I approach this letter as if I was writing the eulogy for a friend who has recently passed on. While I know that this is one instance where my “friend” will eventually crawl out of their grave and come knocking on my door, I am still in a period of mourning. Even when you know your friend will be coming back, it is still painful to think about being without them. And that is what The Office is to me, in a way…a wonderful friend. I’m constantly developing deep (bordering on psychotic) ties to certain television shows, so it’s no real surprise to me how deeply affected by the writer’s strike I am. However, to really come to terms with the extended hiatus of The Office, I need to write this letter and say my goodbyes.
Goodbye Michael. I will miss your offensive remarks, your idiotic actions and your perpetual inability to act like an adult. Even now, I must suppress an urge to scream “that’s what she said.” I will miss your sweetness and your desperate need to be loved by all. Yes, Michael, you are needy…accept it. And I’m still doing my best to locate your missing turtles. It doesn’t look good though.
Goodbye Dwight. I will miss your gullibleness, your task forces, your occasionally heroic actions, and your unexplained loyalty to Michael. What will I do without all your unusual knowledge? How will I learn how to make beet pancakes? How will I fend off a surprise bear attack? Who will save me in the event of a bat invasion?
Goodbye Jim. I will miss your adorable smile, your genius pranks, your adorable smile, your homeless hair, your adorable smile…I’m sorry, I seem to be getting off track. I will miss your gentle humility, your kindness, and I will even miss your love for a woman that’s not me. And please, for all our sakes, don’t pull any really good pranks while you are gone.
Goodbye Pam. I will miss your spunk, your willingness to do anything for a good prank and the way you handle Michael with kid gloves, but never let him know it. While I loved you as the sweet and earnest Pam, I applaud you for breaking out of your shell to become Fancy New Beasley. Don’t get mad, but I still like calling you Pammy.
Goodbye Andy. I will miss your craziness, your sweetness, your brown-nosing, your back to craziness with a side-order of psychotic, your back to sweetness with a dash of annoying… basically I will miss your inability to act sane. I promise that I will practice my banjo daily and keep up with my Pig Latin studies. And I will never forget to mention at least twice during a conversation that I attended Cornell.
Goodbye Angela. I will miss your sweetness, your kindness to all, and your ability to never lose your temper, even in the most stressful of situations. And yes, I’m only saying these things because I’m scared to death of you. For this reason, I won’t mention that I will actually miss your bitchiness, the way you go crazy while planning a party, and the way you put the fear of God into everyone who works near you. I also won’t mention that you need to get back with Dwight.
Goodbye Creed. I will miss your oddities, your old-man creepiness, and the way you are constantly surprising me with facts from your past. I’m sorry you have to sleep under your desk, but at least now you can invite your friends over and play ping pong in the conference room.
Goodbye Kelly. I will miss your desperate need to get married and have babies, your ability to annoy everyone just by opening your mouth, and your rarely accessed non-crazy side. And, while the last time I saw you I wanted to slap you with a ping pong mallet, I will even miss your trash-talking.
Goodbye Toby. I may miss you the most. I will miss your sad eyes, the way I have to strain to hear when you talk, and the way you handle Michael’s constant abuse. Don’t give into the feelings of sadness…you may never get with Pam, but there is someone out there for you. And, in the most desperate of situations, Meredith would probably be up for a fling.
Goodbye Ryan. I actually don’t mind saying goodbye to you. Like Jim, I liked you better as a temp. While you are gone, do me a favor and get a shave.
Goodbye Darryl, Meredith, Phyllis, Oscar, Kevin, and Stanley. You have all added to my life in your own ways and I will miss each of you desperately. You are like part of my family…Darryl is the cool older brother, Meredith is the alcoholic older sister, Phyllis is the cookie-baking aunt, Oscar is the gay uncle who knows he’s superior to everyone else, Kevin is the cookie-eating cousin who plays in a band, and Stanley is the bored uncle who can get very unpleasant when he hasn’t eaten. Heck, you guys are even cooler than my actual family. No one in my clan has a drinking problem or gets excited over pretzels.
Now that I’ve bid my goodbyes to everyone in The Office, I actually feel a little better. Writing this has been very cathartic. For Michael, a cathartic experience involves being stranded in the woods with nothing but a knife, duck tape, and Dwight watching from behind a tree. But for me, this is enough. I will desperately miss The Office, but I am going to focus on remembering all the good moments and look forward to that day when I open my eyes and see that my “friend” has risen from the dead. I only hope they manage to give me some warning, because I do not react well to surprises. That’s what she said.