There’s a wealth of jank companies populating the non-bougie territory of Midtown. This territory constitutes the portion of the city that spans from 34th to 44th near 7th and 8th Avenues, whereas the “livable” portion, shall we say, is closer to 5th and 6th Avenues from 45th Street and up. In any case, it is because there are so many “legitimate” companies posing as decent places to work by way of their Midtown address that they are able to get away with cutting costs where they can, which usually includes being in possession of a K-Cup coffee maker and a shitty printer.
It is largely due to the latter that an office worker is subjected to some of the most uncomfortable moments of his life by being damned to the interminable wait time for a few measly pages to churn themselves out. It is during this time that an unwanted exchange with another employee, usually one more “into it” than you, will occur. He or she might talk about his or her banal little life in Brooklyn or Westchester, or, worse work itself. Whatever the subject matter, you start to wonder why you’re still even printing things out to begin with when it’s supposed to be a twenty-first century world. But, as we’ve discussed, the construct of office life is a twentieth century entity.