Remote Work Didn't Kill Culture. It Showed Us Who Culture Was Built For.
The Culture We Miss
Ask a room of senior leaders what remote work cost them, and someone will mention the hallway. The unplanned conversation by the coffee machine. The drink after work where the real decisions got made. The way you could feel the energy on a floor the week before a big deal closed.
I understand the nostalgia. I spent years building talent and culture programs inside a global consulting firm, and some of my favorite professional memories happened in conference rooms that smelled like burnt coffee and dry-erase markers.
But lately, when I hear that story, I ask a follow-up question. Who was in the hallway? And who wasn't?
Who the Hallway Was Built For
Office culture, at its best, felt organic. That's exactly the problem. Culture that "just happens" tends to happen for the people the space was designed around.
The parent who left at 5:15 for daycare pickup missed the after-work drink where the promotion conversation actually started.
The colleague managing a disability or chronic illness spent energy on a commute and an environment that wasn't built with them in mind, and had less left for the work itself.
The caregiver, the introvert, the person who didn't golf, the person who couldn't afford to live within an hour of the office.
The teammates in other cities and time zones, who were forever "the people on the phone."
None of this was intentional. Most of it wasn't even visible to the people who benefited from it. In financial services especially, I've watched talented people quietly opt out of advancement because the informal path to it ran through rooms they couldn't get into.
So when we say remote work killed culture, it's worth asking whether what we lost was culture, or proximity to power.
What Changes When the Room Gets Bigger
Remote and hybrid work didn't fix this. But they changed the default, and defaults matter.
When everyone is a square on a screen, the person dialing in from another city is no longer the afterthought. When meetings come with agendas and shared docs, the people who think best in writing get a voice alongside the people who think out loud. When work is judged by outcomes rather than by who was spotted at their desk at 7 p.m., the caregiver and the night owl compete on the same field.
I see this in my coaching work. Clients who would never have raised a hand in a packed conference room find their footing in a chat thread or a well-run virtual meeting. Leaders who once relied on "I'll know it when I see it" have had to spell out what good performance actually looks like. That clarity is an inclusion practice, even if nobody calls it one.
Remote work also widens the talent pool. A firm in Manhattan can hire someone in Ohio or upstate New York without asking them to uproot a family. That isn't a perk. It's access.
What It Costs (Because It Does)
I'd be doing you a disservice if I painted this as a clean win. Remote work has real costs, and they don't fall evenly either.
Early-career professionals often lose the most. So much learning happens by osmosis: overhearing how a senior colleague handles a tough client call, getting pulled into a meeting because you happened to be nearby. That doesn't happen on its own over video.
Not everyone has a quiet home office. For some people, remote means a laptop on the kitchen table, shared space, and spotty Wi-Fi. And loneliness is real. Some of us need the office as much for connection as for the work.
Then there's the hybrid trap. A new in-group can form around whoever is in the office on the days the boss is. That's the hallway problem with extra steps.
So the real question isn't remote versus in person. It's whether we're designing culture on purpose, or leaving it to whoever happens to be in the room.
Culture by Design, Not by Default
If culture no longer happens automatically, that's not a loss. It's an invitation to build it on purpose. A few places I'd start:
Make the informal formal. Mentorship, sponsorship, stretch assignments. If those used to happen over coffee, decide how they'll happen now, and who's checking that everyone gets access.
Write down what good looks like. Clear expectations protect the people who aren't in your line of sight.
Run meetings for the person furthest from the room. One remote, all remote. Agendas in advance. More than one way to contribute.
Gather with intention. Bring people together for the things that genuinely benefit from it: onboarding, celebrations, hard conversations, creative work. Not for being seen.
Invest in your managers. They carry culture now more than any office ever did. Give them the skills to build connection deliberately.
A Final Thought
I don't think the office is the enemy, and I don't think remote work is a cure-all. What it gave us was a mirror. It showed a lot of organizations that what they called culture was, in part, a set of habits that worked beautifully for some people and quietly shut out others.
That's uncomfortable to see. It's also useful. Culture was never the building. It's how people are treated, who gets heard, and who gets a fair shot. Those things can travel anywhere.
If you're working through what culture looks like for your team in a hybrid or remote world, I'd love to hear what you're seeing. My forever offer, 30 minutes spent together discussing what’s on your brain (for free). Let’s chat. https://calendly.com/definitionscoachingconsulting/30min
Casey Schaffer is the founder of Definitions Coaching & Consulting, a boutique coaching and consulting practice based in Chatham and Brooklyn, NY. Her work spans leadership development, professional identity, organizational culture, and talent strategy.
