For Internal Use Only - Please Do Not Forward

Email Surveillance

Sloane gave a single nod. "Yeah."

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DWIGHT
I think one of the greatest things about modern America is the computerization of medical records.
As a volunteer sheriff, I can look up anyone's psychiatric records or surgical histories.
Yeast infections.
There are a huge number of yeast infections in this county.
Probably because we are down river from that old bread factory.

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Sloane stood by the door of the breakroom, arms crossed. She tilted her head slightly toward Angela, who was by the vending machine.

"Go," Sloane said flatly.

Pam blinked. "Why can't you—"

"Just do it."

Pam hesitated, then slightly gasped as Sloane gave her the lightest nudge forward. "Ookay—Hey, Angela!"

Angela turned with a flat, "Hi."

Pam gave a strained smile back. "How's it going?"

"It's okay."

"Listen, are you bringing anyone to Jim's party tonight?"

Angela's expression didn't change. "No. Are we supposed to?"

"No. I mean, I don't know. I don't think so."

Angela nodded once. "Hmm."
She stepped forward, brushing past Pam to reach into the vending machine.

"Excuse me."

Pam stepped aside. Angela grabbed two Baby Ruths and walked out without another word.

Pam turned back to Sloane, frowning in defeat.

"At least you faced your fears."

Through the blinds, the camera zoomed in on Michael standing stiffly, peeking through the slats like a dad spying on his kid's sleepover. He scanned the kitchen suspiciously, watching his employees eat lunch without him.

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MICHAEL
There's always a distance between a boss and the employees. It is just nature's rule. It's intimidation mostly, it's the awareness that they are not me.
I do think that I am very approachable, as one of the guys. But maybe I need to be even approachabler.

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Kevin, Jim, Pam, Ryan, and Sloane were gathered at the small table, picking through plastic containers and vending machine snacks.

Kevin scooped peanut butter onto a cracker. "That's pretty young."

Pam nodded. "Yeah."

Michael suddenly entered, holding a steaming styrofoam cup. His smile was too big.

Kevin looked up. "Are you gonna eat with us?"

"Of course," Michael said, making his way to the already full table. "Hangin' with my crew. Crew that I am one of."

He squeezed into a nonexistent space, bumping shoulders and awkwardly hovering over his Cup of Noodles like it was a prize.

"This is a meal in a cup," he declared. "Hot. Tasty. Reminds me of college. Lived on this stuff. Brain food. Mmmm."