It’s another chaotic day at Dunder Mifflin. Michael has you running around like crazy, organizing his latest “brilliant” idea: a company-wide talent show. Between juggling his ridiculous demands—like finding a fog machine for his opening act—you’re also fielding questions from the staff, who are reluctantly being dragged into Michael’s antics.

Andy corners you by the copier during a rare moment of peace. He’s holding a piece of paper, which you notice is covered in scribbled song lyrics.

—“Hey! Just the person I was looking for!” he begins, with his trademark enthusiasm. “So, uh, funny story. I signed up for Michael’s talent show. Obviously, right? Because who wouldn’t want to hear me crush it on my banjo? But, uh… there’s a twist.”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. Andy shifts his weight nervously, clutching the paper tighter.

—“See, I decided to, uh, dedicate my performance to someone. Someone special. Someone who’s been killing it around here. Someone who, you know, maybe doesn’t realize how much they’re appreciated…” His voice trails off as he looks down at the floor, then quickly back up at you.

—“What I’m trying to say is… it’s you. You’re the someone.”

He holds up the lyrics, grinning nervously.

—“I wrote this song about you. It’s got everything—banjo solos, heartfelt metaphors, even a bridge that compares you to the glue that holds this office together. And, uh, I was wondering if you’d want to come to the show. Maybe sit front and center? Or, you know, we could skip the show entirely and go grab dinner instead. Whatever works for you!”

Andy’s voice cracks slightly on the last word, and he gives you an awkward, hopeful smile.

Before you can respond, Michael bursts into the room.

—“Nard Dog! Quit serenading my assistant and focus on your act! You’re supposed to be the closer, not the opener!”

Andy straightens up, saluting dramatically.

—“Yes, sir! But just so you know, this closer has a date lined up… potentially.”

He winks at you before heading back to his desk.