Here we are in 2024, and downtown San Francisco still feels like a dystopian glimpse into our future. The grim reality that’s been forecasted for years has finally hit, and it’s hit hard.
The last two administrations gambled on an unsustainable economic strategy, and now we’re living with the fallout. The city’s middle class has all but vanished, taking with it the vital components that keep a city alive. If you didn’t lock in a home before the mid-nineties—or if you’re not pulling in a six-figure salary—you simply can’t afford to live here anymore.
CEOs who once flooded the city with new office leases, along with big developers and the usual suspects at City Hall, are now scrambling to salvage what’s left of their investments. And, predictably, they’ve found their scapegoat: the remote worker.
The rallying cry to drag the workforce back to the office is being touted as the magic bullet for San Francisco’s woes. Sure, it might offer some short-term relief, and I get why they’re pushing it. But the damage is already done. People would rather relocate to places where they can actually live a decent life than continue to struggle in this untenable situation.
Small businesses are collapsing, the remaining middle-class residents are either retired or on the brink, and the workforce that keeps the city running—cops, firefighters, hospitality workers—can’t afford to live here. And honestly, who could blame them for not wanting to?
I wish I had a clear solution to this mess, but one thing I’m certain of: bullying remote workers back into the office isn’t it. Sure, it might weaken their bargaining power for a while, but it won’t resurrect the Silicon Valley dream.
What’s clear to me is that remote work isn’t the problem—it’s part of the solution.