Jim sighed. The client's account he was looking at - Mr. Boughton, a reliable customer - was seemingly the same as it had been last month. And the month before that. For two long years, Jim had been staring his computer screen, making small talk to people he didn't like, and putting up with Michael. This had only been a temporary job, until he could raise enough to make a decent start on college, but with the rent on his shared apartment, and the cost of living, he had barely saved a pittance.

Michael had been more excitable than usual this morning. He had received a call from Packer earlier; something which always seemed to bring out the worst in him. When the rest of the office heard the unmistakable cry emanating from Michael's desk ("Packster! Who did you bang today, P-Dog?") there was a noticeable groan from several desks.

Michael had exited his office, looking like a guilty puppy. He sidled up to Jim's desk. Jim's best efforts to ignore him failed, and he resignedly hung up the phone from his non-existent phone call. At first, Michael's failed attempts at humour and political correctness were refreshing breaks from the office monotony he had experienced in most of his past jobs; but now, it seemed like the apathy of his co-workers was rubbing off on him. And Dwight, who used to amuse him unintentionally, was becoming unbearable, and Jim didn't know how to deal with him, or Michael. He used to snigger under his breath every time Michael made some offhand comment which would have been more at place coming from a twelve-year-old. Now, he just sighed, and turned to Michael, plastering what he hoped seemed like a mildly interested expression on his face.

"So, Jim-buktu, are you pumped about getting a new receptionist?" Michael asked Jim, with a trademark conspicuous wink.

Jim became a little more interested all of a sudden. He hadn't minded the last receptionist - who, as it turns out, was just a little too normal to be able to take the atmosphere of the office - but the promise of something to break the never-ending cycle of office life was hard to ignore. Suddenly, he was reminded of the last interviews that Michael had conducted.

"Michael. You aren't planning anything... special... for the interview, are you?" Jim asked nervously. He had the vivid image of the last round of interviews for the position of Accounting Manager; Jim could clearly picture an unsuccessful applicant running out of the room with what looked like whipped cream in her eye. Jim had purposefully not asked about that one.

"Oh, maybe. You know me, Jim: I am a flamboiled man!"

"Michael - you remember what happened last time, don't you?"

Michael's face fell. He had had to deal with Corporate; something which he intensely hated to do. for good reason: Jan Levinson-Gould, his superior, generally failed to see the humour in his managerial style.

"Well, not this time, Jimmy James. I have perfected my act. I was watching that show, Magician's Secrets, on HBO last night, and I came up with the perfect act! Which reminds me - do you know if there are knives in the kitchen sharp enough to stick in my office wall?"

Oh, crap. Jim knew he would have to avert this disaster. The onus of trying to prevent Michael from making any real disasters generally fell on him; while the rest of the office loathed or disliked Michael in varying degrees (with a notable exception in Dwight), none realised what the office would be like with a new boss. He had experienced the truly average workplace, and it wasn't something he really wished to return to. It was one of the reason he didn't quit a year ago.

"Ahh... Michael. Do you think you could take me on a sales call today? For old time's sake?" Jim rushed, grasping at straws.

"Who would do the interviews?"

"Uh... Toby?" Jim replied without thinking, instantly realising his mistake.

"Ugh. I don't think I can be that cruel, even to people I don't know."

"OK." Jim thought desperately. What could he do? He didn't particularly relish the thought of calling Jan before Michael impaled some defenceless girl on his wall, but he knew he would have to resort to that rather than letting him go though with it. His mind alighted on an idea. "Michael, you really are a great boss. You know what I think is so great? The way you combine comedy with investment in human capital."

Michael's blank look was quickly replaced by one of supposed recognition. "Yes. I have always prided myself on... that."

"Well," Jim continued, "I was wondering if you would let me feel what it is like to be in your shoes. I mean, I hope one day when you have moved on to bigger and better places, I could possibly try to fill your place."

"Well, that is very hopeful of you Jim. But I don't think anyone could really fill my place-"

"Oh, I know," Jim cut in, correcting his mistake. "I mean, I hope that I could learn off you, and maybe one day create myself in your own image."

"Well, of course you would feel like that, Jim. It is natural."

"So, I was wondering whether I could conduct the interviews, just for today."

"That's... but what about my tricks?" Michael asked, clearly torn.

"You know who would love to see them? Dwight. Besides, all great magicians need to practice before performing to a real audience."

"You're right!" Michael's smiled. "So, the girls are coming in at two."

"Girls?" Jim groaned inwardly. He should have suspected. "Michael, did you call back any guys for this job?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because women are better at it." Michael's expression looked troubled for a moment, and then cleared. "And that is not sexist. Because it is a true compliment. People like to hear a sultry woman's voice when they ring a paper company." Michael smiled, and triumphantly returned to his office, leaving Jim staring at his closed door.

Jim let his breath out. It looked like he had averted this disaster, for a while at least. He momentarily hoped Michael wouldn't poke out one of Dwight's eyes, but not with much conviction. His mind turned to the imminent interviews. Well, he had asked for an end to the monotony, hadn't he?

A/N: Well, this is my first FanFic since some embarrassing stabs at the age of twelve. Sorry if my attempt at the Jim/Michael dialogue is a little odd. I am not really a comedic writer, and obviously inferior to the writers of this great show, but I wanted to make it a little more true to the style of The Office. Reviews of all shapes and sizes are obviously welcome. Next chapter soon!