Why I stopped trying to make friends at work.

Six years ago, I landed in London. It was the absolute peak of the pandemic, and I was stepping into a new world with a job transfer in hand. Moving across the world is daunting enough, but doing it when the world is shutting down is a different level of isolation. My introduction to the UK corporate scene was entirely virtual. I went from my familiar routines back home to sitting in front of a camera from 9 to 6, trying to decode a sea of strangers on a screen. Looking back, I realise I had absolutely no idea what living and working in the UK was supposed to look like.

And then, while navigating this cultural whiplash, I became a mother.

Experiencing pregnancy, childbirth, and those fragile early days of motherhood in a foreign land—completely cut off from the deep network of family and lifelong friends I left behind in Asia—was the ultimate test of resilience. There were no grandmothers arriving to help, no childhood friends dropping off meals, and no neighbourhood welcomes. It was just my husband, our new-born, and my corporate laptop.

The myth of the “let’s grab coffee” catch-up

Back home in Asia, community is collective. Communication is deeply implicit, built on unwritten layers of trust, and relationships run deep. When people say something, they mean it.

In London, I found myself drowning in British humour and phatic expressions. Out of a desperate desire to blend into my new social circles and find a sense of belonging, I would laugh at jokes I didn’t understand. I took every “We must grab a coffee sometime!” completely literally. In Asia, when we say coffee, we do it that same day or at least the same week itself.

As a new mum craving human connection, I chased after appointments that were continuously postponed. I waited for catch-ups that never came to fruition. It felt like one-hand clapping. My biggest regret from those early days was my own vulnerability. I shared my personal stories, my struggles as a new mother trying to manage it all, and my history, thinking I was building bridges. To them, it was just filler text for a daily conversation that meant nothing.

The realisation hit me like a cold British rain: I was taking their words seriously, but I was never actually part of anything real. The great Tang Dynasty poet Du Fu (杜甫) captured this exact corporate exhaustion centuries ago in his poem Yuan Ri Ji Wei Shi Mei (元日寄韦氏妹):

见面无他语，十句九寒暄.

When we meet, there are no other words; nine out of ten sentences are just empty pleasantries about the weather.

Shifting the mindset: it’s business, not personal

The first two years were the hardest. When constant anticipation kept turning into disappointment, I had to force a mindset shift to survive.

The hard truth of corporate life—especially as an expat—is that not every colleague wants to be your friend. Some are just practising polite diplomacy; others are just building strategic networks. To protect my peace, my time, and my energy as a working mum, I drew a line. I stopped expecting.

Today, my professional relationships are built on a simple rule of reciprocity: If you prioritise me, I mirror that energy. If you don’t, I don’t waste my time. I manage my expectations, I don’t take empty promises seriously until actions prove them, and I keep it strictly professional. More importantly, respect can only goes to people who earned it.

Conclusion: meeting in the middle

Navigating a corporate career while simultaneously building a young family in a foreign country has taught me that creating a truly inclusive workplace requires a two-sided mirror. It is not just about adapting to a new environment; it is about both sides making an effort to bridge the cultural divide.

• For the expats and foreign colleagues: It is vital to learn the local corporate language without losing your boundaries. Drawing a line between “colleague” and “friend” isn’t cynical—it is a healthy, necessary form of self-preservation. It allows you to protect your emotional energy so you can focus on what truly matters: performing well at work and nurturing your family at home. You do not need a village of superficial connections when you can cultivate a small, genuine circle of real support.
• For the local teams and leaders: True cultural inclusion goes far beyond HR checkboxes, diverse hiring quotas, and obligatory team-building exercises. It requires a genuine understanding that your foreign colleagues are often navigating an invisible, heavy layer of isolation. They might be learning how to be a parent, how to manage a household in an unfamiliar system, and how to excel in their job all at once—completely devoid of the safety net of an extended family nearby.

The next time you casually tell an expat colleague, “We should grab a coffee sometime,” remember that they might be holding onto those words as a genuine lifeline for connection. Let us move past the empty pleasantries about the weather, mean what we say, and build workplaces where inclusivity is not just a polite phrase tossed around in meetings, but a practised, daily action.