When The Office premiered in 2005, no one expected it to last. It was awkward, low-budget and built around a guy who definitely should’ve been reported to HR. And yet here we are—20 years later—still quoting it, still rewatching it, still sending “Boom. Roasted.” GIFs like it’s a full-time job.
For millennials, The Office never really left. We watched it live, made it a comfort show and turned it into a streaming juggernaut. For Gen Z, it became a TikTok language, a meme goldmine and one of the only shows they’ll admit to watching on repeat. It’s not just nostalgia—it’s a shared language between two generations raised on sarcasm, existential dread and mildly toxic group dynamics.
So why does a show about a mid-tier paper company in Scranton still work in 2025?
Because The Office isn’t about ambition. It’s about surviving the meeting that could’ve been an email. It’s about working a job you don’t love with people you didn’t choose and somehow building a weird little community anyway.
“Young people are being told, ‘You can’t just get a job, you have to find a job that fulfills you, that you’re passionate about,’” said Amy Wharton, a sociology professor emeritus who’s written extensively on American work culture. “There’s a lot of pressure on people to invest in themselves and work at something that expresses their values but it’s really hard to find that.”
Exactly. We were promised passion, purpose and impact. Instead we got Slack, burnout and a boss who sends thumbs-up reactions at 11 p.m.
Enter The Office—a show where no one is thriving and everything is slightly broken… and somehow that feels comforting.
Psychologist Dr. Krystine Batcho, who studies the emotional impact of nostalgia, explains that people rewatch shows like The Office because it “provides a sense of stability, continuity and comfort.” In times of stress or uncertainty, we instinctively return to what feels familiar—and with its predictable rhythms, known outcomes and reliably awkward silences, The Office fits the bill.
Rewatching familiar shows can also be psychologically restorative. As Psychology Today reports, studies show that viewers often return to comforting shows after emotionally demanding tasks or during burnout, using them to regain a sense of control and identity. Basically: you’re not procrastinating, you’re healing.
And it helps that The Office asks nothing of you. The episodes are short. The plot resets every time. The characters change maybe once every five seasons. You don’t need to focus. You don’t even need to like anyone. And in a world that demands nonstop growth and hustle, that’s kind of beautiful.
The Office is a relic—but it’s our relic. It’s aggressively unpolished, deeply mid and still more emotionally accurate than anything your job’s ever posted on LinkedIn.
Yes, some of it hasn’t aged well. And yes, if your church small group leader starts quoting Michael Scott, it might be time to find a new church. But buried under the cringe, there’s something real: awkward people trying to do life together. And that hits a little too close to home.
So happy 20th to The Office.
Still unhinged. Still oddly healing. Still better than whatever reboot is coming next.
