Using the policy as the only reason
«It’s company policy» ends the conversation and costs you the buy-in. You will get minimum attendance with headphones on, producing none of the intended effects — and proving her point for her.
A remote-work negotiation is won or lost on the justification. If you cannot name what office time actually delivers — which activity, with whom, for what outcome — the request reads as surveillance, and you will get physical presence without any of the interactions you were after.
Adrien VasseurUpdated
Nadia, a designer, has worked remotely for three years and delivers. The new policy says three days on site; she offers one and argues her case: commute, focus, results. You know the two new joiners are onboarding badly, that decisions are dragging, and that the open-plan office genuinely tires her. You also know that if you concede one case, three more requests arrive next week — and that if you impose without explaining, you lose someone who is hard to replace.
The two sides are talking about different things: you are thinking about collective work, transmission and fast resolution; she is thinking about working conditions, commuting and quality of focus. Neither is wrong, and neither argument refutes the other. There is also an evidence asymmetry: her individual results are measurable, while what office time gives the team is real but diffuse. Finally, the topic has become identity-loaded — a request to come back is often heard as a verdict on whether you trust her.
«It’s company policy» ends the conversation and costs you the buy-in. You will get minimum attendance with headphones on, producing none of the intended effects — and proving her point for her.
Any wording suggesting that distance means less engagement turns a scheduling negotiation into a personal attack. In someone who delivers, that is the single most reliable trigger for resignation.
Quietly conceding a special case creates an unofficial regime that will be known within days, and you will have no argument left to refuse the next one. An exception can be legitimate — but then it has to be explicit and reasoned.
Debating «two or three days» without defining what those days are for produces an arithmetic compromise nobody defends. The number follows from the purpose, never the reverse.
Waving away open-plan fatigue or commute length as an excuse cuts you off from the one solution that would have worked: changing the conditions of office time rather than its volume.
Replace the policy with an identifiable need: «I need you on site on workshop days and through the six weeks of onboarding for Léa and Sam, because that transmission doesn’t happen remotely.» A request anchored in a specific activity can be discussed; a volume requirement can only be endured.
Ask openly: «What costs you the most — the commute, the open-plan office, the rhythm?» The answers open options the days-per-week debate forecloses: a quiet room, shifted hours, on-site days grouped together.
Leave with something concrete: «Workshop Tuesdays, plus Thursdays during onboarding, and we review it on 15 June.» That kind of agreement holds because it is justified, dated and revisable — three properties a quota never has.
Whatever is not individually negotiable must be announced to everyone, with the same reasoning for all. An explicit rule, even a demanding one, generates fewer conflicts than a series of private arrangements that people discover by accident.