Why Working From Office in India Feels Like a Netflix Thriller
Returning to the office in India was supposed to be a sign of post-pandemic normalcy. Instead, it’s turned into a psychological rollercoaster — complete with plot twists, unbearable suspense, and a touch of dark comedy. For many Indian professionals, working from office (WFO) doesn’t just feel like a job — it feels like a full-blown Netflix thriller where you’re the lead actor and the unwilling extra.
It all begins at 7 AM, when you wake up in the hopes of having a productive day. You dress your best — pressed shirt, polished shoes, maybe even a splash of perfume — and step out into the chaos of urban India. What follows is a two-hour journey through bumper-to-bumper traffic, potholes that rival craters, and cab fares that make you reconsider your career choices. All this effort, only to arrive at your desk and log into the same Zoom meeting you could’ve attended from the comfort of your bed.
Once you’ve settled in, the much-awaited face-to-face interactions with colleagues finally happen. But the reality isn’t quite what you imagined. That friendly, pixelated teammate from your remote days now comes with unsolicited opinions, strong perfumes, and the awkwardness of forced small talk. It turns out, some people really do look better on screen.
Then there’s the sacred ritual of grabbing a cup of “free” office coffee — a gesture of goodwill that’s anything but. One sip, and you’re hit with a flavor that’s less “caffeine boost” and more “burnt ambition.” You start to wonder if this is the same blend they use during performance reviews.
Speaking of which, remember those cheerful team lunches you missed? They’re back — but this time, they come with a twist. That cozy corner table at the North Indian restaurant isn’t just for bonding anymore. It’s where performance feedback is wrapped in polite conversation and served with butter naan and extra judgment. Somewhere between dal makhani and dessert, you realize this isn’t a social gathering — it’s a subtle assessment dressed as a thali.
Of course, no WFO thriller is complete without the battle over office temperature. The AC is set to “Arctic Expedition,” and your repeated requests to adjust it are met with the classic reply: “It’s company policy.” So you sit there — shivering, typing, and questioning your life choices — all while HR sends cheerful emails about mental health awareness.
Even the much-hyped Casual Fridays offer little relief. Yes, you get to wear jeans, but you’re still stuck in evening traffic that eats up half your weekend. And by the time you reach home at 9 PM, exhausted and hungry, your mom greets you with a cutting remark: “Aaj bhi kuch kaam nahi tha na?” The irony isn’t lost on you.
While work-from-home in India comes with its own set of distractions — like doorbells, barking dogs, and lunch breaks that stretch too long — working from office raises bigger, more existential questions. It’s not just about productivity; it’s about navigating a system that often values visibility over impact, presence over performance.
In the end, WFH might feel like a lighthearted sitcom. But WFO? That’s a suspense drama with unpredictable episodes, long runtime, and a storyline that leaves you emotionally drained.
So, the next time someone asks why you prefer working from home, just tell them: “Because I prefer my thrillers on Netflix, not in real life.”
