WTWN #84 - The Art of Presence

Micro-Interactions, Visibility, and the Office Renaissance.

“Creativity comes from spontaneous meetings, from random discussions. You run into someone, you ask what they’re doing, you say ‘Wow,’ and soon you’re cooking up all sorts of ideas.” - Steve Jobs

The post-pandemic return to the office has been slow but inevitable across all industries. Some companies quickly reinstated five-day workweeks as the pandemic abated, while others hesitated, weighing productivity against a desire to offer flex schedules. IT companies, with their unique relationship to remote work—being both its architects and its practitioners—were often (though not always) among the last summoned back.

In my experience, the return to the office had been until recently left largely to individual discretion. Some colleagues appeared in the office once or twice a week, while others embraced the digital ether far from the cubicles and fluorescent lights.

I, however, was drawn back long before it was required—two to three days a week—discovering the office provided unexpected motivation. Despite the need to commute, I returned home feeling energized, as if the rhythm of office life aligned with something deeper, perhaps a hunter gatherer instinct which encouraged me to go out, get something done, and return home bearing takeaway food from the office cafeteria.

There is a paradox in freedom. One might think the absence of a commute would be liberating. But for me, it removed an invaluable liminal space. My commute (by bus and metro) was a place to rest between the personal and professional, a time I designated for reflection, reading, and writing (i.e. this Substack.) I harnessed my commutes, transforming them into more than mere transit. In their absence, I missed them. For example, I struggled to find time to read.

Constraints, when properly adapted to, often become enablers rather than burdens.

Beyond the obvious benefits of office presence—collaboration, efficiency, accountability, there is something more ineffable at play. Humans thrive on micro-interactions: passing comments in the hallway, impromptu discussions over coffee, 30-second exchanges that spark ideas or resolve unseen issues. These moments are impossible to schedule yet demonstrate the richness of shared space. Facetime is not just about being seen, but about participating in the serendipity enabled by collective intelligence.

And then there is visibility, both practical and existential. To be present is to be accounted for, to be considered. The fear that one might be perceived as disengaged is always present in remote work, no matter how disciplined or dedicated one may be. Those who are seen are remembered, and in this era of heightened competition for jobs, being out of sight may indeed translate into being out of mind. It’s my belief that there is also an ancient human need to be seen that helps affirm our self-worth.

There are inevitably downsides. The return to the office reintroduces old problems—added fatigue, potentially a messier home, the challenge of managing children’s after-school activities remotely. These are significant, yet they remind me of my own childhood spent returning to an empty house, learning independence in the quiet hours before my parents came home. Life is a series of adaptations, and what we return to is not just the workplace but an older rhythm.

The end of remote work is not just a logistical shift; it is a philosophical one. We need to ask if the norms we abandoned during the pandemic were arbitrary constraints or meaningful structures? Perhaps, in the end, the return to the office is about rediscovering something more fundamental—about work, about connection, and ourselves.