The Group Chat Is a Full-Time Job
By Ken Hollow, professional tab juggler and part-time actual worker Every freelancer has their own productivity kryptonite. For some, it’s TikTok. For others, it’s the…

By Ken Hollow, reluctant commuter in pajama pants
The great promise of remote work was freedom: no commute, no awkward breakroom small talk, no boss peering over your shoulder. Naturally, companies hated it. Enter the Return-to-Office mandate — the corporate equivalent of your parents telling you that “family dinners build character.” In reality, it’s just nostalgia for micromanagement dressed up as “restoring culture.”
Apparently, Zoom killed creativity. Not the endless meetings, not the lack of resources, not leadership’s questionable vision — no, it was working from your couch.
Return-to-office mandates aren’t about culture. They’re about:
It’s less about collaboration and more about proving they’re still in charge. “Culture” is just the bait. Micromanagement is the hook.
RTO means reviving the worst ritual of all: the commute. Wake up early, fight traffic, pay for parking, sit in fluorescent purgatory… only to spend all day on the same Zoom calls you could’ve joined from your kitchen.
But now you get to do it while drinking burnt coffee from a Keurig no one cleans. Collaboration!
Nana took one look at the RTO memo and laughed. She announced she would only return to the office if:
Shockingly, HR declined. So she staged her own RTO protest — appearing in the office unannounced at midnight, lighting candles, and declaring herself “Chief Culture Officer.” Honestly? Still more inspiring than any actual leadership speech I’ve seen.
Let’s be real: “office culture” was never free snacks and ping pong tables. It was:
Remote work didn’t kill culture. It just revealed how shallow it was to begin with.
Return-to-office mandates aren’t about collaboration, innovation, or culture. They’re about nostalgia for micromanagement and a desperate attempt to justify expensive office leases.
If companies really cared about culture, they’d stop forcing us into traffic and start respecting our time. Until then, I’ll be here in my pajama pants, declining your calendar invites.
Ken Hollow, pajama-clad exile from the fluorescent dungeon
Hi. I’m Ken. I run Two Second Solutions, a one-man agency that somehow landed a fox spirit influencer as a client. I drink too much coffee, blog when I need to vent, and regularly update my résumé just in case she sets the office on fire again. I’m not crying — it’s just spell residue.
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