I am currently watching a show called Off Campus. It is about hot university students having dramatic feelings at each other. It is exactly the level of low-stakes nonsense my brain wants on a Sunday evening.
BUT, every single time two of them go in for a kiss (or more), I want to crawl into a hole and live there.
I do not know what it is. They are fictional, they have clearly signed a contract, they are presumably being paid, and I am a grown woman with a job, a mortgage, and an actual personal life. I have nothing to be embarrassed about. They have nothing to be embarrassed about. And yet, I am physically reaching for the remote, looking at my phone, suddenly fascinated by the ceiling. The cringe is genuinely full-body.
It made me think about how powerful cringe is. Two strangers fake-kissing on a Netflix show I'm not even particularly invested in can make me actively flinch. Imagine what cringe is quietly doing inside your office every single day.
I believe cringe makes the office worse. The minute we start worrying about what other people think, we stop dancing, stop singing, stop saying the nice thing out loud. We shrink ourselves. We sand down the bits that made us interesting in the first place.
And the workplaces I love most? They are the ones that have made peace with being slightly cringe on purpose.
I cannot tell you how often I hear someone moan about the cringey bits of the office: the team-building exercise that asks you to "find someone with the same star sign"; the all-hands update with the heart-emoji border; the leaving speech where someone we barely worked with gets a montage and a tearful send-off.
We all roll our eyes. We all do the little smirk to the person next to us. And we are all, quietly, wrong.
The cringe is the point.
Five reasons your workplace needs more cringe, not less: