Rich People on Vacation, Sad People at Work: How TV is Exposing Capitalism’s Cracks
There’s something deeply comforting about watching a fictional character slowly unravel under late-stage capitalism. Whether it’s Mark S. from Severance staring blankly at a fluorescent-lit wall, or Timothy from The White Lotus crashing out in a five-star Thai resort, there’s a weird relief in seeing our own anxieties dramatized on screen—just a little more surreal, a little more glamorous, and a lot more unhinged.
Over the past few years, TV has given us a parade of workplace dystopias and rich-people dramas that feel less like escapism and more like modern mythology. These shows hold a mirror up to the world we live in, and the cracks are showing. But Gen Z isn’t just watching these shows—we’re loving them. So, what does it say about our generation, the world we’ve inherited, and the media we’re choosing to consume?
We Grew Up Watching the System Break
Let’s be real. Gen-Z isn’t just casually annoyed with capitalism, we grew up watching it fall apart. A recession, pandemic, climate anxiety, student debt, gig work, influencer burnout, you name it. According to Pew and Deloitte, Gen-Z as a group is the most financially anxious generation, and also the least supportive of capitalism. Over half of us view capitalism negatively, and a whole lot of us don’t think the American economic system is built for us—because, frankly, it isn’t.
We’re tired of hustle culture. We’re skeptical of “dream jobs.” And we're way past pretending that climbing the corporate ladder gets you somewhere safe. These shows don’t offer solutions, but they do something just as powerful. They say, “Yeah, this sucks.” And sometimes, that’s enough to feel seen.
So, when a show like Severance depicts workers literally splitting their consciousness in half just to survive their corporate jobs? Yeah. We get it.
Capitalism: The Root of Our Woes
A central theme that threads through both Severance and The White Lotus is the critique of capitalism, which is particularly resonant for Gen-Z. Capitalism’s promise of upward mobility and personal success feels increasingly out of reach for young people, as rising inequality, student debt, and unaffordable housing chip away at the idea that hard work leads to a better life. In Severance, the employees at Lumon Industries are trapped in a system where they are stripped of their identities. Their entire existence is reduced to the job they perform, with no recognition of their personal lives. The show asks the question: What happens when work consumes everything, leaving no room for personal agency? For Gen Z, this hits home. This generation faces a job market which increasingly demands long hours and extensive mental energy, with little to no guarantee of the stability or fulfillment promised to our parents.
The White Lotus similarly exposes the inequalities inherent to capitalism. Throughout Season 3, Timothy Ratliff, a wealthy businessman, grapples with the consequences of his own corrupt dealings. As his financial empire collapses, so too does his family’s illusion of security. Meanwhile, employees like Gaitok, a security guard at the White Lotus, struggle with the precariousness of their position, navigating the whims of the rich and powerful. This power imbalance illustrates the way capitalism divides society into haves and have-nots, perpetuating cycles of exploitation. For Gen-Z, who have grown up watching financial systems collapse and seeing wealth increasingly concentrated in the hands of a few, these portrayals are eerily familiar.
Furthermore, the show’s depiction of wealth is detached from any notion of meaningful happiness or fulfillment. The Ratliff family’s endless pursuit of material success correlates directly with the increasing emotional turmoil they face, echoing Gen Z’s skepticism toward a capitalist-driven narrative that equates wealth with happiness. As Gen Z navigates economic instability and the existential dread of climate crises, these portrayals remind them that chasing after wealth and status may ultimately lead to emptiness.
Clock In, Zone Out
We’ve all been there—staring at a screen, answering emails, pretending to care, all while wondering if this is really what adulthood is supposed to feel like. Severance takes that soul-numbing vibe and cranks it into a literal sci-fi horror. At Lumon, you can sever your brain so one part of you only experiences work (“innie”) and the other gets to live exclusively in the normal parts of life (“outie”). The catch? Your innie never leaves the office. It’s like a twisted version of your 9-to-5 where you're permanently stuck in that post-lunch haze.
The show’s power comes from how real it feels. No, we don’t have chips in our brains (yet), but we do know what it’s like to feel trapped in jobs that don’t care about us, where “professionalism” means burying our personalities and our needs. Gen-Z grew up being told to dream big, but instead of securing stable corporate jobs, they’ve found themselves freelancing, side hustling, and praying for decent healthcare.
Severance is so compelling because it doesn’t just critique the workplace—it validates our exhaustion. It says: If your job feels like it’s draining your soul,maybe it actually is.
Rich People Are Not Okay
The characters in The White Lotus have everything – money, power, beachfront views – and yet, they’re the most miserable people you’ve ever seen. And not in a fun, relatable way. More like in a “you’re paying $50k a night to ruin everyone’s life” kind of way.
Season 3 of The White Lotus shows that the wealthiest people can be the most emotionally fractured. The Ratliffs, obsessed with maintaining appearances at their luxury wellness retreat, fall apart under the weight of their privilege. Their money only isolates them, leaving them anxious, disconnected, and searching for fulfillment they’ll never find. Outside of Timothy Ratliff’s downfall, daughter Piper is searching for meaning in Buddhism and son Saxon is so overworked that he has “nothing” other than his corporate job. And the other wealthy characters aren’t doing so well, either. Laurie, Jaclyn, and Kate’s luxurious girls’ trip quickly unravels into resentment and regret. Laurie admits she spent her life searching for meaning in work, only to realize too late that it gave her nothing—just burnout, emptiness, and a sense of being profoundly lost. The wealthy Rick has love right in front of him, but is too consumed with guilt and his own personal baggage, proving that even the rich can’t buy clarity or connection. Meanwhile, the Thai staff, though dealing with their own struggles, maintain a sense of emotional grounding and community that the rich guests can’t grasp.
Gen Z watches this and doesn’t envy it, but dissects it. We’re the generation that came of age watching recessions, evictions, and climate collapse while billionaires tweeted from their yachts. We already know wealth doesn’t make you happy. What The White Lotus demonstrates is that, on top of this, the pursuit of wealth can make you even worse off. The rich aren’t the aspirational goal—they’re the cautionary tale. And this show lets us watch them unravel, episode by delicious episode.
Burn It Down
If there’s one thing Gen Z craves, it’s not just recognizing the problem. We want to do something about it. Enter the rebellions.
In Severance, it’s subtle at first. The innies don’t even know what they’re rebelling against—they just feel that something isn’t right. Over time, they piece together the truth and risk everything to break the illusion. It’s a powerful metaphor for waking up in a world that was never designed with you in mind. The moment they decide to fight back is less about strategy and more about refusing to be numb. It’s hopeful, without being naive.
And while The White Lotus isn’t exactly a story of organized resistance, it gives us small rebellions, like hotel employee Belinda confronting the wealthy Greg about his past actions (and taking a large sum of his money), or Piper’s desire to move to Thailand after graduation despite her family’s expectations. These aren’t revolutionary movements, but they’re rebellions of refusal—to play nice, to play dumb, to play along. That’s the energy Gen Z brings to the table. Not because we think we’ll win, but because we refuse to keep losing quietly.
So Why Do We Love Watching the System Fall?
It’s not just dystopia for drama’s sake. We’re watching the system crumble on screen because we already see the cracks in real life. These shows let us process that, and maybe even laugh at it. They give us catharsis, a little dark comedy, and just enough rebellion to keep us dreaming.
This feeling of watching the system crack under its own weight also runs through the latest season of Black Mirror, where the exploration of tech-driven capitalism reaches new heights. The 7th season exposes everything from the chilling consequences of surveillance to the exploitation of personal data, reminding us of the deep dysfunction behind the tech we rely on. Like Severance and The White Lotus, Black Mirror reveals how these structures, built on wealth and control, ultimately trap those who think they’ve mastered them. The familiar chaos we see in these shows reflects the disillusionment many Gen-Z viewers feel in their own lives.
We're not here for tidy endings or perfect heroes. We’re here for the slow burn, the unraveling, the delicious chaos of watching power structures eat themselves alive. If late-stage capitalism is the house we were handed, we might as well enjoy the flames.