Most likely to say: "When you think about it, what is 'employment', Ian? Is it not more of a state of mind? Are we really ever clocked in or clocked out? We simply are." His out of office simply reads: "Phillip is ~vibing~ right now."
Awol Abigail
As if to prove that Philosophical Phil has a point, some senior figures with large companies to run continue to live far, far away, regardless of what's going on at the office.
People know Awol Abigail's still in charge, at least nominally, but haven't seen her in months. It is like working for a spirit, an unknowable energy who pulls the strings from another county, occasionally reminding employees she's alive by sending largely pointless emails.
Most likely to say: "If your email is urgent, please contact my deputy, Linda."
Hazmat Harry
You'll spot Harry within seconds. There he is, wandering over to the water cooler in his two masks, visor and gloves.
More than 26 months into the pandemic and he'll still offer the hand sanitiser and make pointed little shuffles backwards on his chair whenever anybody gets within two metres of his desk. He's quiet in meetings, silently hoping for another lockdown.
Most likely to say: "Is it OK if I dial into the meeting from the empty room next door? It's either that or I wear my full virus-hunter suit, and last time I did that you kept asking me if I'd lost my beehive."
Gus the Irrepressible Grad
Spare a thought for the overly excitable graduate trainees of the corporate world, who never had the opportunity to get unspeakably drunk after get-to-know-you drinks, use an expense account for the first time or stand outside a city-centre pub with colleagues, just living the dream.
Well, as the ONS survey suggests, compared to their midlife counterparts, young people are all in the office now and making up for lost time. Gus treats every week like it's the run-up to Christmas; filling his boots at the stationery cupboard, working his way through the coffee machine menu and joining in with every diversity-and-inclusion workshop he's invited to.
Most likely to say: "Desk buddies, it's a day ending in Y, isn't it? Then to the City Arms we go. No excuses, this is Wall Street, baby!"
You're Not at Home Joan
Joan is back in the office now, physically, but she's completely forgotten how to act. She brings in her laptop because she can't remember how to log in to the work computers, starts three hours late as rush hour's a bit on the busy side, uses the office kitchenette to make seafood risotto at lunch, and dresses mainly in layers of towelling material.
Most likely to say: "That movement in my handbag? Oh, I brought my greyhound Jessica in today. I'll need to walk her twice or she'll get tetchy in the town hall."
Terry the TW&T
In professional parlance, Terry's one of the Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays crowd. Wednesday's the new Thursday, which was the new Friday.
The TW&Ts' unfortunate acronym shows the envy, and slight disdain, of their MTWT&F (not quite as catchy, that one) peers. But who can blame them, when smug, sunkissed Terry sashays in from the commuter belt on Tuesday morning, having been impossible to reach on Monday and Friday, then vanishes again barely 48 hours later to spend more time cycling on Box Hill.
Most likely to say: "[Yawning dramatically on Wednesday afternoon, after precisely one day of work] Phewee, what a week chained to the ol' desko, eh?"
Castaway Colin
Despite a widespread return to life "as normal", some offices remain largely empty. But in many of them there is a lonely figure – or maybe a skeleton team – just drifting in space, manning the station while everyone else is at home. Colin's one of the older generation who, according to the ONS, are also more likely to be returning to the office than the midlifers. And thank God, as he alone props up the local cafe. He sees nobody, bar the security guard on the front desk, and has named all the office mice after colleagues he once knew. He's sure that people will be back soon. They can't have forgotten about him, can they?
Most likely to say: "[In a terrified voice, when a faraway security light triggers] Who goes there?!"
