There seems to be a mysterious fog surrounding what copywriters actually do. Some people think that when you say this is your job, you’re talking about copyrights because they may or may not be retarded. Others still imagine that it’s a glamorous occupation in which you’re coming up with tag lines that will be seen nationwide.
But for most Midtown office workers, the role of copywriter is, in essence, like being a jank Peggy Olson. Unlike Peggy, there is no high-octane deadline, midday drinks or a genuine need for a specific copywriter. Every copywriter is faceless in the building, and serves no purpose other than to churn out descriptions–something, anything related to the thing you are describing. You’re part of a mill that must turn out a certain number of words and, in this sense, your “role” has nothing to do with writing so much as a keen ability to black out while you’re performing a task in order to get through it. It’s just another fake job among the infinite slew of the other made up ones that exist only in New York.