Remote work is a strange thing.
On paper, it’s efficient.
You get things done.
You hit deadlines.
You deliver results.
But emotionally and socially, it can quietly hollow things out if you’re not careful.
That’s something I felt very strongly during our recent Christmas party here in Davao City.
It was a fun-filled night, no doubt about that. Good food, games, laughter, and the usual holiday energy. But at the same time, it felt… strange. Strangely strange, if that makes sense. I was in a room full of people I technically work with—but most of them felt like complete strangers.
And that feeling stuck with me long after the party ended.
Remote Work Shrinks Your World Without You Noticing
I started working for Zywave in 2024, and like many modern companies, we work remotely. In the first few months, we had weekly chats. Nothing fancy—just regular conversations that helped us stay in the loop with one another.
Those weekly chats mattered more than I realized at the time.
They helped put voices to names. Faces to Teams handles. Stories to job titles. You learned who had kids, who liked traveling, who was quietly brilliant, and who cracked jokes to break the tension.
It created familiarity.
Not friendship necessarily—but human context.
When 2025 came, those weekly chats were removed.
Work continued smoothly.
Output didn’t suffer.
KPIs were still hit.
But something subtle disappeared.
Save for the few people we got to know during those earlier chats, the majority of the people we work with now are strangers.
Not in a bad way—just in a very real, very human way.
A Christmas Party That Felt Both Warm and Distant
The Christmas party was held on December 6 at 7 PM at Probinsya Buffet Restaurant, Tulip Branch, along McArthur Highway corner Tulip Drive, Matina, Davao City.
We were asked to come in casual wear, with shades of red or green. And to bring a gift for the gift exchange worth at least Php 300. We also had to sign and submit waivers ahead of time to attend.
Yeah—pretty early for a Christmas party, right?
But it made sense.
The next few weeks would be filled with deadlines as the year came to a close.
At least we got the celebration out of the way.
Andree, Nick, and I signed up to attend. Joy couldn’t make it because it conflicted with one of her advocacies outside of work.
Sayang—it would’ve been the first time we were physically complete as a team.
But that’s life.
We all have things we care about beyond work, and that’s okay.
When I arrived, I signed the call sheet and was handed a paper bag with non-alcoholic wine. I was given a choice between alcoholic and non-alcoholic. I chose non-alcoholic.
Nick, unfortunately, wasn’t able to attend.
He developed flu-like symptoms days before the event and was advised to rest.
So in the end, only Andree and I from our team were there.
Familiar Faces in a Sea of Unknown Ones
We ended up sitting with Lui, who’s from another team. Until now, we still don’t fully understand what her team does—but we’re pretty sure it’s extremely important to the company’s success.
Geniuses, basically.
The food was great. I especially loved the kropek—unlike any kropek I’ve ever tasted. The lumpia was also good. I kept going back to the food table to get more.
There was a stand-up comedian.
He was… bad.
Really bad.
I know the guy, and I know he’s shady, so I won’t name names.
His jokes were judgmental and heavily Bible-based. As someone who used to be a seminarian, I recognized the verses—and let me just say, they were wildly misinterpreted. Anyway, enough about him. He doesn’t deserve more words.
I joined the bato-bato pick contest and made it almost to the end before losing. I’ve never really been lucky with party games. Andree won something but gave it to Lui, which was a very Andree thing to do.
The Weirdness of Forced Familiarity
The gift exchange was… interesting.
There was a story being read, and every time the word “right” was mentioned, we passed our gift to the right. “Left” meant passing it to the left. In the end, you received a random gift from a random person. Well—not completely random, but close enough.
It was fun in a way.
You end up with something from someone you barely know, and that’s kind of what remote work can feel like if you’re not intentional about connection.
Why Keeping in Touch Actually Matters
Despite everything, I want to be clear: this doesn’t mean Zywave is a bad company. Quite the opposite. I still believe I work for a really good company.
A generous company, even.
But good companies are still made up of people—and people need connection.
When you don’t keep in touch, work becomes purely transactional. You stop seeing teammates as collaborators and start seeing them as just names on Teams. That’s when engagement quietly drops.
Keeping in touch doesn’t require weekly meetings or forced fun.
Sometimes it’s just checking in.
A casual chat.
A shared laugh.
A small moment that reminds you there are humans behind the work.
Ending the Night, Thinking About the Bigger Picture
When the party ended, I drove Andree to another event and dropped Lui off at her apartment since her boyfriend couldn’t pick her up. Then I bought some bread, and went home to write this.
This night made one thing clear to me:
Remote work gives us freedom—but it also requires effort.
If we don’t intentionally maintain relationships, distance slowly turns coworkers into strangers.
And once that happens, no amount of parties can fully fix it.
Keeping in touch isn’t about being close friends with everyone.
It’s about staying human in a system that makes it easy to forget we are.
And that, I think, is something worth remembering—long after the decorations come down and the year comes to a close.