The longing for in-person work goes beyond productivity—it’s about connection and camaraderie.
Text: There’s a feeling I’ve been trying to avoid, and you’ll understand once I explain. Imagine this: I’m watching my colleagues say insightful things during our weekly Zoom meeting, each one in their own Brady Bunch-style square. I’ve been observing them throughout the call. Someone’s dog barks, another person sneezes and mutes their mic, while the new intern has chosen a rainbow as their virtual background.
I appreciate being part of these small, everyday moments.
When the pandemic first hit, my friends in other industries told me how lucky I was—how perfectly remote work suited my profession as a writer. And I agreed, or at least I thought I did.
Now, as the meeting wraps up, my editor is closing the call. Some people perk up, ready to wave goodbye, while others remain indifferent, staring off into space. My heart races, my hands are sweaty, and I can’t help but wonder what my colleagues will do next. Will they grab lunch? Take a nap? Send memes on Slack?
Then, the screen goes black. It might sound dramatic, but each time it happens, I feel a sense of loss. Something important vanishes—a connection between me, my work, and my colleagues. Working from home often leaves me sluggish, but a good conversation with a coworker can lift my spirits. The more I crave those conversations, the worse the emptiness feels when the call ends.
Tapping and Clicking
Last year, I finally took a break after working straight through 2021. I hadn’t taken time off because I was always at home. Why bother? I might as well keep working, or so I thought. But I saved my vacation days for a long-awaited trip to Ireland to see family I hadn’t visited in two years. While in Dublin, I walked down an old pier with a longtime friend, trying not to trip on the cobblestones. Naturally, we ended up talking about work.
My friend is a physiotherapist, and every day is different for her. Sometimes she helps post-op patients take their first steps. Other times, she assists elderly patients with mobility issues. Her work is always hands-on and measurable—she can see her progress with every step a patient takes.
As we walked, I explained how I’ve been working from home for most of my career. She paused, raised her coffee like a trophy, and said, “You know what I just realized? Your job is just tapping and clicking.”
It was a lighthearted joke, but it struck me. What value is there in tapping and clicking all day? Couldn’t a monkey do my job? For the next few days, I spiraled into a dark place. At the bottom of that spiral, I reached a sobering realization: most work, especially in PMET roles, feels meaningless.
I don’t mean that my job (or yours) has no value. But it’s non-essential, especially when compared to my friend’s work. If I stopped tapping and clicking, the world wouldn’t end. But without my friend’s care, some elderly people might struggle to walk.
And it’s hard to build an identity around a PMET job. How many of us can genuinely say that our work is our passion or life’s purpose? Life coaches, bosses, and politicians might try to convince us that we are what we do for a paycheck. But they’re lying. They know it’s a convenient narrative.
When you strip away the human aspects of work—lunches with colleagues, office banter, collaboration—it’s clear why we spend our days tapping and clicking: because everyone else does it too. For most of us, there’s no alternative.
The Case for the Office
This brings me to my unpopular opinion: we need the office—not the pre-pandemic version, but a reimagined one. Of course, this won’t apply to everyone, but in my experience, work feels less unbearable when I can share it with others.
I’m less productive when isolated. Misery loves company, right?
Connection
I’m not here to debate remote productivity. What I care about is making work feel less existentially draining. And the key to that, for me, is connection. I used to roll my eyes at that word—it sounded like LinkedIn jargon. But that’s exactly what remote work has drained from my life—the sense of belonging to a larger group that cares about my presence.
Apparently, it takes a village to tap and click.
I reached out to Simone Heng, who specializes in human connection, to understand this better. She quickly countered an argument I expect to see on social media: “If you work in a toxic environment, of course, returning to the office isn’t ideal. I worked for a horrible boss with catty colleagues for years. Remote work would’ve been a dream.”
So, it seems some resistance to in-person work comes from people who don’t like their jobs. But if your workplace is truly intolerable, maybe it’s time to look elsewhere. A healthy work environment should feel safe and, at the very least, not miserable.
I also shared with Simone how I feel when Zoom calls end. She called it loneliness and said that social interactions can combat it. “Everyone’s need for connection is different, but we’re wired to seek groups. You can only suppress that instinct for so long.”
Even small, casual interactions can help fill that connection void. “Think about the little moments at the office—a nod in the hallway, a smile from the barista, or a colleague tapping you on the shoulder for a quick chat when you’re feeling drained. Those interactions keep you going.”
Digital Alienation
Video conferencing isn’t the same. I often feel emptier after a Zoom call than I did before it started. Simone described virtual connection as “junk food for the soul”—satisfying for a moment but ultimately leaving us unfulfilled.
There’s plenty of research on digital alienation, and ‘Zoom fatigue’ is a real phenomenon. It’s caused by constant eye contact, seeing yourself on-screen, and limited movement, all of which create a sense of burnout.
Fiona Maher, a psychologist in Singapore, mentioned that her clients often avoid digital therapy because it doesn’t provide the same level of connection. “People who are anxious or depressed—especially now—need real human contact. They’d rather wait for in-person sessions than continue online.”
For me, working from home has led to worse work-life balance. Being constantly available digitally makes it harder to switch off. Before the pandemic, my limited free time was sacred. Now, I’m in a toxic relationship with my computer. I spend hours scrolling and wondering where the time went.
Reimagining the Workplace
I’m fortunate to work for a company where returning to the office sounds appealing. But I know that’s not the case for everyone. While the ‘great resignation’ might not hit Singapore the same way it has in the US, I think employees will vote with their feet—changing jobs or industries based on work conditions.
The hybrid model seems to be the future, with some roadblocks like temperamental technology and the cost of maintaining office spaces.
But in short: I tap and click, I miss my colleagues, and I really don’t like my computer.
