I’m about ready to declare “Chair Model” the best episode of The Office since “The Job”, last season’s finale, even if that’s partly because the first eight episodes of this season aired so long ago I can barely remember them

To heck with it. This was Office gold. And here’s why:

1. It was set primarily in the office. How novel.


2. Michael’s insecurities and baffling social ineptitude drove most of the plot and the humor.


3. There was just a hint of Jim and Pam, but what was there was momentous.


4. I cringed several times, and even found myself covering my eyes once.


5. Scranton Business Park is governed by the heads of the Five Families.

And that barely scratches the surface.

Michael is looking for love in all the wrong places, starting in an office supply catalogue. He wants someone nice and friendly, someone he can be passionate about, someone hot. He does not want to be the one that got away.

If Pam thought Jim had gotten away, she’s in for a shock, because he’s got plans to reel her in for good. Only question is, when? And will she beat him to it?

Kevin’s been through a tough time. He lost his girl. He’s on his second near-identically named Police cover band. And now he has to walk 30 minutes—half a mile to you and me—from his car to his desk. It’s time for a meeting of the bosses, and he’s just the guy to broker that meeting.

Because some people sweat too much for comfort. TMI, my fat friend. (But I hear ya.)

Before we get to it, here is the first deleted scene, which should have been the opening scene, since it explains what’s become of Jan.

The Cold Open was all about exposition, courtesy of Pam and Jim explaining that another Scranton Business Park tenant, W.B. Jones, is renovating and taking up all Dunder Mifflin’s parking spaces. So everyone has to park a half-mile away at a satellite lot.

She and Jim look on the bright side. They got to see a junkyard dog attack the bones of a rotisserie chicken: Nature (she said, adorably. Adorable is a big theme for Pam in this one.).

Everyone else is griping. Andy even lost a penny from his penny loafer. Kevin, though, has it the worst. A large out of shape man should not be made to walk in a suit. I can attest to this.

Inside, Michael’s poring over a chair catalogue and Pam’s prodding him to make a decision. This reminded me of the perfect storm from The Fight when she was after him all day to sign some forms.

Pam: Did you pick a new chair? It’s been a while.
Michael: Pam, when I first opened this catalogue I thought I was just going to be picking out a chair.
Pam: But instead you found something to distract you from ever picking out a chair.

Pam (Talking Head): Michael started the process of selecting a new chair three weeks ago. And normally I wouldn’t care, but he promised me his old chair. It’s way better. It’s won of these. Swoosh. I really want it.

Michael fell in love with the chair model. She’s pretty. Pretty generic, that is. Pam’s prodding won’t ever get him back on track. When he mentions his dinner party, where he swore off woman, she gravely admits she remembers the party.

So it’s confirmed he swore off Jan now that fate, or Pam put the catalogue in front of him.

Michael (TH): What is it like being single? I like it. I like starting each day with a sense of possibility. And I’m optimistic because every day I get a little more desperate. And desperate situations yield the best results.

Of course they do Michael. Meanwhile Creed’s angling for Pam’s old chair. Then he’ll have two chairs, only one to go. Huh? Anyway, the woman on page 85 of the catalogue is a Michael’s template for women he’d like to be set up with.

How about when Andy realizes he left his cell phone in his car. Old Andy would have punched a wall. New Andy just sighs when Phyllis says to call when he gets there so they know he’s OK.

Michael seeks Kevin’s assistance. Kevin is soaking his dogs in the footbath he bought himself in the Yankee Swap Christmas grab bag (presumably). I was really curious to know what Brian Baumgartner had in mind in his myspace blog yesterday, and here it is.

He and Stacey have split. It’s a bitter situation. Michael doesn’t care.

“You don’t deserve her,” he reassures Kevin, who misses the subtle malaprop.

So Michael turns to Oscar Mayer Weiner. I can’t believe he called him that. Oscar probably has lots of liberal girlfriends who know he won’t touch them because of his “condition.” I bet Oscar’s getting a new home theater, courtesy of Dunder Mifflin.

Phyllis suggests her gorgeous, feisty friend Sandy.

Michael: So she’s not jolly or sassy, not like a jolly, sassy opera singer?
Phyllis: No, she’s a professional softball player.
Michael: Ooh, catcher or infield?
Phyllis: I don’t know Michael.
Michael: Is she a dress-wearer or a pants-wearer? Could we share a rowboat? Could a rowboat support her?
Phyllis: What are you asking?
Michael: I think I’m being very clear what I’m asking. Would an average size rowboat support her without capsizing? It bothers me that you’re not answering the question.
Phyllis: No, alright, no. She can’t fit in a rowboat!

Exasperated, Michael blames his dating woes on everyone else. Naturally. So he puts them to work on it. He needs help so he can play ball with his kids before he gets old. And before that happens, he needs to get lucky. (Well he didn’t say lucky.) And that requires love.

He’s a catch, and he’s not going to be the one that got away. Again I ask, huh?

Andy and Kevin make such an unexpectedly great team. They appeal to Michael to deal with the parking problem. He can’t care, try as he may, about their 10 or 30 minute walk from their cars. After all, he’s got an assigned manager’s spot, after all.

He wishes he could help, but he can’t. Well he can, but he won’t. He should maybe, but he shorn’t. What part of shorn’t don’t they understand? He leaves it to them to handle.

Andy: We won’t let you down.
Michael: Well, you can’t because I don’t care.

Stanley doesn’t hate anyone enough to set up with Michael. Phyllis is going with her fat friend anyway. Jim’s putting down Pam’s mom. (Adorableness alert.)

Kevin suggested Michael call his friend Wendy. Turns out that’s Wendy’s. The way that conversation just goes on, with him ordering food and her saying it’s always ready killed me. Meanwhile, Dwight suggested the Chair Model.

Dwight: Michael, you shouldn’t have to settle. This is my pledge to you. I will find her, and I will bring her to you. And with God as my witness, she shall bear your fruit.
Michael: That sounds good. Go get her. Wait, wait, wait, wait, first go to Wendy’s, get my food, come back and then go.

Dwight tracks her down and determines she died in a car crash. Jim reminds a distraught Michael he never met the woman. This was dumb of him. Obviously. Pam offers to help, but Michael thinks she’s just going to suggest Burger King. (hehe) But no, really, she offers up her landlady. She seems really sincere.

Michael wants to know if she’s hot. He’s ready to get hurt again.

Meanwhile, Kevin wants to bring together the Five Families. Again, in great 30 Rock-esque fashion the writers come up with a ridiculously funny premise. The mob-esque bosses of Scranton Business Park are Michael; Bob Vance, Vance Refrigeration, sporting a great stogey; “Cool” Paul Faust of Disaster Kits, Ltd.; W.B. Jones himself, a grade-A bad-ass and Bill Kress of Bill Kress Tool and Die, a super old mean guy. The footage of each is do painstakingly hilarious.

At the coffee shop, Michael spots his lady. Wait, no not that one, not the one that totally doesn’t fit the description he was given of her. When the landlady approaches, he groans audibly, denies he’s Michael only to get busted by the barrista.

At this point I found a rock and crawled under it. It’s a shame because the landlady, Margaret, seems so nice.

This was the most awkward scene in recent memory. Michael’s covering his face, while he makes horrid small talk about the landlady business. She’s almost fascinated, maybe. He complains that it’s so hard to meet someone sweet, nice, easy to talk to, and she’s sitting in front of him wondering, no doubt, how someone could be so un-self-aware.

Before long, he shows off Jan’s picture in his cell phone and tells her about Jan’s boob job, and how smart and manipulative she was. It cant get worse. Yes it can. He accidentally dialed Jan who’s suddenly on the line.

Landlady: I’m going to head out.
Michael: Oh, OK, I enjoyed this conversation. It was very nice. It was like talking to the sweet old lady on the bus.
Landlady: That’s incredibly rude.
Michael: Now you ruined it.

Sometimes Michael is so sympathetic despite his flaws and foibles. And sometimes you just want to clamp his face in a George Foreman Grill.

Back at the office, the five families meet without Michael. Green Tie Andy, introducing himself brilliantly as “Andrew Bernard is the name of me”, and Kevin make their pitch. Andy brought note cards, but he’s got about 10 seconds, so Kevin blurts it out.

Cool Paul can’t believe that’s it.

Kevin: WB Jones’s construction guys park in our parking spaces every morning, and some people have to park really far away and walk all the way to the office. And some people sweat too much for comfort, and…
Kress: Oh God.
Cool Paul: I don’t have time for this guys. Just give them back their parking spaces.
Jones: OK
Cool Paul: We good? OK. under breath We could have done this over e-mail.

Kevin’s so proud. After Stacy left, things were rough. He’s teary. “It’s just nice to win one,” he says, and it’s like watching Rudy, Hoosiers and Remember the Titans all over again.

Returning to work, Michael’s mad at Pam over the landlady set-up. He wants passion, not companionship, he tells her. He’s a man of intensity, of cool, of youth and of passionately. But not of good grammar, I guess.

Jim saunters over in classic Jim-sauntering-over-to-reception fashion and points out Pam just got herself evicted. But Pam says she doesn’t really like the place anyway. She’ll just move. Who’s going to take in a slob like her? Her boyfriend, she jokes. But when he jumps at the idea, she says she won’t do that until she’s engaged.

Then their witty banter steps up a notch.

Jim: Have I not proposed to you yet?
Pam: I don’t, no.
Jim: Well, that’s coming.
Pam: Oh, right now?
Jim: No, I’m not going to do it right here. That would be rather lame.
Pam: OK, so then when?
Jim: Pam, I’m not going to tell you. Hate to break it to you but that’s not how that works.
Pam: Oh, right, yeah.
Jim: Wait, I’m serious. It’s happening. And when it happens, it’s going to kick your ass, Beesly. So, stay sharp.
Pam: I’ve been warned.

Jim TH: I am not kidding. …pulling out an engagement ring… Got it a week after we started dating.

That thud you just heard was a million fangirls fainting simultaneously.

Anyone reading panic in her expression missed the point of the scene. It was awe and delight. Emmyjean over at the Northern Attack Watercooler broke it down perfectly. Pam expected her engagement requirement to dash Jim’s hopes for living together, but instead it took the conversation to a level she hadn’t expected. And she was left delighted and surprised.

See for yourself.

Andy and Kevin return triumphantly from their mob pow wow. The sight of Andy dancing in the parking lot accompanies his explanation of why he did what he did (even if Kevin really did it).

“Did I do this for me? No. I did this for the little guy, joe six-pack. The guy who wakes up every month in his $400 a month apartment and wonders how he’s going to pay his mortgage that month, how he’s going to fill his car up with oil, wonders, ‘How am I going to pay my kid’s orphanage bills?’ Shouldn’t have to wonder where he’s going to park.”

Meanwhile, Dwight’s commiserating with Michael, who’s heartbroken. Dwight knows just what Michael needs: closure. He lost a woman who touched him deeply, and he needs to say goodbye.

So he takes Michael to the cemetery where Ms. Shoshlefski, the excellently named chair model, is buried. She died, Dwight recounts poignantly, of blunt force trauma and blood loss. She was so innocent, and stoned, apparently. She crashed into the side of an airplane hangar.

Michael used to think Ms. Right was out there. Now he feels silly because she’s dead. All he can do is wait for next year’s chair catalogue and look for someone alive. Uh, yeah.

Walking down the road, the sun to their backs and chatting about dinner, Jim suddenty drops to his knees…and he ties his shoe. My wife informs me that was a very bad idea and not funny at all. Pam was OK with it though, Jam-nation’s collective heart stopped. When he plays off the gag, she drops an “I hate you” on him that recalls “Michael’s Birthday” and “The Secret” and she laughs it off.

Jenna Fischer was right. There really is some seriously big stuff coming for those two.

And if you thought it was over, the tag at the end was a beautiful surprise: Michael and Dwight serenading the chair model’s grave late into the night to the tune of American Pie.

Bye bye Ms Chair Model lady. I dreamt that we were married and you treated me nice. WE had lots of kids drinking whiskey and rye. Why’d you have to go off and die? Why’d you have to go off and die?

Watch the whole episode again here…