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Job Opening: Office Work
In 2003, a group of strangers had one very big thing in common: We had all just been cast on a new TV comedy pilot called The Office. After years of living as struggling artists, we were all very happy to be employed and doing what we loved. We could never have predicted the impact it would have on the rest of our lives.
Jenna
I have an old photo from my first day of work on The Office. It was taken when Steve Carell, John Krasinski, Rainn Wilson, B. J. Novak, David Denman, Phyllis Smith, and I met with the producers, network executives, and director, Ken Kwapis, to do a table read of the pilot script for the first time. Allison Jones, our casting director, came to the table read armed with a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies and a Polaroid camera. I desperately wanted a picture to commemorate the day (and this was before everyone had cameras on their phones), so I was excited when she told us all to gather together for a photo. I asked if she would take one for me too. She said sure, took a second picture, and handed me the Polaroid and a cookie. I remember standing and munching the cookie while watching the photo slowly develop before my eyes.
To let you know how special this whole moment was, let me share a little about my backstory. I grew up in St. Louis, Missouri. From the time I was seven years old, I knew I wanted to be an actor. I canât say why exactly. But I barely remember a time when this wasnât my goal. (At age nine, I considered becoming a veterinarian, but when I learned I would have to do surgeries on animals, I went back to my original plan of actor.) My parents were very supportive, but also refused to let me act professionally as a child (and itâs not like there were a ton of opportunities in St. Louis, to be honest). They told me I had to graduate from high school and college before moving to Los Angeles. So I auditioned for every school play and joined every drama club. I spent most of high school in the dancing chorus until my senior year, when I was cast as the Fiddler in The Fiddler on the Roof. (I had no lines, but extra solo dancing.) I went to college at a small liberal arts school in rural Missouri called Truman State University and majored in theater. I learned a lot about acting technique, and my love of performing was solidified. After graduation, I packed up my Mazda 323 hatchback and drove across the country to Los Angeles, ready to give it a go in Hollywood. I ended up spending years in various odd jobs, trying to pay off my defaulted credit card and make my rent. Thanks to a mandatory typing class in high school, most of the jobs I found were working as . . . wait for it . . . a receptionist. In the meantime, I was going on hundreds of auditions and performing Commedia del Arte with a local theater company. I earned my Screen Actors Guild card doing background work (experience that would come in handy later, as you will learn in this book) and each year I seemed to do a little better than the year before. I booked some guest appearances on television shows, a couple of independent films, and a pilot called Rubbing Charlie (yes, you read that right). It was a comedy starring a stressed-out doctor named Charlie, played by Scott Wolf, who gets life lessons from his massage therapist, me. I actually rubbed Charlie. It was a really sweet and funny show, I was convinced it would be my big break. So when it didnât make it past the pilot stage, I was crushed. I told my manager I wanted to quit, the years of rejection having taken their toll, and my new plan was to apply to vet technician school (animal care with no surgeries). She told me to keep at it, that the right role would find me if I just didnât give up. I had my doubts; at that point Iâd been plugging away in Los Angeles for nearly eight years, but I decided to take her advice and give it one more year. As fate would have it, the following pilot season I was asked to audition for the American remake of a BBC show called The Office. The role was for the receptionist, Pam, a worn-down yet still hopeful young woman with artistic dreams beyond her depressing day job. In other words, me.
After we snapped the shot, Steve Carell said, âOne day this photo will be worth money. Especially after they fire me and replace me with a new actor for episode two. Youâll all look at this photo and say, âAww, remember Steve Whatâs-his-name? He was sweet. I wonder what heâs up to now?ââ Before The Office, Steve had the most experience of all of us. He wasnât a household name by any means, but he had been a correspondent on The Daily Show, heâd been a regular on The Dana Carvey Show, and heâd had a scene-stealing role opposite Jim Carrey in the movie Bruce Almighty. He had also been rejected by Saturday Night Live and been cast in more than one failed pilot. He knew better than all of us how rough and random our business could be. Rainn Wilson had been knocking around for about ten years, traveling the country doing Shakespeare, and most recently worked as a recurring character on Six Feet Under. Phyllis had spent the previous nineteen years working in casting, including eight as a casting associate for Allison Jones. When we all came in to audition for The Office, Phyllis was our reader! Ken Kwapis was so taken with her, he told Greg he thought she should play a role on the show. John Krasinski had done some commercials, and, like me, his last pilot was not picked up. B. J. Novak had been doing stand-up comedy when Greg discovered him. David Denman was like Steve. Heâd been an employed yet mostly unknown actor for years, having appeared in a number of studio films and miniseries. Heâd also done four pilots, none of which ever made it to series. We all laughed at Steveâs joke, but the truth is we were all also secretly wondering if weâd get to episode two.
Also there that day were the creators of the original version of The Office, Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant. I had watched every episode of the British series and naturally was a huge fan. I was in awe of Lucy Davisâs portrayal of Dawn, Pamâs British counterpart. She could communicate so much with just a glance. I hoped that I could bring as much heart and depth to Pam as Lucy did to Dawn. As I sat with the creators of this masterpiece, I remember thinking, If I lose this job tomorrow, at least I got to sit in the same room as Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant. After the read, Ricky and Stephen gave us ideas for how to best âAmericanizeâ the show. This had been the subject of a lot of discussion amongst the creative team. In England, they do much shorter television seasons. The original Office series was only twelve episodes long in total, with one Christmas special. American networks expect a lot more than that. A typical American television show makes twenty-four episodes per season. Ricky noted that if we hoped to make one hundred episodes, we should be sure people didnât become too frustrated by Michaelâs incompetence. He suggested we make him a buffoon, but still good at his job. That way, American viewers would find something to admire in Michael amidst all the annoyance. Stephen Merchant then said that the Jim and Pam relationship was another way to balance Michaelâs obnoxious behavior. He said, âAlways remember, Jim and Pam are the heart of the show.â Gulp! No pressure!
Angela
I did not grow up in Los Angeles either. I grew up in Indonesia, by way of Louisiana and Texasâmy dad was a drilling engineer, and we moved around for his job. I always knew I wanted to be a performer. My mom loves to tell the story about when she asked me and my older sisters what we wanted to be when we grew up. All my sisters had funny responses but mine she said was the most puzzling. My sister Billie said she wanted to be âthe boss.â Janet wanted to be a truck driver like our uncle Carl; Tina, a gymnast; and I wanted to be Carol Burnett. I was four. My dad had shown me The Carol Burnett Show and all I wanted to do for the rest of my life was be a comedian. My first big break was getting cast as Mary in the Christmas play at school. Not a lot of jokes were written for Mary, but hey, it was a lead role. During college, I would write stand-up bits and try them out for my friends. I had grown up watching David Lettermanâs monologues and would even memorize some of his routines. I was desperate to learn more about comedy writing, and after four years at Baylor University and a bachelorâs degree, I headed to New York City to intern for Late Night with Conan OâBrien. When I interviewed for my position on Conan, I was told only two interns were ever on the stage during rehearsals and tapings: the writersâ intern and the bandâs intern. All the other interns were up in the offices. I was determined to have access to those rehearsals. Thatâs where Conan and Andy Richter and the writers would work out his stand-up routine and sketches. Well, the writersâ intern position had already been filled, so I told them I wanted to be the bandâs intern. They asked me if I knew anything about music. I lied and said, âOf course! Music is my life!â I got the job and learned that if you make a friend at SIR (Studio Instrument Rentals), you can fake it until you make it as a music intern.
I spent my weekdays watching Conan and my weekends taking acting classes. A friend of mine had given me Uta Hagenâs book A Challenge for the Actor, and I was lucky enough to take a workshop from Carol Rosenfeld at the acting school started by Uta Hagen herself, HB Studio. Watching Conan and studying at HB Studio boosted my confidence, and I decided to move to Los Angeles to try to be a television actor.
At this point, I was working two jobs and auditioning constantly. I had had a string of national commercialsâmost notably for Buick, Chrysler, and Layâs WOW Chips with Olestra. Yes, the chips that gave everyone abdominal cramping, diarrhea, and anal leakage. (They were eventually discontinued.) Between auditions, I was an operator at 1-800-DENTIST and ran the intern program at the iO West comedy club. I had been performing improv three nights a week for a decade. You know that annoying friend who was constantly handing you a flyer for their show . . . that was me.
Courtesy of Jenna Fischer and Angela Kinsey
During this time, I was married to Warren Lieberstein, and related by marriage to Greg Daniels. Greg and his wife, Susanne (Warrenâs sister), were always very supportive and came to several of my shows. In the summer of 2003, Susanne invited us over for a swim. I coveted these afternoon swims because our tiny apartment had only one AC window unit, and summers were rough. I had wedged myself into one of their daughterâs brightly colored floaties and was trying to paddle to the steps of the pool when Greg sat down to chat. He told us he was going to be remaking the BBC version of The Office. I remember trying to suppress an âuh-ohâ look on my face. A few other major networks tried to bring BBC shows to the United States and failed. The sensibility and tone of a show for a British audience had not transferred well to an American audience. I loved the BBC version of The Office and was worried that making it for an American audi...
