If Facebook still sported its short-lived "Pulse" feature, I submit that it would have NBC's "The Office" among the top-10 TV shows, and rising. (A trend among other writers on these pages has been to use the site for their sociological research-surely I can do my own through hypothetical conjecture.)
This is for good reason: The show is brilliantly adapted from Ricky Gervais' British creation. But I also think it has a special relevance to college culture.
Characters Michael Scott (Steve Carrell) and Jim Halpert (John Krasinski) seem like polar opposites. Michael is totally oblivious to how he presents himself, awkwardly pushing unfunny jokes and racist, sexist inferences to torturously uncomfortable points. Jim is well-liked wherever he goes (that is to say, Scranton or Stamford)-not only by the ladies but even by his ostensible nemesis, Dwight (Rainn Wilson), who deep down knows how important Jim is to him.
But Michael and Jim, far from being antithetical, are intimately connected to one another. It doesn't take long to figure out that Michael's weakness is his discomfort in his own skin. Unable to handle any social situation adroitly, he finds himself buying a condo he can't afford in order to avoid the admission that he can't afford it. The most heartbreaking moments of the show occur when it becomes brutally clear that although he is a top-notch paper salesman, Michael's entire life has been plagued by ineptitude at forming relationships, making friends and dealing with life.
He knows it-but fails to carry out self-reflection to pinpoint his failings and turn them around. Ironically, he is equally unable to empathize with others and mitigate his boorishness.
Jim, meanwhile, seems in his element in the office-at least socially. But we also get the feeling that he belongs elsewhere, possessing a mind too creative to be properly used in such a bland environment. Like Michael, whose awkward façade gives way to unvarnished moments of his unhappiness, Jim betrays inner turmoil about his relationship with Pam (Jenna Fischer) and his career (in between putting Dwight's belongings in Jell-O).
I think the reason for the show's particular resonance among Duke students (Facebook's search results max out at "over 500" Dukies who list it as one of their favorite shows-clearly the site doesn't cater to the precise statistical needs of serious journalists) is its focus on self-reflection and the pitfalls of social interaction.
Hundreds of students are in Facebook groups (yes, I'm going back to that well) lamenting-or more often, celebrating-"awkwardness."
This makes sense. Duke provides us with plenty of moments in which one might, for instance, choose to "stare at the ground to avoid premature eye contact" (group: "Hey, you're awkward..."). Drinking quiets the introspection and self-consciousness, but the next day, how many people "debate whether to say hi to someone [they] sort of know" (group: "Holy S-, I'm Awkward")?
The process of finding an identity at Duke creates challenging interactions. Despite The Chronicle's editorial exhortation to "Be yourself," the rush process defies participants to strike just the right balance between pandering to their prospective groups and maintaining their own personalities.
Being comfortable with oneself in college is difficult enough (I think an exploration of Michael Scott's experience in university would be hilarious). But to successfully manage semi-adult relationships with others who are similarly situated and equally self-conscious about their own identities-well, awkwardness is sure to ensue.
I talked about the most heartbreaking moments of "The Office": witnessing Michael's self-destructive inability to develop a socially competent personality. I think the most beautiful moments occur when Jim, no stranger to introspection or potential "awkwardness" himself, sees Michael teetering on the edge of absolute disaster and uses his own adeptness to offer his boss a way out.
Perhaps our collective acknowledgment of social difficulty-in Facebook, a forum that provides the opportunity to present the most polished, least awkward version of oneself -is meant in a similar vein.
For isn't there a little Michael Scott in all of us?
See headline.
David Kleban is a Trinity senior. His column runs every other Tuesday.
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