60% of Workers Say They Have a 'Work Enemy'—and One Author's Fix Is Pure TV

Sixty percent of workers admit they have a "work enemy," according to a 2019 survey of more than 7,000 employees conducted by Totaljobs, the United Kingdom's largest job listing platform. Almost half of those polled had at least one such adversary, 43 percent had more than one, and nearly 10 percent said they regarded most of their colleagues as enemies. Those figures frame an essay by Timm Chiusano, excerpted from his new book, How to Get Addicted to Appreciation, and they describe a workplace problem that costs nothing to measure and everything to ignore.

Take the numbers in plain terms: if a ten-person team reflects the survey's averages, roughly six people on it would report at least one colleague they consider hostile territory. One person on that team would likely see nearly everyone as an enemy. Chiusano's stated goal is to shrink those percentages.

What is the proposed fix?

Chiusano's prescription is unorthodox: pretend you are living inside a sitcom. "Framing your situation as a sitcom allows you to view yourself as the protagonist of your own story," he writes. The technique, he argues, encourages workers to "channel the confidence and self-assuredness of iconic movie characters like Ferris Bueller or Elle Woods."

The argument has a cultural anchor. Chiusano points to The Office, which he says did not succeed because its characters "got along swimmingly." The show's appeal, he argues, came from watching people with very different personalities and goals collide in real time. The sitcom lens, he claims, converts colleagues you merely tolerate into "personalities and personas that are more endearing and easier to understand."

Note what the essay does not claim: it offers no productivity data, no longitudinal study, and no evidence beyond Chiusano's own experience. The promise of feeling less stuck rests on self-reporting.

Who is the model enemy?

Chiusano borrows his central example from Seinfeld. Newman, the postal worker who serves as archnemesis to Jerry Seinfeld's main character, cannot be avoided: the two live in the same building and share a best friend, Kramer, who is also Jerry's next-door neighbor. Jerry and Newman disagree on everything except the New York Mets, and they routinely call each other a "sworn enemy" or simply "pure evil." The greeting "Hello, Newman," delivered with calculated coldness, became one of the most iconic lines in television history.

The parallel to office life is Chiusano's point. "We all have our Newmans in life, especially at work," he writes. The colleague you cannot avoid—the one who shares your floor, your meetings, your projects—plays the same structural role Newman plays for Jerry.

Does the reframing hold up in practice?

Chiusano tests the idea on a hypothetical colleague he calls Barbara. As a conventional "work enemy," Barbara uses fear tactics and passive-aggressive communication, is short-tempered toward him, and is skeptical of his credentials. She is also, he says, difficult to trust as an advocate for change, and would diminish his role in a project to gain more control over it.

Reframed as a "sitcom frenemy," Barbara becomes more approachable in his telling:

• Her "quintessential Southern accent" brings levity to conversations.
• Her short fuse is predictable enough to cut off at the pass—or, failing that, to shrug off with "That's Barbara being Barbara."
• She protects her team "like a fierce mama bear."
• She is "incredibly intelligent" and delivers insightful monologues when least expected.
• Winning her over, he writes, "would make a great plot twist as the season progresses."

The caveat writes itself: changing the frame does not change Barbara's behavior, only Chiusano's reaction to it. He concedes as much implicitly, describing the technique as a way to feel control over "the dynamic of the relationship, as well as my own mood," not over the other person.

What can a reader actually take from this?

Chiusano says he built this perspective for nearly everyone he interacted with over the years, from the friendliest coworkers to his "archnemeses." The payoff he reports is modest and internal: he could "turn down the dial of any unpleasant interaction or tense conversation" at will. "I may not have been able to choose what was happening to me directly, but I could choose how to frame it," he writes.

His summary is the essay's core claim: by seeing himself as the main character of a "bizarre sitcom," he dictated how he spent his energy rather than letting work drama decide for him. That is a testable proposition for any reader with a Newman of their own—and the Totaljobs data suggests most readers have one. Whether a sitcom lens reduces the 60 percent figure is a question the survey, now several years old, cannot answer.