4 days ago
The Hidden Cost Of Remote Work: Lost Rituals And Human Moments
Stressed remote worker
Remember the last time you received a fresh stack of business cards?
I remember mine came in two neat bundles. Thick cardstock. Crisp edges. Raised ink. To anyone else, they may have looked like just stacks of paper. But to me, they held something more. Identity. Connection. Possibility.
Each card felt like a future conversation waiting to happen. Who would I hand this to? What would that exchange mean? A future client? A collaborator? A vendor? Maybe even a friend. The act itself, the handoff, the glance, the small moment of recognition, was more than transactional. It was relational. It said, I see you. I may want to work with you. Let's find out.
The last stack I got was in 2019. I haven't needed one since.
That loss feels irrational but real. There are new digital versions of a business card. But it's not the paper I miss. It's what the paper represented. A ritual of presence. A symbol of becoming. A small act that carried weight.
And the more I traveled, the more I realized it wasn't just my ritual. It was a ritual that meant something around the world. Having worked across countries, I've gained a deep appreciation for ritual.
I learned that in Japan and Thailand, it's customary to hand out the card with both hands, with a short bow in Japan. In America, the card and the Rolodex were once part of a powerful directory of relationships. In India, I saw leaders flip through entire binders of cards like living archives of conversations. I also learned never to bend a card or hand out a worn one, especially in Asia, where that could be seen as a sign of disrespect.
These weren't idiosyncrasies or outdated protocols. They were quiet reflections of what people valued. Presence. Care. Mutual regard.
Exchanging business cards was one ritual that is now going increasingly extinct. But it's far from the only one.
Hybrid/Remote life is here to stay. It's efficient. It works. But in the process, many of the rituals that once grounded us have quietly disappeared.
Calendar slots stack like bricks. No thresholds. No transitions. One click and you're in. One click and you're out.
We used to pause before a big conversation. Now we're replying to emails until the very second a Zoom starts. We used to walk someone out after a difficult conversation. Now we close a tab. We used to debrief in the hallway after a high-stakes meeting. Now we click into the next call. We used to welcome new hires with a lunch, a laugh, a nameplate. Now they log in from home and hope someone remembers their name.
We didn't just lose face time. We lost face. The small graces of presence. The cues that made people feel real to each other.
That disconnection isn't just felt. It's measurable. And the data shows it.
In a Harvard study with over 1,100 participants, researchers found that teams who practiced simple rituals felt more meaning in their work. These rituals included a physical action, an emotional expression and a shared sense of purpose. They didn't need to be complex. What mattered was the connection they created. People who took part in the rituals were more likely to see their work as purposeful and to support their teammates.
This matters now more than ever. Gallup's latest research shows that fully remote workers report higher levels of daily stress and disconnection. The absence of workplace ritual may be part of the reason.
Fully remote workers report more daily stress and loneliness than hybrid or on-site employees. They're less likely to be thriving in their overall lives, even when they're more engaged in their work. In fact, only 36 percent of fully remote workers say they're thriving, compared to 42 percent of hybrid workers and 42 percent of on-site remote-capable workers. They also report higher levels of sadness, anger and disconnection.
Remote-Employees-More-Likely-to-Experience-Negative-Emotions
The office doesn't guarantee connection. Hybrid works. But connection still requires intention—and ritual is how intention takes shape.
Even well-meaning leaders fall into the trap of efficiency. We default to auto-generated onboarding emails. We congratulate someone's promotion with a bullet point on a slide deck. We run meetings that move quickly through tasks but leave no space for reflection or pause.
These aren't rituals. They're systems. And systems without presence tend to feel empty.
If we want culture to feel alive, we need to hold space for what makes it human.
Rituals are not the same as routine. A recurring meeting is a routine. A question asked with care is a ritual. One manages time. The other shapes belonging.
We don't need to go back to old practices. But we do need to go forward with new intentionality. You don't need to bring back name cards. You just need to bring back names. You don't need fancy onboarding videos. You just need a real welcome. You don't need to stand when someone enters a room. You just need to notice when someone does.
Before the slides and updates, take a moment. Just one breath. A pause to let managers arrive, not just log in. In busy workdays, small rituals like this remind us: we're not just here to talk, we're here to connect.
Consider these simple actions that can bring more presence, intention, and meaning into everyday team moments.
If we let automation take over, everything speeds up. But meaning needs slowness. Rituals ask us to linger. To witness. To care. Without them, even great strategy feels hollow. Even smart work feels forgettable.
And the paradox is this. The more digital we become, the more ritual we need.
To anchor us. To humanize us. To remind us that behind every mute button is a person.
Not all rituals survive. But the ones that do, do something timeless. They help people feel seen in systems designed for speed. They make space for dignity in places ruled by metrics. They offer a rhythm when everything feels out of tune.
We may never bring back the name cards.
But we can bring back what they stood for. Attention. Presence. The quiet dignity of being known. Because we are not just here to work. We are here to matter. What small ritual might you bring back tomorrow, to make the workday feel more human again?
