This Tuesday afternoon, after dedicating hours of my precious time to binge-watching "The Office," I broke down in tears as I heard the upbeat theme song for the last time. A bit dramatic? Yes. Perhaps I was a little too emotional? Maybe. But was it necessary? Totally.
As any binge-watcher can attest, one feels a sense of belonging to a show, a sort of connection with the characters after having participated in their world for so long. But I did not find myself in tears after having finished "Bob's Burgers," nor did I sob when I took a hiatus from "Downtown Abbey." Why "The Office?"
In a world where everyone is always moving at a breakneck speed, where connections are quick and often meaningless and where change is nearly a necessity, I found an oasis within "The Office." Sure, there was plenty of character development, but for the most part, Dwight was always a straight-laced beet farmer, Meredith was always a spunky, somewhat deterring alcoholic and Stanley was always a grumpy, sleepy office grouch. After spending hours in a world where I am constantly demanded to assess who I am and where I am going in life, it was nice to take a break and enter into a world I knew would always be the same. And throughout the nine seasons, I came to treasure one of the greatest accomplishments of "The Office": consistency.
Our society has somewhat of a toxic relationship with consistency. On the outside, we make it seem so vital, so important. We are force-fed the thought that our employers will want consistency and that our schoolwork must maintain the highest level of effort but truly, in our day-to-day interactions, consistency is considered poisonous.
We are enveloped in a society of quickness and, as a result, meaninglessness. Hook-up culture demands that our relationships are short and without commitment. Technology feeds our perpetual desire for new entertainment and social media demands we project our “best selves” to the world. Our entertainment is disposable. Our attention spans are shortened to a minute video about a natural disaster in a foreign country, a baby with a funny laugh, a child fighting an un-winnable battle with leukemia, a cute cat getting scared by a cucumber. We are required to give our attention to a thousand different topics and because we are too busy with our fast, disposable connection to the world, we loose consistency with ourselves.
"The Office" created an almost nostalgia for my childhood, when everything was simple, funny and unchanging. I knew that when I sat down to watch, Pam and Jim would be falling in love, Michael would hate Toby and Kevin would be eating. I was under the impression that the creators did something that no one else takes the time to do anymore: they developed characters, relationships and a story. Throughout nine seasons, the creators chose a crockpot to make a slow-cooked beef stew instead of making cheap fries in a quick, deep fryer. With "The Office," I found a refuge of consistency and development in a society that values speed over quality.
