Pam is toiling at her desk when Michael strides in purposefully. Oh, this is never good. He asks whether she saw Oprah the day before. She didn't, so she's not prepared for Michael's announcement: "I'm going to be a father." Pam, naturally, is quietly horrified, but manages to find her voice to ask, "What was Oprah about?" Michael says that Angelina Jolie was on, talking about adopting a baby from Asia and how it changed her life; it really inspired Michael, so he wants Pam to find out how much "a little Chinese baby would cost." I've heard there's a price break at six. Pam takes a breath before telling Michael, "That's a really big decision." He says he knows. Pam suggests, "Maybe you should wait before you adopt. Or not adopt." Michael, grinning tightly, tells her just to do it, so Pam quickly tells Michael that Roy's sister has looked into it, and that the application alone costs $1000. Michael makes a face, and then asks Pam to find a cheaper -- no, "less expensive" -- baby to be had. Tibet? Pam adds that Roy's sister learned that the waiting list is eight months long. Michael, unsurprisingly, isn't sure he wants a baby in eight months -- I doubt his commitment to his cell-phone package is going to be that long, actually. He exhales. Pam mimics him with faux disappointment at his abandonment of the notion of fatherhood. Finally, Michael suggests that if neither he nor Pam has had a baby in ten years... "No, Michael," says Pam. "Twenty years," offers Michael. That one doesn't fly either. At an offer of thirty, Pam realizes that, barring disgusting and ill-advised medical advancements, she's probably safe, and agrees. She can probably be pretty sure that just as Michael may not want a baby in eight months, he won't remember this negotiation in eight hours.
After credits, Ryan is running down a packing list with Michael, in his office. Okay, we're probably supposed to think Michael is very nerdy for doing this, but I have a standard packing list saved on my hard drive and I print it out before every trip. And I also spec out my outfits -- day and night (in case the weather changes or we go someplace fancy) -- for each day I'll be gone. It's a form of OCD that probably can't be treated. Yet. Anyway, Michael's apparently packing for three days, and will be equipped with shirts, socks, and many condoms. Oh, and fun jeans -- apparently what makes them fun is that they are white, yikes -- which are hanging on his door, still in their bag from the dry cleaner. Angela bitterly brings Michael a clipboard so that he can sign for a per diem -- $100. Look out, Arby's restaurants across the eastern seaboard!