Four Things People Get Wrong About Making Friends Once You Have a Job

"If you have to try to make a friend, it isn't a real friend."

I believed that sentence for three years. I am twenty-eight, a graphic designer at a company of forty people in Đà Nẵng, and since graduating I have not made a single new friend. It is not that anyone at work is unpleasant. Quite the opposite, my coworkers are kind. It is just that every lunchtime I eat with my screen, every Friday evening I hear the other group arranging a night out and wonder whether I am "invited," and I kept assuming this was simply how things were.

I used to think so, and I am fairly sure I was not alone in that. Below are four beliefs I held, so reasonable-sounding I never thought to check them, and with each one a small thing I tried.

Before anything else: this is not a trick for collecting lots of friends, and it does not say that having no close friend at work means something is wrong. Plenty of people live well with a few easy acquaintances. It is only for someone who would like one more person and has got stuck on a belief.

Two myths about starting

Real friends arrive on their own, forcing it isn't real

The myth: if two people suit each other they will just become close, and having to arrange, to ask, to remember proves they do not suit.

One lunchtime I sat counting the friendships I have had. The closest were from university: four years in the same lecture hall, seeing each other daily, eating at the always crowded noodle place outside the gate. I took us to be close because it was "natural." But on a careful count nothing was natural. The timetable had simply put us in the same place, at the same hour, over and over, and nobody had to decide anything.

The truth is that "natural" is often built by a shared place, not by two people being so well matched they need no effort. Once work begins, the timetable disappears, yet I kept waiting for friendship to arrive as though it were still there. So the job is to build a small shared place back, by hand.

The way to try it is in the box below. I picked Tín from engineering, whom I had nodded at for a year, and the broken-rice place on the ground floor.

The first time I sat across from Tín with nothing to say beyond the broken printer. The first fifteen minutes felt stiff, and then I realised Tín felt stiff too. After three weeks, some people find the talk grows longer and easier, and some still feel each time is brand new, and both are normal, because a shared place needs time to become a familiar one. On a busy day, just keep the place and the hour: even five minutes over a glass of iced tea counts.

Where it slips: inviting for something big so as to "seem close," like a weekend drinking night or a day trip. It is tempting because it sounds like a leap to friendship, but for someone you do not yet know well, a big invitation is a burden, and they have plenty of reasons to decline. Small and repeated is how people really get close.

They already have their own group, joining in would be a bother

The myth: the three at the back desk are already close, and if I cut in it will be awkward for everyone.

I stood in the pantry doorway with a peach tea in my hand, watching three people laughing at something I could not hear. I thought: they are having such a good time, if I walk over I will spoil it. Then I went back to my desk.

What I did in that moment was guess on their behalf. I decided for three people that they did not want anyone else, when they had never said so. And under that is another layer: I was more afraid of being refused than of being a bother. If it is only "cutting in," anyone would hesitate. But asking for something small is different from cutting in. I could ask:

"Tín, do you know a copy shop nearby that's still open this late?"

"Yes, the one at the head of the alley over there, until seven."

"Thanks, that saves me running around."

That was all. I did not ask to join, did not try to say more. One real question, one thank-you, then I stepped away. After a week, two or three people in the group started nodding at me in the corridor before I nodded first, some changed nothing, and I did not insist that anything change.

The first time, after asking I found the afternoon dragging, and wondered whether asking like that was silly. That is normal. On a busy day just keep one thing: a nod and a smile while passing. Where it slips is trying exactly once, getting a curt answer, and concluding "they don't want me." It is tempting because it spares me from trying again. But a curt answer may only be someone in a hurry. If you are the newcomer at your workplace, a letter to the new colleague this week may be a place to sit for a while.

Two myths about keeping

I message first and they do not reply, so they do not like me

The myth: people who like me will answer fast, answer at length, and invite me back.

Once I posted in the department chat: "Anyone free for coffee this weekend?" Two people reacted with a thumbs-up, three said nothing, one wrote "let me see." The weekend passed, nobody asked again. I concluded at once: they don't like me.

The truth is that there are dozens of reasons for not replying, and "dislikes me" is rarely among them: they are busy, they read it while riding, they do not know how to answer politely. And beneath that sits another layer: a vague invitation like "anyone free" is hard to answer, because it makes people plan, decide and take responsibility on their own. A vague line tends to get silence back, and I read that silence as a refusal.

Next time I asked differently. I messaged one person, Ngân from accounting: "This Saturday I'm going to a café on Lê Duẩn, around two to half past three. Want to stop by?"

"Oh, I'm busy Saturday, sorry. Two weeks from now?"

"Sure, I'll message you again in two weeks."

With a day, hour, place and length, people can answer straight away, and even a no is clear and comes with an open door.

The first time I pressed send I felt anxious, and waiting for a reply was harder than I expected. Leave the phone face down. After a week, some people find the replies much clearer, some still meet silence, and I found both told me something useful. On a busy day just keep one template: day, time, place, then send.

There are two places it slips. One is giving up after two attempts with no answer. The other is starting a ledger: I messaged three times, they messaged zero, so they probably do not care. That ledger is tempting because it sounds fair, but slow friendships do not run on that kind of fairness. The swap: drop the ledger, let whoever invites invite, as long as nobody stands waiting forever.

Being close means telling deep stories

The myth: friends are people you can tell anything, so if I cannot yet share something big, they are not friends.

Lunch break, a table of six, everyone talking about the new boss, about a contract. I sat nudging a piece of braised fish, feeling I had no story "worthy" of telling, so I smiled and nodded. I went back that day feeling I had sat at the table without being there.

Under that sits a belief: I have to offer something deep, something real, before I count as close. But closeness often starts with small repeated things: today's soup was too salty, the office chair creaks, this morning I dropped my keys down a drain. Small stories ask nobody to react correctly, so listeners feel free to answer. Telling a deep story too early makes both people awkward, and the listener does not know how to hold it.

The first time I told the one about the keys down the drain, Ngân burst out laughing and told me about the time she dropped her phone into a jar of fish sauce. I would not say that conversation made us much closer, but it made the table feel less foreign. After a week, some people find they start being asked about little things, and some notice no change. On a busy day, one sentence is enough.

Where it slips: forcing a private story to speed up closeness, like family matters or money. It is tempting because it feels like opening up. But opening early often leaves the other person flustered, and I feel more exposed than I truly wanted to be. The swap: let depth come later, once enough small stories are standing underneath it.

If you tried and it did not work

Two reasons come up often. First: you do it all right and still no one gets closer after a few weeks. Perhaps your workplace has no place for people to linger together, or the people around you move at a very different rhythm. Then try widening the shared place beyond the office: an evening class, a regular café, a group built around some hands-on work. The shared place can be anywhere.

Second: you feel tired from doing so much for something that should not take effort. That feeling is real. Some people suit fewer, deeper acquaintances over many shallow ones, and quality over quantity is also a sound way to live. Nobody requires you to have a group.

On the Tuesday of the fourth week I sat in the broken-rice place with Tín and Ngân, two people I had not invited together at the start. Tín had just finished telling the printer story for the second time. I noticed the iced tea in front of me had lost all its ice at some point.

When to seek professional support

This article is four common beliefs and a few small things to try when you would like to make friends. It cannot replace treatment, and I am not promising that following it will bring new friends.

But here are a few signs you should bring to a professional, rather than carrying them alone:

• You feel very afraid or very weighed down whenever you have to talk with coworkers, to the point of avoiding work
• A feeling of having nobody beside you lasts for weeks and grows heavier, even after you have tried many things
• Your eating, sleeping or work changes noticeably
• You think about hurting yourself, even if it is just a passing thought

The last point cannot wait. Speak with someone you trust, today. The Emergency Support page explains what holds true in moments like that.

Asking a professional to walk with you is as ordinary as asking someone who knows the roads to point the way when you are lost.