Governments discover you can't order people to commute without, ironically, offices
On July 1, 2026, California Governor Gavin Newsom's return-to-office mandate took effect, doubling the state's in-office requirement from two days to four days per week. At least 90,000 state employees were ordered back to government offices. By July 7, the experiment was already revealing what should have been obvious: you cannot mandate your way out of a logistics problem.
The audit findings were damning. The governor's office had not gathered important information about space needs and costs before ordering employees back. Some departments simply did not have the workstations. At the Employment Development Department, entire groups will have to be phased back into the office—not because they're lazy or unreliable, but because there is nowhere to sit them. This is not speculation. This is not theory. This is the physical reality of what happens when you end office leases during a pandemic and then suddenly demand those spaces return into existence.
A California Department of Social Services employee captured the moment perfectly: "It's a lot of chaos because seating, preparation, those things they haven't quite figured it all out yet." This is the sound of a mandate colliding with infrastructure. It is not the sound of reform working.
California is not alone in discovering this particular wall. Canada's federal government has required its public servants to return four days per week, creating the same space shortage crisis. Audits have confirmed what anyone who has worked in a government building should have anticipated: there simply isn't enough room. The infrastructure was dismantled. You cannot reinstall it overnight by memo.
What makes this moment instructive is not the failure itself—mandates were always going to fail—but the way they fail, and what that failure reveals about how corporations and governments actually value work.
Consider the numbers with fresh eyes. A 2025 analysis found that mandatory in-office attendance consumes between 3 percent and 11 percent of gross salary for the average federal employee, depending on commuting distance and method. For many workers, this represents 10 to 15 percent of take-home pay. This is not trivial. This is money that was previously spent on childcare, on rent, on food. Now it is spent on fuel and transit and parking, on the hidden tax of commuting. State employees in California have been publicly protesting, including members of SEIU Local 1000, the California Association of Professional Scientists, and the Professional Engineers in California Government. They are not protesting the principle of working. They are protesting the mathematics of a decision made without consulting them.
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The broader data tells a story that governments and corporations would prefer to avoid. Fifty-five percent of Fortune 100 companies now require five-day office attendance. Yet required office time increased by 12 percent from 2024 to 2025, while actual attendance rose by only 1 to 3 percent. This is the mandate paradox: the harder you push, the less people comply. Around 53 percent of remote-capable employees said they would seek new jobs if forced into full-time return-to-office arrangements. The threat is not abstract. It is a labor market fact.
More than one-third of employees still work from home despite widespread return-to-office mandates. They are either exempt, or they are ignoring the mandate, or they have already left. The policy has failed to produce the desired outcome, yet the policy persists. This is what happens when leadership mistakes announcement for implementation.
There is an illuminating counterpoint to all this, one that reveals what corporate hierarchies actually value when they think no one is watching closely enough. Goldman Sachs and JPMorgan Chase have allowed remote work for the World Cup. Yes, you read that correctly. Two of the largest and most conservative financial institutions on earth have granted flexible work arrangements so employees can attend or follow the World Cup. The message is clear and unambiguous: when something matters to the company—when it is a business event, a brand opportunity, a chance to appear human and permissive—sudden flexibility appears. Suddenly the office is not sacred. Suddenly the infrastructure is not critical.
This is the true scandal of the return-to-office mandate moment. It is not that remote work is impossible. It is not that offices lack purpose. It is that the purpose of the mandate was never about productivity or collaboration or corporate culture. The mandate was about control, about the reassertion of hierarchy, about making visible the power to move bodies through space. When that control conflicts with something the company values more—like the optics of allowing employees to watch football—the mandate dissolves.
California's four-day requirement will continue. Canadian federal workers will continue protesting. There will be more audits, more chaos about seating, more employees calculating whether they can afford this new geography of work. Some will leave. Some will comply. Some will find themselves in offices designed for people who no longer exist, in a pre-2020 configuration that the world abandoned.
But the hierarchy is now legible. You cannot order people to commute. You can only order people you believe you own. And increasingly, workers have decided they are not owned. The mandate has revealed this. The logistics have simply made it visible.
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Photo by Egor Komarov via Pexels
Priya Mehta
Staff writer covering financial markets and corporate strategy. Has strong opinions about spreadsheets.