We Take Five challange
Don’t leave me behind
You lost something at the airport
A Tragic Life in Five Six Parts (aka five six unrelated incidences of loneliness)
i.
Andy volunteered to stay back and sign for a delivery. He doesn’t really get why it’s coming so late, but nobody looks at him when they leave, and Dwight reorganizes the kitchen before slowly walking out the door. The first day was littered with awkward glances and nobody will quite meet his eyes.
At 6:30, he wonders what he would be doing at his apartment. Friday was drinks with his a cappella group back in Stamford. He isn’t friends with anyone from the office (“Fact. I’m onto you.”) and he doesn’t know where the Scranton ladies hang out, so he’d probably just drink - maybe call Michael.
It’s funny being in a brand new town; he doesn’t know the place, or the people, and all the funny mannerisms are seriously lame. Stamford wasn’t a bad town; he knew exactly where the soap he liked was and where all his pals hung out. Now he’s sitting in the office, alone, staring at the carpet by the light of his computer monitor.
The quiet isn’t comforting, and he doesn’t feel like singing (no point without an audience to witness the sexiness), so he drums his fingers on the desk and waits.
At least in Scranton he is totally number three. And he just knows that stuff may be totally lame now, but it will get better. (The apartments here are cheaper, so...score Team Andy.)
ii.
Pam isn’t the last one to leave (and those dreams have faded anyway). She doesn’t mind sitting on the couch alone, or sketching on the dining room table. And she’s actually starting to enjoy hearing the hum of the refrigerator (and sometimes her own heart).
The problem is that rubbing her eyes is getting old, and she feels pressure around her temples whenever she thinks about telling him. She buys a silky shirt and runs her fingers along the seams, imagining that the life before her is as smooth as the fabric. She wants to make this about him, but her stomach doesn’t flutter anymore, and her shoulders relax when they smile, and it’s simple again.
Michael sends her an e-vite to a party for her anniversary (four whole years at Dunder-Mifflin), and her stomach drops.
She looks at jobs in New York and catches herself adding up apartment costs. She can taste possibility and she feels content and the house of cards is more stable than ever.
She wants to be herself again.
Give up an old friend to be herself? Fair trade.
iii.
He cries when Pam leaves because, even though he’s proud, it always hurts when one of the birds leaves the nest. Even though Jan points out that she’s still with Dunder-Mifflin (“For now,” under her breath is a secret he won’t touch), and even though Ryan being up front is nice in a nostalgic way (betrayal notwithstanding), he can’t get rid of the nagging feeling in his gut.
He’s her boss, and if she feels she has a reason to leave, he should fix it. The next week he tries to make a joke of it, but “She bulldozed you with that one, Jimmy” gets a lot of awkward glances, and he chalks it up to them not getting the chemistry between his two lovebirds.
No matter what Jim says, Michael Scott is no fool, no sir-ee. He decides to take a sick day and drive up to see Jan because even though Pam left Jim for fancy New York, it doesn’t mean the same thing will happen to him. He is a champion of true love.
iv.
When he finds out that they are moving he can’t speak. He doesn’t think he should feel angry, but something rises from his toes and for a horrifying moment he thinks his face is red and he might yell and become something strange and out of control.
Instead, he breathes in and asks how far - and how are they going to handle his weekends with Sasha?
He rubs her back and puts her favourite doll on her lap and waves until the blood leaves his arm and he has to stop. He feels like he should want things to be the way they were before, but he doesn’t. Even though being married would mean having his daughter and a home and a routine that didn’t leave him empty, he can’t bring himself to wish for it.
He goes inside and throws out the kitchen chairs, which he picked out because she liked the color of his kitchen, even though they were divorced.
That dream is finally gone. He hopes he finds something else.
v.
He goes with Karen to some camping site his brother recommended because he’d teased her about being tough and she’d called him a softie, so they were braving the wild.
They take her car (the tents fit better), but she lets him drive (“Just to keep your confidence up”), and they laugh at Dwight’s list of camping tips and his top ten threats of the wild.
When they get there, Karen helps him unload, swinging sleeping bags around clumsily and grinning every few minutes and swearing that she just liked the “camping smoke smell”.
He’s really glad that he can laugh and feel grown-up. Even though he’s watching her try to juggle a cooler, her duffel bag, and a sleeping bag, he feels like an adult, like he’s going somewhere.
By the time it’s dark, his fingers are scraped and sore from sticks and baggage and “heavy-lifting”, so they don’t talk, they just watch the fire and the stars and he doesn’t feel like something is between them. (A wall and this isn’t doomed)
He decides not to chase something childish.
vi.
When Mose decides that he wants to go into hypnotic healing (he knew those infomercials would lead to no good), Dwight doesn’t think too much of it. As his cousin lacks the commitment and forceful determination to be successful outside the farm, he feels confident that it will soon blow over. (Angela doesn’t approve either.) Besides, he works on the farm and that’s just the way it is.
Even after a week, when he’s still looking at print-outs and repeating the same unconvincing sales pitches, Dwight knows that the strength of character required to achieve such aims is not present and he will no doubt lose interest.
Eyes focused on the horizon go unnoticed, and when he hears “I’m leaving”, it is really just white noise. The Schrute family has always been here and it will always be here. Leaving would be like deciding to farm potatoes, and who needs potatoes? Not this planet.
But the farm is quiet now, and sometimes he gets phone calls, and it turns out that Mose is working at Staples. (Traitor.) And he doesn’t have a beard anymore, which is weird. But he doesn’t miss him because…whatever...and he doesn’t need anybody.
Prompt: same
Title: Lost Luggage (A lesson in miscommunication)
Author:
quietdecember
Wordcount: ~1600
Fandom: The Office
Pairings: none
Warnings: N/A (K)
Thanks to:
lynettinspaghet,
ficklevillain and everyone else who gave me advice (and thank you Dwight... for being Dwight)
Summary: Dwight is what he is, (whatever that is)
Lost Luggage
a lesson in miscommunication
i want everything this company has to offer…
He wore his new dress shirt, straightened his tie with practiced efficiency, and didn’t smile at the receptionist. He opened the door and walked straight into the manager’s office. (Show no weakness.)
His desk was scattered with papers and other miscellaneous objects that Dwight could only assume served some obscure functional purpose. The manager was new, according to his research (piece of cake), and he had a lopsided grin (suit excellent, hair not bad, handshake adequate).
Hands folded in his lap, he began. This would be too easy.
of course i will succeed…
The car was cold. He’d paid the obligatory compliments and suddenly “first sales call, this is huge for you” is echoing in his ears and he fidgets for a millisecond before regaining control.
He isn’t quite ready, but going on a call with the boss is his chance to prove something. The ladder won’t climb itself, so he clears his throat and looks out the window. He reminds himself to focus on what he wants.
He says exactly thirteen words in the pale blue hallway; they don’t stick out, or sink in, and his stomach drops with failure. (He has a history with that word - don’t ask.) But Michael, who was nervous around him, starts talking and the whole point of this becomes clearer. “Test” and “teach” aren’t the same after all.
They are, of course, completely successful, and he allows a smile to stretch across his face as they march back to the car. (Champions, victorious.) Michael congratulates him on the sale, and a funny tone rises in his voice when he replies. (“Why, thank you, Michael. You were excellent also.”) He turns on the radio in the car - Metallica. He considers it a sign when Michael does a bit of air guitar and sings, “We are the champions.” (Wrong band, wrong song - but still.)
He watches Michael very closely when they get back to the office; he will learn everything from this man.
i have done an excellent job this quarter... i am awesome
A year isn’t very long, and he sells a lot of paper, so things are good. Michael shows him the plaque and the certificate (they stopped making plaques), and the implication hangs in the air around them. Dwight knows that it could be him someday.
The performance review is easy, but “well, it’s settled then” isn’t quite what he expected. He pushes forward, because a good salesman doesn’t stop (that’s what she said), but Michael snaps and he doesn’t understand what happened. (“Jesus, Dwight… just give it a rest.”) Something is caught in his throat, or stuck in his back, and he feels a funny itch like maybe things won’t work out the way he thought.
i do not do that thing...
He has ambitions, which have made certain employees feel threatened. Some people just don’t understand how it works around him. Anyone else would be insulted (“don’t be an idiot”), but Dwight understands and listens and learns.
His desk is neat as he sits up straight and makes call after call, searching for the next customer lucky enough to talk to him. If he concentrates, he can see Michael rearranging the “knick-knacks” (as they are called) on his desk, also working.
When he waits for a fax, or for the receptionist to find a number for him, he holds his breath and uses his psychological powers. He doesn’t tell anyone, but when he reaches green belt (green represents growth; this student possesses a firm foundation), he can tell that it’s working.
you’ll thank me later…
The new salesman has potential, given the right teacher. Goofy grins and rolled sleeves and nervous hands too close to his desk can be fixed - and he knows how to do it. He is determined that this will be his protégé (they’ll make an unstoppable team), because Michael is all well and good, but having the support of an inferior is all but crucial.
Jim is willing to learn, so he squares his shoulders and speaks clearly, hands gripping the paperwork. He lets the newbie stew in his own nervous energy until the parking lot is far behind them and they are finally standing in the cool lobby.
He allows one hand to brush his shoulder, “you’ll do fine, just follow my lead”, and their strategy works and it’s good to be in charge. He retrieves the tape from his pocket (“you can drive”), pushes it in firmly, and reveals a secret. “First sale, it’s unwise to start with something boosting - but maybe next time.”
A shrug means nothing, but everything worked out.
there are multiple things i do not need…
When he reaches Assistant (to the) Regional Manager, things start to matter. Sales are important and he starts working on his own. No Michael, no Jim. Which is good, because he can say what he wants and he doesn’t have to compromise and his car is better and he can play his music as loud as he wants.
He gets the “team feel” from laser-tag victories (it isn’t just a sport). Nothing is more important than the contracts he signs (on paper). So connecting to another salesman can wait for team building. He can intimidate a client with his intensity, and list every price for every type of paper Dunder-Mifflin carries from memory.
He didn’t do a lot of work with anyone anyways. He could succeed his own way; other people messed around on company time.
He still listens to Michael because a true employee radiates their power and Michael Scott is powerful.
i will achieve and also increase production on the farm...
Change is business, so when Michael returns tired and notably rumpled, Dwight reorganizes his contract archive and analyzes the situation. He closed his deals last week (punctuality is next to domination), so he makes a list of new strategies and watches the blinds from the corner of his eye.
It’s been quiet enough (almost too quiet) since the merger. The lighting is the same (he checked), and the coffee is still at the lab, so he puts the change down to emotional imbalance.
Of course Jim would allow his personal life to interfere with things. Not that it’s that bad, but by his mental calculations, the relapse will spell doom for his scheduled calls. The risk of downsizing (or flash floods) is heightened when the path between his desk and reception is fraught with tension (and, no doubt, inappropriate use of company time and resources).
He stays late to finish emailing old clients, keeping one eye glued to Michael’s office. The lights are off, and if he doesn’t leave soon he’ll miss “LOST” - but he knows that a good hunter waits for its prey. So he sits, the glow of his monitor illuminating his face, poised to rush into his office - should the need arise.
some things are meant to be shared…
The airport lost his luggage. So, as (former) A(to the)RM, Dwight lends Michael his toothbrush (“Hygiene in the Office” was an enlightening film). He knows Jim is looking at the camera with that hopeless look on his face, but he realizes “who cares?” because Jim doesn’t ever do anything and who knows what he wants.
Things haven’t really changed. The lighting is still the same (double checks are important) and he moved the plant back to it’s old spot and it’ll take more than one incompetent salesman sitting a few feet from his old seat to change things. Dwight is happy and Jim isn’t and he knows it. So.
He can imagine Michael’s suitcase revolving around on a carousel somewhere far away (airports have poor service, they’ve probably taken everything of value anyway). Around and around. He throws out the toothbrush when he gets it back from Michael, then lends him a new shirt. (A good salesman is nothing if not prepared.)
… if things work out today…(you’re just another day away)
Today is the same as any other day. Nothing unusual. At all.
At lunch he helps Angela from accounting retrieve her change that rolled under the vending machine and she doesn’t look at him when their fingers brush over the counter as she thanks him politely (and distantly)
When he checks his email (periodic checks every 20 minutes to increase efficiency) he has three from Michael and painstakingly replies and mentally calculates the days until the anniversary of his first sale call.
Jim offers to close up so he stays as long as possible to guard his stapler, leaving multiple messages with all his clients. He finally gives in and stares at Jim analyzing his body language for the seven signs of aggression and plotting. He’s found six when Jim glances up (he’s always had appalling reflexes).
“What are you doing Dwight? You can go home you know,”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
He thinks of what he could be doing at home and remembers that he has a guest for dinner.
“Halpert, I’m trusting you this once. Don’t screw it up.”
Jim doesn’t say anything (complete compliance) so he grabs his coat and goes to pick up the special vegetarian Roast Angela recommended (for his guest, not her)
standing appointment at four on Fridays
An agreement meant fulfilling it’s terms without exception. Therefore at four in the conference room he had his opportunity to protest the deliberate malfeasance of certain employees and defend the rigid principles of Dunder Mifflin. He uses his most intense glances and impassioned speeches but it is all wasted (Toby refuses to hear of true crimes)
He walks out every week sometimes victorious, sometimes defeated (a true warrior will always continue).
Let them laugh because he will always keep fighting.
(Did Frodo and Sam give up?)
Hope you enjoy it, comments are appreciated!!