Kylie Klapp spent two years sending out 150 job applications before finally landing a position—though not the kind she originally wanted. The 24-year-old now works for a fully remote company where her colleagues exist as names in Slack channels and email signatures, never meeting around a water cooler because there isn't one.
Days pass without hearing a coworker's voice. Interactions are transactional: tasks assigned, deliverables submitted. "You give me a task, I give you an output," she explains.
Beneath the surface, Klapp worries about her career trajectory. "The job market is so bad right now. I need to network," she says. But remote work, ironically, has isolated her socially and professionally.
The Hidden Cost of Remote Work
Six years after the pandemic sent students home from school, Generation Z remains largely unfamiliar with traditional office life. Despite high-profile return-to-office mandates from executives like Jamie Dimon and Andy Jassy, remote work persists—and new research suggests it's creating a crisis for young workers.
A recent study from the London School of Economics analyzed over 400 million job postings across several countries and found that entry-level hiring has plummeted more than 14% since 2019. Companies that remained remote after the pandemic were significantly more likely to reduce junior hiring.
The reasoning is economic: Hiring entry-level workers is an investment in future skills, and the return depends on how quickly they learn. Remote work slows that learning curve, making young talent less attractive compared to experienced workers who can hit the ground running.
"It becomes this silent tax on senior time," says startup founder Jason Crawford, who notes that training junior employees remotely is far more expensive and time-consuming than in-person mentorship.
The Mentorship Gap
The implications extend beyond individual careers. "A persistent contraction of this kind hollows out the pipeline of future experienced workers, causing declines in aggregate productivity as well as imposing cohort-specific scarring," the LSE researchers warn.
Young workers themselves feel the gap. Software developer Darby Vernon previously worked at a remote-friendly company where only a handful of young, single employees bothered coming into the office. The convenience was undeniable—"You can roll out of bed five minutes before your morning meeting"—but the isolation was crushing.
As an introvert, Vernon would sometimes realize she'd gone an entire week without speaking to anyone except a restaurant server. Now a month into an in-person role, she sympathizes with peers still working from home.
"Sending someone a Slack message admitting 'I don't know what I'm doing' is harder than leaning over at lunch," she observes.
The Soft Skills Deficit
There's growing concern that remote work stunts the development of crucial "soft skills"—the interpersonal abilities needed to navigate workplace relationships, read social cues, and build professional networks.
The demand for soft skills training has spawned an entire industry. Influencer Grace McCarrick now works with companies like Amazon and Live Nation, teaching employees how to handle workplace social situations. She's also launched "the Soft Skilled School," charging young professionals a few hundred dollars monthly to learn everything from small talk at happy hour to projecting charisma. This month's theme? Charisma.
"You can have convenience when you're 45," McCarrick says, suggesting that young workers need in-person experience early in their careers.
A Generational Divide
Not everyone agrees. Less than 25% of Gen Z wants fully remote work, according to a recent Gallup poll, compared to over a third of older generations. A Deloitte survey found that only 6% of Gen Z and Millennials prioritize reaching leadership positions, while more than 40% say flexible work arrangements would heavily influence their decision to pursue leadership roles.
This has created factions within Gen Z itself. "I have a really hard time relating to peers that don't have the same experience as me," Klapp admits.
A thousand miles away in Stratford, Ontario, 24-year-old software developer Chris Stevers codes from his family farm. Yes, a cow once interrupted his Zoom call, and he recognizes he's missing networking opportunities by surrounding himself with farmers rather than tech professionals. But he values the flexibility to tend cattle while working and stay close to family.
The Layoff Factor
There's another dark side to remote work for young employees: it may make them easier to fire.
Matthew Manning has already held three remote jobs in three years since graduating in 2023. He's never shadowed a colleague, never really gotten to know his coworkers—and he's been laid off from both of his previous positions.
"I've never really gotten to know my co-workers," Manning says. "And I think it's easier to let someone go if you don't have a physical relationship with them."
A Fixable Problem?
Economists note that if remote work—not artificial intelligence—is to blame for the entry-level hiring slowdown, that's actually good news. The challenges of Slack and Zoom can be addressed through better policies, hybrid models, and intentional mentorship programs. If AI is eliminating junior positions, there's little that can be done.
For now, young workers like Klapp remain caught in limbo—grateful for employment but anxious about what they're missing, connected digitally but isolated professionally, enjoying flexibility while watching their career foundations potentially crumble.