Staffing

Ted Lasso, an empty office and workplace culture

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September 23, 2026 by Valerie Gritton

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I once started a new job where, on my very first day, I was shown the empty office of a woman who had died of breast cancer.

I didn't know her. I didn't know her story, how long she'd worked there or what she'd meant to the people around her. But I remember being shown her office. For starters, it made me extremely sad as I started to think about her family and the loved ones she left behind.

And it's an experience that has stayed with me.

When we start a new job, we're usually focused on making a good impression, using our skillsets and strengths, learning the ropes and figuring out where we fit. We're thinking about the opportunity ahead of us, not necessarily the people who came before us.

But being shown that office was a reminder that every position in an organization belongs to a person first. Someone with a life, a history, hobbies, relationships, and a story that extends far beyond the work they do. And that brings me to this week's Ted Lasso, "Follow the Anger" in which the AFC Richmond womens team is dealing with the aftermath of Gemma's knee injury. Meanwhile, Alice is struggling with the guilt over her decision to keep Gemma in the game, and Ted, being his usual self, is encouraging her, and the team, to "let it out." There's also Roy and Keeley, who are figuring out a few things of their own (and I love them for it).

For me, one of the episode's most powerful moments of the episode comes when Alice, usually more emotionally reserved, advocates for Gemma to remain connected to the team during her recovery. She doesn't want Gemma to be forgotten and passionately exclaims to team owner Rebecca: "She needs to know that she still matters. Not just as a player, but as a person."

And isn't that what every employee wants, whether they work on a football pitch, in a corporate office or behind the counter of a restaurant?

To know they matter beyond the job they're paid to do.

Employees are more than their shifts

Like professional sports teams, the restaurant industry is built around performance. Speed, accuracy, marketing, profitability. These are just a few of the areas that connect them both to each other -- whether at the corporate level or the store one.

But what happens when an employee suddenly can't perform? The restaurant still has to operate. Shifts have to be covered. Customers still expect their food, and the business still has to make money. However, there's a difference between filling someone's position and replacing their place within an organization. And that's the distinction this week's Ted Lasso asks us to consider.

When Gemma is injured, Richmond has to figure out how to move forward without her on the field. Alice, however, is thinking about something else: how to make sure Gemma still feels like part of the team even in her temporary absence. It's a small yet significant leadership lesson rooted in Alice's own personal experience of feeling forgotten. Because sometimes, the best lessons we can help someone else through, are the ones we've gone through ourselves.

What is truly workplace culture?

We talk a lot about workplace culture in the restaurant industry and I recently asked someone about what that truly means.

We also talk about employee engagement, retention, recognition and building a sense of belonging. Meanwhile, companies invest in training programs, scheduling technology, employee incentives and initiatives designed to make their restaurants and corporate offices better places to work. But I wonder if one of the truest measures of workplace culture is what happens when an employee isn't there.

Does anyone check in? Does the team remember them? And when they're ready to return, do they still feel like they belong? And when someone leaves permanently, does the organization honor what they contributed and if so, how?

Acknowledging that a person matters, or even made a difference, doesn't necessarily require a formal program, a large budget or a complicated initiative. Sometimes, like the woman's empty office, it simply starts with remembering that they were there.

I can't tell you what the woman who worked there was like. I can't tell you what kind of employee she was, what she accomplished or how she made her colleagues feel. But I know she was more than the office she occupied. And I think about how easily individuals can lose sight of that in an industry, and even in a society, where we're constantly measuring what people produce.

A great restaurant or corporate team isn't built solely on systems, technology or even great food. It's built by people. People who show up, solve problems, develop relationships, make mistakes, learn, grow and, sometimes, face circumstances that make it impossible to be present.

Long after someone leaves a position, the way an organization treated them can remain part of its story — and theirs. I never met the woman whose office I was shown that first day. But years later, I still remember her. And perhaps that's where the true meaning of workplace culture begins.

Not just in the work we do, but in the people we remember, both when they're a part of the team and away from it.