In the following interview, The Opiate’s Anton Bonnici (AB) poses a few questions to Genna Rivieccio (GR) about her latest book (a.k.a. massive tome), Diary of an Anonymous Midtown Office Worker in the 2010s. The context of the book is presented as a diary that’s been found many years in the future by a team of archaeologists who no longer have any idea what this type of patently meaningless work would be like in practice, seeing it in the present as a barbaric way to make humans live/sing for their supper.
AB: Correct me if I’m wrong, but the culmination of this book was an actual documentation of your thoughts and experiences working in Midtown, so how did it feel to revisit it all in preparation for this publication?
GR: Yes, it was written in real time. And reading through it all again for editing purposes took me right back to the moment. Remembering how much I fucking hated it, how miserable I was. I would always call certain people on my various breaks (usually “unsanctioned”) to tell them I couldn’t do it anymore. And it definitely contributed to a drinking problem I didn’t kick until 2020. The worst part was, my misery was totally meaningless to the Powers That Be. I was a faceless nobody within that organization, never quite “taking to” the team spirit. I bet if you said my name to someone from that time now, they’d have, at best, a vague remembrance of my existence. I might have been memorable for my aura of contempt and all my liberties with break-taking though. I also think that my misery was, in part, spurred by the fact that my “team” was ultimately reduced to just me and one superior (before I then transferred to another department). Weirdly, I often find that I’m cursed with situations where I’m the lone person for someone to “supervise” and of course they want to take their job way more seriously than it needs to be. It’s all drudgery in the end, and I can’t stand the fakeness around work in general and this kind of work specifically where we all have to pretend, even in times as fucking dire as this, that we’re not just there to be compensated and keep contributing to the system we hate while still lying to ourselves that it’s the “best” one.
In terms of being taken back to that period of my life, I also think about how I probably would have stayed at this job were it not for being the type of fool to quit for the sake of perpetuating a relationship that ended up taking me on an emotional whirlwind through Europe (needless to say, the “leap of faith” was in vain). Because of that decision to quit as a means to suit someone else’s whim, I’ve been in a career freefall ever since absconding from the corporate world (seriously, if you or someone you know has a paid proofreading gig, send it my way). And a part of me wonders who I would be if I had stayed. In the multiverse of “me’s,” maybe I surrendered to drinking the Kool-Aid and actually became, at best, a “senior” copywriter instead of just a plain one—still happily parroting that New York is the “greatest city in the world” while suffering every day amidst that “greatness.”
AB: Those that follow your writing might know that you have a particular axe to grind with New York, do you think Midtown deserves an even sharper axe than the rest of the city?
GR: Mm, not necessarily. It’s all pretty terrible/phony baloney once the enchantment spell wears off (which is a rare thing to happen for most people—and even if it does, they still stay there).
AB: Your devotion to pop culture is evident in all your projects and it comes through in this work as well. How conscious are you of your references and connections as you are developing a text? Or is it more of an unconscious impulse by now?
GR: It’s probably second nature at this point. It’s a primary language for me, very ingrained and often uncontrollable. I don’t know when it became so innate, but I’m sure it has to do with growing up with cable/probably all started with watching I Love Lucy reruns, particularly the season where they go to Hollywood, which was like a gateway to all these other celebrity names.
AB: This documentation spans five years of titillating mundanity. Are there specific days you are particularly fond of? Or fond of retelling?
GR: These ones aren’t mentioned in the book, but I would say the day I was hired and the day I quit. When I arrived the first day, my “work station,” as they like to call it, wasn’t set up correctly, so I was sent on my way with the rest of the day ahead of me. At which time I went to the movie. I love nothing more than an afternoon movie. The day I gave my notice, I did it from my computer at the office—just “shot off” the email. Instead of anyone on my “team” coming up to me to talk about it, I caught a glimpse of them in the meeting room in “hushed whisper”/“how scandalous!” pose. I always feel like a freak show in any scenario, but it really stood out to me in that instant how much of an anomaly I was in a corporate setting. I don’t think they were “upset” about me leaving, but more about the hassle of having to go through the trouble of replacing me.
AB: Do you feel that cultural shifts could have been at play across those years, from 2014 to 2018? What changed?
GR: Oh definitely. Especially as you get to the entries about the first Trump presidency in 2016. I think that this whole book is a genuine historical document of the 2010s and the gradual cultural shift that took place toward the end of the decade. The businesses, the trends, the priorities. The popularity of Yeezy Season 3. And it is worth reading for a true glimpse into that period (which is now starting to become “vintage”) and that hyper-specific New York neighborhood. Which will only continue to change, yet remain the same.
AB: Do you think this particular Midtown still exists or is it a whole new nightmare by now?
GR: I’m sure it’s a new nightmare by now, but the fundamentals remain the same: overworked, underpaid (by the standards of NYC prices), on a hamster wheel, trying to fit in with pod people who go to the gym and have very, very nice teeth (it might sound like the stereotype of L.A. in some respects, and, in truth, New York is much more L.A. in terms of priorities than it thinks it is). And one thing that, of course, will never change, in Midtown or any other setting, is that, more often than not, a person who is less qualified or adept at the job will be hired if they have that “positive, can-do attitude” that employers love prattling on about so much. Me, I just wanna do the goddamn work without all this pomp and circumstance/requisite ass-kissing under the guise of “enthusiasm.” But no, that’s not how the game is played, and I’m further failing at it by publicly announcing this.
AB: Why do you think the office still exists? Why do you think people still gravitate towards office work?
GR: The office will probably exist for a long time in some iteration or other (not just because the Orange Führer is mandating that government employees return to it). Mainly because, unfortunately, people still think that’s the best way to “socialize” in adulthood. The cheesiest thing to me during the pandemic was people expressing sadness about not being able to go into the office anymore because they missed the social aspect of it. To quote John Bender, it’s, I guess, “demented and sad, but social.” I’m sure I’ll ruffle still more feathers when I say that the biggest losers/most unimaginative people rely on the workplace for their social life. Sure, you can have a workplace “partner in crime,” but many people look to this setup for far too much. These are the people that merit the phrase, “Get a life.” That is, one outside of work and always fucking talking about it. At the same time, it’s not their fault because the system is designed to make work your entire life.
As for a “gravitation” toward office work, number one is that it usually pays more than retail or food/other service work (even though these types of jobs involve far more grit). Beyond that, let’s just say that we’re taught from the beginning, via the school model, that life isn’t supposed to be all that enjoyable or exciting (one of my favorite book titles is Irvine Welsh’s If You Liked School You’ll Love Work). That it has to have “structure” and “purpose,” all eventually benefiting the continuance of government as we know it.
I often think of the Kate Moss quote, “Why not? Why the fuck can’t I have fun all the time?” The answer, for most, lies in deeply-rooted conditioning and I would say that millennials were the first to truly attempt bucking this trend. They were anti-work (that is, work in the “conventional sense”) long before Gen Z thought they coined the phrase, “I don’t dream of labor.”
I’m sure this book and this interview will make it seem (especially to right-wing types) that I’m some kind of “lazy ass.” The truth is, I work my ass off every day for no pay to do things I actually enjoy doing. But because those things are unpaid, I am deemed of no worth or consequence in society. Your entire “personhood” in this world (and in the United States especially) is considered “not real” if you don’t have a yearly W-2 to show for it. That is, tragically, the nature of what it is to be an artist who sticks with their art even when they never “hit the big time” or finagle the miracle of a grant or patron.
AB: In your writing you tend to avoid big plots and spend more time on building worlds in intricate everyday minutiae. How intentional is this? Has this style been inspired by any specific favorite writers of yours?
GR: For this particular book, whether it’s intentional or not, I feel like Kafka is all over it (and is, of course, quoted at the beginning). He knew best how to describe the tortures of banal employment, particularly when you’re a writer who wants to use that skill creatively. Not as part of a bullet point in a job description that reads: “Must have excellent written and verbal communication skills.” The Metamorphosis also said it best with Gregor becoming a “useless thing” (okay, a bug) to his family once he could no longer go into work. It’s the ultimate cautionary tale about what happens to someone when they can’t (or won’t) fall in line with capitalism. No one wants to be bothered with you if there isn’t a financial benefit involved; you become nothing more than a “burden.” Obviously, I resent the shit out of the idea that people are branded as useless because, for whatever reason, they weren’t given the “talent” of making money.
AB: When it comes to your writing, there’s always this underlying fight for a glimpse at a humanity that’s trying to survive this inhuman civilization. Are there any signs of hope? If yes, where?
GR: As you might know by now, I’m someone who finds it really difficult to be hopeful. I know that, ultimately, hope is like some form of willful ignorance. But I also think that if there’s any hope to be found, it’s through the idea of resistance. That society, the government—whoever—won’t be able to stamp out the rebellious spirits (or that, if they finally do, they accidentally leave at least a handful of them behind to “infect” others again). Because once that happens, “negative” thoughts like the ones I incorporate in this book won’t serve as a reminder for people to wake up from their comfortable coma. I also must be somewhat hopeful if I’m presenting the tome through a lens that presumes work like this no longer exists in the future (though that might have equally harrowing implications re: AI).
AB: Anything else you want to leave our readers with?
GR: Being an iconoclast don’t pay the bills (unless you’re, like, David Lynch [RIP]). But, to paraphrase another Kate Moss(-backed) aphorism, “Nothing pays as good as ‘not working’ feels.”
If you’re interested in checking out Diary of a Midtown Officer Worker in the 2010s, this link provides an array of purchase options.