Kapitel 9: S3 E2.3: The Convention

Later at the convention, the atmosphere was abuzz with the usual chatter and excitement as people milled about, visiting various booths. Michael, ever the showman, was in his element as he stood at the Hammermill booth, promoting what he dubbed the "Scranton v. Stamford Paper Airplane Showdown." The booth had created a large ring for people to try and throw paper airplanes through.

Meanwhile, Seras had decided to take a different approach to keeping an eye on Michael. She had disappeared a few minutes earlier, only to reappear high above the convention floor, perched in the rafters like a watchful guardian. From her vantage point, she could see the entire convention, observing everything and everyone with a keen eye. The view was interesting, to say the least, and Seras found herself enjoying the unconventional perspective. After all, Jan had told her to watch over him, and she was taking that request quite literally.

As two branch managers began folding their paper airplanes, Dwight, ever the loyal assistant, tried to interject. "Michael, you're doing it wrong. The folds need to be sharper, more aerodynamic. Let me show you how—"

But before Dwight could finish his sentence, a small squishy ball from Office Depot, the one Seras had snagged earlier, came tumbling down from the rafters. It bounced off the edge of the booth, narrowly missing Dwight's head by mere inches.

Dwight jumped back, startled. "What the—where did that come from?"

Michael, too focused on his airplane, barely noticed. "Probably just gravity, Dwight. It happens."

The ball quickly disappeared from view before Dwight could do anything about it, thanks to Seras, who had been watching the whole scene unfold from her perch above. She had moved just out of sight, suppressing a grin as she kept an eye on the ongoing competition.

Josh took the first throw. His plane flew smoothly, gliding through the air before grazing the edge of the ring and bouncing off. The crowd let out a collective "ooh," clearly impressed by the near miss.

Michael, not to be outdone, stepped up next. He took a deep breath, aimed carefully, and released his plane. It wobbled slightly before somehow turning around and nosediving straight into the ground right by his feet.

Michael, trying to save face, quickly added, "Double or nothing? Come on, guys, one more round!"

But Jim and Josh had already moved on, heading off to other business. Michael called after them, but they just waved, clearly amused.

As the crowd dispersed, a man in hammermill products approached Michael, noticing his disappointed expression. "Tough break, any way you want to talk about the new products Hammermill has to offer."

************************

A few minutes later, in Michael's hotel room. Michael, leaned back in his chair and sighed looking at the camera. "Jim and I have different definitions of friendship, I think it's talking and being friends, and Jim thinks it's moving to Connecticut and being best friends with Josh. Well... phooey on that, I...I'm done, I'm not going to be speaking with him anymore, whatevs, long-distance relationships never work."

The Hammermill rep nodded, listening intently. "That is so true ... Ready"

Michael swirled his mixed drink, having dipped into the party supplies early. "mmhm"

The rep reached for his binder with the hand not holding his mixed drink while Michael continued. "Let me tell you what we are looking for

As Michael and the rep delved into a more serious discussion about business, Dwight was still out on the convention floor, dutifully gathering all the swag he could find that Michael might have missed. But as he did so, the squishy ball from earlier kept appearing near him—on a table, rolling underfoot, even bouncing off a display stand—each time making him more and more paranoid.

"Who's throwing that?" Dwight muttered to himself, his eyes darting around suspiciously. "I know someone's messing with me."

From her hidden vantage point, Seras watched Dwight's increasing paranoia with a mischievous grin. She was enjoying this little game, dropping the ball as close to him as she could without actually hitting him, just to see his reactions.

Finally, after the ball narrowly missed him for the fourth time, Dwight spun around, shaking his fist at the air. "I know you're out there! Show yourself!"

Seras, still out of sight, chuckled softly to herself. Dwight's reactions were even better than she had hoped.

**************************

Later that evening, the Dunder Mifflin convention attendees gathered in the hotel lobby, chatting and winding down after a long day of networking and business deals. The atmosphere was relaxed, with people exchanging stories and laughs.

Michael entered the lobby a bit later than the others, looking slightly disheveled but with a wide grin on his face. He quickly approached the group, eager to share his news.

"Sorry I'm late, everyone," Michael announced, catching their attention. "I was tied up in a meeting."

Jan, ever the skeptic, raised an eyebrow. "Really, Michael? A meeting? Are you sure that's what it was?"

Michael nodded enthusiastically, puffing out his chest a bit. "Yep, a meeting with Hammermill."

Josh, who had been casually sipping his drink, looked up with a hint of surprise. "Hammermill? They're exclusive with Staples, Michael. What kind of meeting was this?"

Michael's grin widened as he reveled in the moment. "They used to be. But Evan—great guy, by the way—will call you in the morning to work out the details. We can now sell Hammermill products."

There was a brief silence as the weight of Michael's words sank in. Dwight, ever the loyal soldier, was the first to react. He jumped up from his seat, fist-pumping the air. "Yes! That's what I'm talking about!"

Seras, who had been watching from the sidelines, walked over and gave Michael a solid pat on the back, her usual smirk on her face. "Nice work, Michael."

Jan, clearly impressed despite herself, looked at Michael with newfound respect. "I have to admit, Michael, I underestimated you."

Michael, never one to miss an opportunity for a comeback, grinned even wider. "Well, Jan, maybe now you'll properly estimate me."

As the group continued to chat, congratulating Michael on his unexpected success, the camera cut to Jim, who was walking down the hallway towards Dwight's room. He had a mischievous look on his face, the result of a plan he had concocted earlier in the day. With a copy of Dwight's room key in hand, Jim was ready to pull off one of his classic pranks.

He reached Dwight's door, hesitated for just a moment, then quietly slid the key into the lock. The door clicked open, and Jim cautiously stepped inside, only to hear a voice call out, "D..."

It was a woman's voice, and she was clearly in the middle of saying Dwight's name. But the shock of hearing that single syllable from what was undoubtedly a naked woman caused Jim to jump back into the hallway, closing the door. His eyes widened in horror as the realization hit him.

"Oh my God," Jim loudly to the camera, starting to quickly walk down the hallway "Dwight got a hooker. Oh my God, I gotta call... I don't know, I gotta call someone. Dwight got a hooker."

*******************

Later that night, Michael was lounging in his hotel room, preparing for what he had confidently declared would be the "party of the century." He had set out a few bottles of liquor and was ready to play the music.

A knock on the door brought a big smile to Michael's face. He jumped up, eager to start the festivities. Swinging the door open, he greeted the man standing there with enthusiasm.

"Hey! First guest of the night! You are going to have some tequila, my friend!" Michael exclaimed, already reaching for the bottle on the table.

The man, looking a bit confused, gave Michael a polite smile. "Uh, I heard there was supposed to be a party here. Is this Room 308?"

Michael nodded eagerly, pouring a shot of tequila into a small plastic cup. "That's right! This is the place to be. Party central, come on in, grab a drink, and let's get this thing started!"

The man glanced around the room, taking in the somewhat underwhelming setup. "So, is anyone else coming? I thought it was going to be, you know, more of a crowd."

"They'll get here, its a party" But before Michael could protest, the man turned around and quickly left, leaving Michael standing in the doorway.

********************

Jim entered the room to a flashing light and a loud, synth-heavy song blaring from Michael's makeshift sound system. The unmistakable theme from "Girls Gone Wild" filled the space, creating an awkward contrast to the empty room. Michael sat alone on a chair, his expression a mix of forced cheerfulness and irritation.

"Michael," Jim said, flipping on the lights as he entered, "am I the first to arrive?"

Michael looked up, his mood barely improving. "People have been filtering in and out..." he trailed off, clearly annoyed, though Jim couldn't immediately tell why.

Jim frowned, sensing something off. "Can I get a drink?" he asked, trying to keep things light.

Michael perked up slightly. "Sure. Do you like cosmos?"

Jim, caught off guard by the offer, shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

As Michael began to mix the drink, he looked up at Jim with a sudden intensity. "So, why are you here? Is Josh busy?"

Jim, confused by the question, asked, "Did I do something? You seem... upset."

As this conversation unfolded, Seras quietly slipped into the room, her presence going unnoticed as she moved to a corner, taking in the tension between the two men. She stayed silent, recognizing that they were dealing with something personal.

Michael didn't answer directly. Instead, he kept repeating, "I get it," as he continued making the drink. "You made a better paper airplane, Stamford does better in sales, I get it. We had some fun, we had some laughs..."

Jim, realizing what was bothering Michael, interrupted him. "Michael, I didn't transfer because of you. You're a good boss, a great boss. I transferred because of Pam."

Michael paused, his expression softening. "She's single now, you know."

Jim sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. "Yeah, but I kinda put it all on the line already."

Michael, ever the optimist, tried to encourage him. "So? Try again!"

Jim shook his head, his voice tinged with regret. "Twice, actually. And she said no... twice."

Michael walked over to Jim, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, man. I'll talk to her."

Jim quickly shook his head, trying to dissuade him. "No, Michael, you really don't have to—"

But Michael was insistent. "No, I will. She needs to know."

Just then, the Hammermill reps walked in, interrupting the moment. "Are we early?" one of them asked, looking around the room.

Michael, immediately switching back to host mode, introduced them to Jim. "No, no, perfect timing! Jim, these are the guys from Hammermill."

The reps exchanged polite greetings. "Do you guys work together?" one of them asked, looking between Jim and Michael.

Jim nodded. "We used to. We're friends now."

Michael then tacked on. "Best friends"

One of the reps then pointed to Seras. "And who is she?"

Michael, quick on his feet, replied without hesitation, "Oh, she's here to keep an eye on me. You know, family stuff."

As Michael started pouring drinks for the Hammermill reps, Jim walked over to Seras, lowering his voice. "How long were you listening?"

Seras gave a small smile. "I heard everything. Don't worry, I'll make sure Michael doesn't say anything to Pam."

Jim looked relieved. "Thanks, Seras. I appreciate that."

Seras then smirked. "I said nothing about me however."

Michael, meanwhile, turned the music back on and, with a mischievous grin, offered Seras a drink. "Come on, one drink won't kill anyone."

Seras, recalling her earlier conversation with Dwight, raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to get the superweapon who's under 21 drunk?"

Michael laughed, dismissing her concern. "One drink won't kill anyone."

"That's where you could be wrong." With a shrug, Seras took the drink and sipped it. She pretty instantly realized that alcohol didn't affect her, just like the various poisons that a few terrified cooks had tried to slip her at the facility. She set the glass down, not too amused about the most recent discovery, but at least the city wouldn't be destroyed if she had a little too much to drink.

As the evening wore on, Michael, feeling more at ease, challenged one of the Hammermill reps to a game of darts. He picked up a dart and aimed it at the board, but his aim was off. Way off. The dart flew through the air and embedded itself directly into the room's TV screen with a loud crack.

The room fell silent as everyone stared at the ruined TV. Michael, trying to salvage the situation, forced a laugh. "Well, that's one way to end the night!"