Why is Gen Z romanticising the nine-to-five job?

Come romanticize my nine-to-five with me!” a TikTok user exclaims before ushering viewers into a tour of a decorated office space. The time-stamped video, soundtracked by the soft clicks of a cloud keyboard, transforms the routine workday into something more soothing. Lunch is at noon, the pick-me-up matcha latte comes at 1:35, and by 3:30, it’s time for a quick nap in the parking garage. On the surface, work seems welcoming, even fun. But these videos are less about celebrating the workday and more about coping—reframing monotonous, stressful work hours into something more gratifying.

Part of the broader #romanticizemylife trend, these videos have skyrocketed in recent years, especially in a post-pandemic world where those making them are reassessing their relationships to office jobs. The structure of these videos, usually cut into different segments, emphasizes small daily rituals rather than the work itself. For these creators, filming lunch breaks, coffee runs, or even new desk setups becomes a way to reclaim sanity and control amidst the endless cacophony of Teams notifications.

To Erin Hatton, a sociology professor at the University at Buffalo, the popularity of these videos reflects a broader disillusionment with today’s work culture.

“This content is likely to speak to the many workers who feel uncertain about work and their prospects for economic stability—let alone success—in America today,” she explains. “This might manifest in not knowing how or where to find well-paying jobs or how to leverage their skills in corporate America. Or it might be that they have a nine-to-five job but find the work itself to be uninteresting and uninspiring.”
Hatton points out that many of today’s workers cannot expect to do better than generations that precede them. She believes all of this content, from quiet quitting to romanticizing the nine-to-five, is about putting work in its place—not as the center of these workers’ lives, but as something to hack, with the assumption that they will find meaning outside of work, not in the job itself.

“Despite being labeled as ‘romanticizing’ nine-to-five jobs, I don’t think they’re really about that at all,” Hatton says. “At their core, these videos are workers giving each other guidance on navigating the corporate world.” Videos with mantras like “work to live, not live to work,” for example, serve as gentle reminders to not let the corporate world eclipse your identity.

“This CONTENT is likely to SPEAK to the MANY WORKERS who feel UNCERTAIN about work and their PROSPECT for ECONOMIC STABILITY–let alone SUCCESS–in America today.”

For some, that guidance comes in the form of encouraging others to create a “work alter ego.” Creators talk about creating work personas that help them carry on in professional backdrops, so that they are able to feel a sense of purpose while avoiding feeling like their work days are merely an astral projection. Before getting ready for work, one Tiktok user who works in business development says she romanticizes her job by channeling an Olivia Pope–esque persona, emphasizing that she “would lose my mind” otherwise. In the comments, users bond over their shared experiences and cheer her on: “I started doing this and got word of a promotion!” one reads. “Preach! I do this all the time,” another adds.

It makes sense that people would cultivate a work alter ego. In previous decades, movies and television portrayed work as the domain of the girlboss, whether that meant slick Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada or the flawed but lovable and competent leaders in sitcoms like Living Single and Parks and Recreation. Careers were central to these character’s stories; it was through work that we understood who they were as people. Plotlines often emphasized the way work made these women heroic, an attribute that many of us will never embody in the office (and are often actively asked not to). Now that the promise of work as a locus of freedom and power has soured for many women, social-media users are embracing a “you are not your job” mentality as a coping mechanism.

Andrea Lee Press, the chair of media studies at the University of Virginia, says, “The medium has changed, but the message and the impact have strengthened—especially where workers are often very stressed about their futures, forced to keep exploitative jobs, and scared of working toward workers’ power and rights.”

On TikTok, users often express their frustrations about the dystopian state of affairs: juggling multiple jobs, being in severe debt, and still unable to afford rent. One user who is currently working three jobs asks, “Have we seriously normalized this?” A comment reads, “I’m terrified.”

These videos are, in their own way, reclamations of stolen time. Whether any of this will result in material change remains to be seen, but both Hatton and Press emphasize that valuing workers’ lives and rights is an important first step. “I think the union efforts and these videos fit together really well,” says Hatton. “Through collective action, workers try to make their jobs better … perhaps by increasing wages, work-life balance, benefits, or autonomy at work. Ultimately, it’s about finding ways to make corporate jobs work for them.”

“Sharing EXPERIENCES—and especially COMPLAINTS—is a TIME-HONORED way for workers to COME TOGETHER.”

Still, Press argues that these videos, ones that are more critical than idyllic, can generate a sense of community for workers still trying to find their footing in the world—and may be the catalyst toward a material difference.

“I believe those who share their critiques of working conditions that are unfair or exploitative are in fact taking the first step toward actually doing something about this,” she says. “I think for that to happen, those discussing these issues would need to make plans that go beyond TikTok.”

Hatton echoes this sentiment. “Sharing experiences—and especially complaints—is a time-honored way for workers to come together,” she says. “They learn strategies from each other, they may feel less alone, and sometimes they start organizing for change.”

This article originally appeared in harpersbazaar.com

Lead image: Unsplash+

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