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what netflix’s squid game taught me about my anxiety and perfectionism.
Words by Grace Atta Squid Game was Netflix’s 2021 ground-breaking, Korean, twisted thriller-drama-allegorical series. The show is still Netflix’s number one most watched content, recording 1.65 billion hours of viewing in its first 28 days. Yet, despite all this hype, I was very late to the (Squid) Game… pun unashamedly intended. It took me ‘til early January of this year, on a desperately needed lazy day at home – after jumping from exam stress to full-time retail work during the festive season – to watch the hit show. As I binged its nine episodes in all its gory, morbid, dystopian and yet (per the genre) necessary commentary on the inequalities formed through capitalism…I was unaware that the most personally confronting element of the show, would in fact present itself to me in the weeks to follow. For those who have not seen the series (and as a recap for everyone who has) the show depicts the bankrupt, outcasted, indebted ‘participants’ (our main characters) being faced with several challenges they must complete, to survive and win the prize money they so desire. In every instance, one small mistake has deadly consequences. Literally. One twitch of a muscle, one millimetre lacking precision, one slipping grip, one flawed estimate, one wrong step, and they weren’t just out - they were dead. They were playing children’s games, gambling the most valuable thing we possess…life. In the weeks following my viewing of Squid Game, I began to almost playfully reflect on this concept. Out driving one day, I went to turn into my chosen park and realised halfway through that I would need to reverse and adjust my position to fit in the spot safely. At that moment, I quietly thought to myself, ‘huh, if parking in one swift move was a squid game, I’d be dead right now’. On another day, I was at work and – sensing the rush of the customer, with their hovering card at the ready – mistakenly hit the payment button too soon. The last item of their transaction didn’t add to the total on our system and left me with the awkward explanation of having to process a second payment. A minor and rare error, of no greater consequence than a 15 second inconvenience and yet I couldn’t help but say to myself ‘Thank God working at this register wasn’t a squid game…’ Little moments like these continued to surface, and in more and more mundane, yet irrational ways. An extended awkward pause during a conversation. A single
