her a while to remind him he's even made. "I have to get a sitter, but that shouldn't be a problem," she says, and Michael scratches his head: "Problem... Good... " He somehow manages to get off the phone without using any actual words or phrases, and stares mutely at the camera.

Michael: "...Two queens on Casino Night. I am going to...drop a deuce on everybody." The first time he said that I made a kind of yelping, screamy noise, because I haven't heard anybody say that since I was like, his emotional age. But he says he's going to, and so he is. As is everybody that's bringing two or more dates to Casino Night. I thought it interfered with the parallels to have Katie out of the picture for this, but really, putting Michael into Pam's exact situation does wonders for my sympathy toward her. (And Jenna Fischer's amazing performance, which we'll get to, more than covers the balance.) The only person I really sympathize with completely, though, is Jan, because there are things wrong with Michael that no amount of love will fix, and she knows it, which sucks for her bivalently. (And Roy and Carol, but only because they don't matter; which means, of course, that they don't matter.) I don't hate Pam any more than I hate Jim, but I do hate their weakness, because holding back from love is the one crime you do only to yourself, and that's gross. Vote for yourself, first and last and always, or else you don't deserve her.

Essay 3. Goal Creation And Timelines (Emotive Language): Portray through character study, description, and dialogue the interplay of social and romantic relationships in the office by re-environmenting office culture to a non-work context. Special attention should be paid to non-verbal and background activity. Draw conclusions, think creatively. Be as succinct as possible.

Random footage of people at Casino Night, playing games, cheering, drinking, kissing. Pam and Roy, kissing. Rather loudly. Loud enough. Jim not looking. Michael walks through the crowd; we follow him to greet Carol. He hops around gingerly for a second and then startles her with a weird, spazzy peck on the cheek. Noticing -- for once -- that his behavior is confusing, he swoops in and pecks the other cheek. "That's how we do it in the paper biz. It's European." The thing about naïve boys like him is they assume that, because they have no knowledge of their own, there's no such thing as "knowledge," and facts are less like facts and more like opinions; it's understandable, if maddening, but the end effect is that you feel talked down to, from below.

Dwight approaches, and Michael kisses him on both cheeks as well. Dwight gives Carol a creepy smile, then leans in close and whispers conspiratorially to Michael: "Codename: ReMax is here. No sign of Lan Jevinson." Stealth, thy name is Schrute.

Dwight: "I'm Michael's wingman, I've got his back. Two dates. He's got two dates tonight." He laughs, and then abruptly stops. "My job is to keep Jan away from Carol, and vice versa.

"Michael said: ‘We must deceive them, so as not to hurt them. And in that way, we honor them.'" He nods curtly. They are a very upsetting pair.

Michael offers Carol a drink, telling her that the party's catered by Hooters in such a manner as to convey excitement about this concept. She's mystified. So much has gone on in just a few seconds! He runs off to get her a drink; at a nearby table we see Creed snaking some of a random's poker chips.

Creed: "Oh, I steal things all the time. It's just something I do. I stopped caring a long time ago." Over footage of Creed with his hand up a vending machine, he continues. "You should see how many supplies I've taken from this place. Honestly...I love stealing things." This last with more glee than I've ever seen on his face.

Billy from Beekman, the property management guy in the wheelchair that Michael freaked out on when he cooked his foot, is at a gaming table. His hot girlfriend takes off for a drink, and Michael approaches. Poor Billy. "Billy, your nurse is hot!" Clearly his girlfriend. "Your nurse became your girlfriend? Sweet!" She was never his nurse, of course. "I met her at Chili's. She was my waitress." And Michael smoothly ends the conversation in about the awesomest way ever: "Chili's is great," he says, and then...wanders away. Billy pretends Michael never existed.

"Willkommen!" Michael screams, in the middle of the casino. "Bienvenue! And welcome! To...Monte Carlo!" He tosses some Black Cats on the ground, startling a few and irritating many. "Dwight!" Michael hisses, and the lights go dim. "I am no longer your boss!" He pulls out some glow sticks. What is he doing? "Lady Fortune is your boss!" He starts waving the glow sticks around. He looks completely insane. Stanley says, in that low voice of his, "Will Lady Fortune give me a raise?" and Michael murmurs pissily, "Shut it, shut it, shut it." The glow sticks are still going. Michael Scott is like the coolest person alive sometimes. "Will Lady Fortune be your mistress? Only time will tell, my friends. Leave all your preconceived notions about casinos at the door..." -- which I'm still trying to figure out what that means, exactly -- "Old friends! New lovers! [Kelly looks at Ryan, Ryan looks away.] And the disabled! [Nobody looks at Billy, Billy looks at nobody.] Welcome all!" And just like that, it's over. "Great. Okay. Shuffle up and deal." The lights come back on, Lady Fortune is somewhere around here, "Let's get it started," Michael finishes. And to the camera he says, beautifully: "Black-Eyed Crows." For every Yankee Swap, there's a Black-Eyed Crow, and you can't leverage shit like that. Love's a gamble.

Toby and Michael are at a Hold 'Em table, giving the scene an immediately apocalyptic feeling. I love Toby, and I love Michael, but I do not love Toby and Michael. I come from a long line of fighters, but my blood pressure cannot take them together. Toby's dealt two Jacks; across the table, Michael immediately goes all in, surprising Carol and causing everybody but Toby to fold (a winning strategy both for game play, and for making friends at the table).

Michael: "Bluffing is a key part of poker. Which is too bad, because...I am not very good at bluffing." He breaks into a toolish, gleaming smile. "...Did you believe me?"

Toby calls; I get very very nervous. Michael accuses him of being insane, and Toby says, in that soft and offhand way in which he says anything, that he's got good cards. "Well, Toby, I went all in on the first hand, so doesn't that tell you that I might have good cards too? So don't be stupid, just take it back." The dealer tells him that's not happening, and Michael's like, "Whatever." Toby reveals his two Jacks, Michael viciously flips his cards and scoots away from the table, running away with a barely intelligible but very heartrending "You really scr -- ...You really screwed that up!"

(As much as it upsets my heart and disturbs my biorhythms, I kind of love it, because the reason Michael hates Toby is that authority always calls your bluff, and the fact that it can back this up is what keeps authority strong. So to have Toby, the voice of corporate authority in the office, literally call Michael's literal bluff...I mean, that's like finding out that vampires actually do live in the creepy house down the street. Brilliant.)

Toby, as Oscar and Meredith congratulate him on his winnings: "I don't really play cards, but...I'm not gonna lie to you. It felt really good to take money from Michael. Gonna chase that feeling." Something else that's true about authority.

Dwight, who's playing at a table with Phyllis and Jim: "I expect to do very well tonight. I have an acute ability to read people. Jim, for instance, has a huge tell. When he gets a good hand, he coughs." Jim coughs, at the table, and raises. Dwight sighs incredibly dramatically, and folds.

Jim, with a face the cuteness of which is not for describing on paper, but with a weird, smug little act-out on the shot that I don't like: "It's the weirdest thing. Every time I cough, he folds."

Carol walks up to Michael, all, "Sucks that Toby called your bluff as usual," and Michael tosses it off, half-addressing the camera: "You know what? If luck weren't involved, I would always be winning." And before you can say, "Who is Phil Hellmuth, why does he look like that, and why does he act so much like Michael Scott, who is a fictional dillweed," -- which is, admittedly, a mouthful -- Lady Fortune strikes again. Jan enters Casino Night! Threat Level Midnight!

Michael goes into meltdown and prayer. Jan advances, looking like a million bucks, and Michael starts spewing incomprehensibles immediately: "Look, okay, I think we're all adults here, and it has always been my understanding that we have an open relationship..." Jan's plausible deniability is like this expensive perfume from France that she wears at all times: "What are...wait. What are you talking about?" Carol's similarly confused by Michael's crazy talk. He tries again: "After you said you weren't coming, I invited Carol to come, and I don't think that I did anything wrong." Jan shakes her head, still kind of "confused," and shakes Carol's hand. "No. No, you didn't. Hi, I'm Jan? I'm Michael's boss." She offers to grab Carol and Michael drinks, and heads to the bar. As Michael stammers at Carol's quizzical look, Dwight runs up and kisses him on both cheeks again. (If only Ryan counted this week, Michael would have like four dates, at least!) "Jan's here," Dwight "whispers," and Carol just continues to stare.

Craps table. "Gimme the dice," Dwight orders, and Bob Vance, of Vance Refrigeration, calls Dwight "baby" and wishes him luck. Angela strolls up like she has no idea how she got there, and casually asks what Dwight's doing, after wishing him a good evening. "Evening, Angela. This is craps. I need to roll an eight. If I do, everyone wins." "Then," she commands, "Roll an eight." That's how you know he's going to. He thanks her, with a tiny grin; she wishes him quiet luck. He rolls, everyone wins, he kisses her on the cheek. She slaps him and stalks off; he stares after her, shocked. They both smile secretly to themselves. Until they remember the cameras, and then they stop smiling. "Gimme the dice," Dwight says once more.

Jim, Pam, and Kevin sit at a poker table. Pam checks out her cards and smirks adorably; Jim calls bullshit. "Yeah, right." She grins innocently: "'Yeah, right,' what?" The last time they played this coyly was at Chili's. Jim imitates her grin and eye roll, and she laughs. "I have good cards!" Really? "Mm-hmm. And I'm going to take you all in." She pushes her chips in; Jim accuses her of bluffing. She shrugs, he squints cutely, she glows, he laughs. He goes all in. The question's always been who's really bluffing here, and why. It's not what they say. Kevin: "Yeah, I think she's full of it." Jim smiles. (I high-five Kevin.) Pam flips her cards, apologizing sincerely and sweetly. "Straight." Jim produces his three nines, and everyone claps for Pam. She's got all the cards; she's always had all the cards. Is it really bluffing, if the problem is you? Everybody cheers for Jim, simply because he's Jim, and now he's out of chips. Pam scoops them in.

Jan orders a Cosmo, Carol comes up beside her and asks for red wine. That's somehow perfect. "So, uh...so, two hours. That's a long drive," Carol says. Brave opening, Stills. Jan calls it "part of the job," and they laugh: "Why not?" Why not drive five hours total for a lame and illegal Scranton Casino Night? Jan glances at the camera before asking, casually, "So...how long have you and Michael been, um..." Carol takes a second before she gets the question, and then stammers a bit. "I guess this would be our first date, I guess." Behind them, Michael sees them talking, and hightails it the other way. "Casino Night in the warehouse!" breathes Jan. Oh, Jan! That's my girl. "Good sport," she says, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Like they don't all know what's going on here. Like suddenly the reality of Michael Scott holding all the cards for once hasn't taken us all by surprise. Like he hasn't dropped a deuce on everybody. "Well," Carol pronounces carefully, with just the hint of an edge on it, "I'm having a nice time." And Jan nods, and sips her drink. "Oh, me too. Me too."

Creed steals some guy's chips; Jim stirs his drink at the bar. Ryan approaches. "One beer, and one...7&7 with eight maraschino cherries, sugar on the rim. Blended if you can." Jim turns to Ryan: "So...that's still going on, huh?" Ha!

Michael's the shooter at the craps table, which is how you know he's going to screw it up. He's trying to roll a four; he holds them up for Carol to blow on them, almost rolls, and then stops himself. He turns to Jan: "Also you. Not playing favorites." Jan does nothing whatsoever; Michael smoothes it out. "All right! Here we go! Yeah!" He rolls a five, everybody's disappointed. "So close," Michael says. "So close."

Dwight, disappointed by the roll, turns to Jan. "So, uh...Where are you staying? Radisson? Super 8? Motel 6? Best Western?" He's unstoppable. Jan can't even answer him, just blurts parts of words. "Holiday Inn? The Hyatt in Wilkes-Barre?" Jan remembers the camera, looks straight at us. "...Are you staying with Michael?" Jan stares at Dwight; offscreen, Michael shouts, "All right!"

Kevin looks at his cards, wearing a big gold high-roller wristwatch: "I won the 2002 $2,500 No-Limit Deuce to Seven Draw Tournament at the World Series of Poker in Vegas. So, yeah. I'm pretty good at poker." I...don't know what any of those words mean. I know "world" and I know "limit," but not necessarily in that context. Kevin goes all in; Phyllis is cute and giddy: "Okay, let's do it!" Bob Vance, of Vance Refrigeration, wishes her luck, and she smiles sweetly at him. "Oh, thank you, Bobby, but it doesn't matter. It's just fun to play." Kevin's got three queens. Phyllis has an ace, but Oscar recognizes her flush. "I have a flush! Look, I won. Look, I have all the clovers!" Phyllis shouts. Kevin looks destroyed even as she's asking if he wants to play again.

Kevin: "I suck."

Later, Kevin's having a beer. Roy approaches: "She took you down, huh?" And Kevin, in an exhausted and pitiable tone: "I do not want to talk about it." Roy -- I think just out of a straight-up inability to deal with Kevin's depression -- brings up Scrantonicity. "You guys rock! You want to play our wedding?" Kevin's the Kevin version of overjoyed: "Awesome. Did Pam say it was okay?" And if you thought you detected a little bit of annoyance in Roy's tone here, you're probably too smart to be engaged to him for umpteen million years, too: "Whatever, I'm in charge of the music." Kevin daps him: "Dude, you will not be sorry." Roy pats Kevin on the back, as he's leaving. Kevin smiles wonderfully into the camera.

Outside, Jan leans back against a car, smoking a cigarette. I mean, seriously. When the joke's on you, and it happens on-camera, and Dwight is in on the joke? You get to smoke. It's in the union rules. Jim joins her; she offers him a cigarette. I love her because she honestly sees what Jim, and Pam, are capable of. Way better than they do. For that alone, you could love her. Jim leans on the car to her and asks if she's having "fun." She answers sarcastically -- "Fabulous time" -- and then gets real. "I drove...two and a half hours to get here." Jim starts into some speech about how great they all think it is to have her there, and she continues on her monologue. "...Left work early, drove down here. And I ... I -- I am completely underdressed." He tells her she looks great, which she does, and she just sighs. Without looking up at him: "Why did I hook up with Michael?" Ooohh, I've had this conversation with a boss before. It's teenage suicide. Don't do it!

Jim smiles at Jan: "Yeah! Why did you?" She still doesn't look up. "It was very late, Jim. Very...very late. And, uh...have you given any more thought to the transfer?" Playtime is over. Not that they've changed subjects. He says he has. She thinks it's a good idea, clearly. "Have you told anyone? You should." Agreed.

Inside, Angela notices Creed stealing poker chips. (If she's judgmental about it, I can't tell, because the judgmental that she always already is approaches infinity.) A few minutes later Bob Vance of Vance Refrigeration -- with Phyllis at his side, looking lovely with a flower in her hair -- announces that the "big moment" has arrived. "The evening's chip leader, and winner of this beautiful mini-refrigerator, courtesy of Vance Refrigeration ... Creed Bratton, Dunder-Mifflin." Creed makes his way to the front, shaking chips from his cuffs as he goes. He shakes Bob's hand and grabs the fridge. "Thanks. I never owned a refrigerator." Bob Vance, confused and a little worried, begins the applause.

Pam stands by Roy's truck window as he apologizes to her. "I am just beat," he sighs. She tells him it's okay, she'll meet him at home, and they joke around a bit about her losing money, "...In case you still want a honeymoon." Dude, Roy could say, like, "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me and I would lay down my life for you," and I would still somehow hear it like a horrible assault on all that is good and right. Pam laughs, he starts the truck up, and he calls out to Jim -- who's walking past the other window, which is to say that Roy is, onscreen, directly between Pam and Jim -- to keep an eye on her. They say a friendly goodbye, Pam smiles after.

Essay 4. Communication Skills (Non-Verbal Language): Display your ability to think "outside the box" by describing in detail the body language and extra-textual meaning behind common workplace interactions. Bonus points for including uncommon -- but nevertheless inevitable, not to say inexorable -- situations.

"Hey," Pam grins at Jim, who's probably relieved to see a friendly face after the whole Jan thing; who's probably happy to have Pam here, again, without Roy there. It's like, second drink. "Hey, how's it going?" Pam cocks her neck cutely and says it's been especially awesome since she took all his money in poker. "Ha-ha, yeah," he says. "Can I talk to you about something?" She does a cute little dance for him: "...About when you wanna give me more of your money?" No. "Did you wanna do that now?" No. "We can go inside. I'm feeling kinda good tonight." He looks away. "I was just, um..." She waits for the return serve, for the joke that always comes logically in this sequence. She waits, and he meets her eyes: "I'm in love with you."

The urban legend was that somehow Jenna Fischer didn't get these pages; that her shock and surprise were real. That is, as far as I know, a falsehood. But I believed it that night.

"I'm really sorry if that's weird for you to hear. But you needed to...hear it." Her heart, her breath. "...Probably not good timing. I know that, I just --" And she's reacting with horror, out of fear, and you can't blame her, because if it's always what they don't say, and then you say it, then all of a sudden the inside part comes outside, then you're asking questions too big and putting way too much light on the thing. You're not holding up your end of the deal. "What are you doing?" You know exactly what the hell I'm doing, says Jim's posture, the tilt of his head. "What do you expect me to say to that?" He needed her to know, once. "Well. I, um...I -- I can't?" And he nods.

"You have no idea..." she begins, and he begs her: "Don't do that." "...What your friendship means to me." He shakes his head, asking her to stop. "Come on. I don't wanna do that. I wanna be more than that." But she can't. The tears in his eyes are the brightest things onscreen.

"I'm really sorry if you misinterpreted things," she continues, in this hushed tone. Like it's a secret that would tear down all the night if she said it too loud. She's not wrong. "It's probably my fault." A tear rolls down his cheek. He wipes it away. "Not your fault. I'm sorry if I misinterpreted that...our friendship." This last tossed off in desperation -- still so quiet, both of them -- as he walks around her, trembling, back toward the building. She touches her ring, looks down at it. Cameras forgotten.

Essay 5. Concluding Your Sample (Multiple Channels of Language): Each episode of The Office generally ends with a voiceover monologue -- usually delivered by Mr. Michael Scott, Regional Manager -- which redefines, or clarifies, the central thesis of the episode, often through ironic statements or juxtapositions. (See: "Irony," below.)

Jan walks up to Michael and Carol with muscle in her step. "Hey. I'm leaving." He greets her, brightly. The neatest thing about Michael and Jan is how he just completely likes her, even under the misogyny and power stuff, even as he vents his spleen on Toby, he knows enough to know she's awesome. And vice versa. "So," Jan says, which counts as a qualifier when it's her. Weak speech. "...I just wanted to congratulate you on a fantastic evening. Did the company proud." She laughs, but there's no joy in it. Nothing like her smile that night. Michael thanks her, and in return she thanks him: "You were right, I needed it." Is it really bluffing if the problem is you? Michael, anxious to get her out of his face, trading a sure thing for a scary thing, a Roy for a Jim, thanks her for coming.

"Nice to meet you," Jan says to Carol. "And, uh...you guys have a...have a good time together." It's painful. I won't cry for Michael this week because there won't be anything left. "Okay," he smiles. "Talk to you Monday." Yep. Carol says goodbye; Jan leaves. Michael calls her a "good boss." She "seems really nice," according to Carol. And Michael says: "Oh, she's great."

Michael: "Love triangle. Drama. All worked out in the end, though! The hero got the girl. Who saw that coming?" Beat. "I did. And Jan is really happy for me..." Jan walks, less muscle than shiver in it now, to her car. "...So, actually, the hero got two girls. He got the girl that he works with, and he got the girl that he buys real estate from." Jan gets into her car; spots the overnight bag on the passenger seat. My stomach dropped ten feet. "So, I've got my New York girl...and my local flavor." She gives a silent Charlie Brown (AUUGH!) and piledrives the bag into the backseat. "Life is good."

And the parallel's complete, and the story's over: the Roys and Carols win, because the Michaels and Pams suck. But also because the Jans and Jims are weak, and afraid of calling anybody's bluff. So it's like Closer, or Lolita: everybody gets exactly what they want. Which is Hell. See you bitches season!

Bonus Essay (Creative Expression): Now that the episode has ended, according to the usual formula, feel free to doodle inside this box, taking your inspiration from the following exchange, recorded in the episode "Booze Cruise":

Michael: "Well, if you like her so much, uh ... don't give up."
Jim: "She's engaged."
Michael: "BFD. Engaged ain't married."
Jim: "Huh."
Michael: "Never, ever, ever give up."

(A: Michael Scott.)

Pam leans against a desk. It's not her desk, at reception. It's a sales desk, to Dwight's desk, outside Michael's office; it's Jim's desk. She is speaking in a low, quiet voice, almost inaudibly, into Jim's telephone. The room is almost entirely dark, with only a few scattered lamps, lit dim, to scare the night away.

"About ten minutes ago.
"No, I didn't know what to say.
"Yes, I know.
"Um, I don't know, Mom.
"He's my best friend.
"Yeah, he's great."

"...Yeah, I think I am."

Jim enters the office, head down, back straight. Strong, like a man. Pam spots him.

"Um, I have to go." She hangs up the phone, still so quiet, as he walks toward her. "I will."

Pam hangs up the phone and turns to him; he's a little closer than she must have judged. "Listen, Jim..."

And puts his arms around her, and his lips on hers. And she brings her arms up, startled, and she leans in, and puts her hands around his head, his face. And she kisses him back. And when she pulls away, he kisses her, just a bit more. And she steps back, and he steps back. And they look.