Three Ways Managers of Hybrid/Remote Teams Can Promote Inclusion

My recent post about managing remote or hybrid teams prompted some good conversation. If you want to make sure you're not leaving anyone out, here are a few tips. What has worked for you?

The Wisdom of Gen Z

My newest mentor isn’t an elder or a peer.

It’s an entire generation.

Prompted by Ritu Bhasin’s moving post last week, I’ve been reflecting on Gen Z’s reputation for pushing back on workaholism. Anecdotally, they prioritize more balance and well-being. They don’t live to work—or at least they don’t accept that as inevitable.

What if they are right?

Like Ritu, I was groomed working in a law firm led by Boomers and traditionalists. They presented “the right way to work,” and I did what I thought I had to do in order to succeed. 

Yet at points in my life I knew that wasn’t working for me. Every time I had a kid, I would try to adjust. I moved in-house to get more regular hours. Being home by six was better than working around the clock. After my second child was born, I started my own practice, so I had more flexibility. But I was still billing at least 50 hours a week. And after the kids went to bed, that laptop was opened up again until I got my work done.

I felt productive…in a way. But if I work around the clock for someone else, when do I take care of my children—or myself?

The Boomers dedicated their lives to their jobs because their jobs returned the favor—with a lifetime of promotions, a community of colleagues, and pensions for retirement. Their salaries covered their families’ expenses, allowing spouses to manage the unpaid labor of child-rearing and housekeeping.

All of that is gone. 

So when I hear Gen-Z-ers talk about prioritizing their health and fulfillment alongside their professional contributions, I think to myself, how did they become so wise?

When I was a young associate, no one talked about wellness. Now the SJC in Massachusetts has an active committee on lawyer well-being. 

People are recognizing that all this stress is not helpful to us as humans. People are trying to find ways to keep themselves sane.

I admire the new generation for trying to create a new way of working. 

What has been your journey with work-life balance? Are you finding ways to create more opportunities for rest or outside activity? And are your organizations supporting this movement—or struggling with it?

Whose Comfort?

Ten minutes before the end of a recent workshop, a participant introduced a profound question for her colleagues to consider. 

“Whose comfort do we prioritize?”

We’d been discussing microaggressions: someone saying something or behaving in a way that excluded, insulted, or disrespected a colleague based on a stereotype or implicit bias. This diverse team was working on recognizing the impact, trying out responses, and learning from each other.

As we were summing up for the day, this participant prompted us to step back from an individual situation and look at the pattern. 

She said something like:

I hear us worrying a lot about how to respond to someone being inappropriate. 

What I want to know is, what about the person who was harmed by their behavior? 

If someone touches my hair, mispronounces my name, or tells me my English is so good, will this organization prioritize my well-being? I need to know that my comfort matters as much as theirs. 

If not, how can I feel safe and included here?

The emotion in her voice signaled that this wasn’t hypothetical. 

She called on her peers to be bold, active, and consistent in responding to microaggressions in ways that protect the dignity of those harmed first, even if that makes the person responsible feel bad in the moment.

It’s harder than it sounds. I may feel the impulse to laugh at a joke, even if it’s offensive. I mean, I don’t want to be rude.

But of course, it’s not me that’s rude; it’s the person who made the joke. 

And when I laugh, especially if others are present, I send a signal that the joke is okay. A signal picked up by others who might tell similar jokes, and also by those who are the target of the joke’s stereotypes.

Their discomfort should be more important than the potential discomfort of a person whose joke falls flat. 

And if I placate one person by laughing at their offensive joke, I am doubling down on the harm to the other person.

Changing this “culture of nice” takes practice, leadership, and even policy change. It is uncomfortable work.

For some of us—as this brave colleague reminded her peers—it’s been uncomfortable all along.