Your Corporate Retreat Is On—But It’s Going To Be Weirder
Employees bond over a virtual lunar disaster or ‘80s-themed murder mystery.
Employees bond over a virtual lunar disaster or ‘80s-themed murder mystery.
At the last global sales meeting he attended before the pandemic, Jeff Chase went to Caesars Palace Las Vegas with about 60 colleagues, plus many of their spouses. In February, the biotech sales manager scouted a location for their next retreat, the Renaissance Aruba Resort & Casino, on Zoom. He never left his home in Indianapolis.
The woman organising the visit, travel entrepreneur Sarah Reuter, instructed him and 70 other attendees from the corporate world to locate sunglasses, a hairdryer and a refreshing drink in their homes. When the video panned to the Caribbean, they were asked to turn on their blow dryers to simulate a coastal breeze in their hair.
“Myself, no, I don’t have long hair, so I couldn’t do that part,” Mr Chase says. He still enjoyed the whirlwind tour enough that he’s planning to book one of Elevate Travel Co.’s virtual retreats for the company’s biannual sales meeting this fall.
Vaccines are now reaching many American workers, but some companies are in no rush to bring back the in-person off-site retreat. Instead, they’re turning to a host of increasingly elaborate virtual options, including murder mysteries staffed with actors, webcast trips to beach resorts and safaris, and purpose-built digital islands for multiday gatherings.
They’re not quite a substitute for the splashiest pre-pandemic corporate off-sites—where some participants might have slept in a castle or raced Fiat 500s around the Tuscan countryside—and usually require much less time and money. But they can still help employees bond and let off steam after months of working in unusual conditions, their participants say.
Sean Hoff, managing partner of Toronto-based corporate retreats company Moniker, says clients have started inquiring about in-person trips, but are holding off on deposits and flights until at least June. So he’s ploughing ahead creating a virtual island for an upcoming retreat of around 240 people for Webflow, a San Francisco website-design company.
Employees will participate in videogame-like team-building activities, including a boat-building race. They will inhabit customized avatars and gather in virtual locales like a “tiki hut” and a “treehouse” for small-group meetings.
“The HR team, for example, will be able to say, meet us over by the dock at 5 p.m.,” he says.
“I’m not going to lie, I was a little sceptical at first. But after a year of remote work I was so desperate to meet more of my colleagues that I just dived in,” says Allison Williams, an account manager based in St. Louis at Articulate, an e-learning software company. Articulate held a weeklong virtual retreat in early February with over 104 sessions, including virtual yoga and virtual escape rooms. Out of 291 employees across 10 time zones, 267 participated, according to a company spokesman.
Ms Williams taught a class to 45 colleagues on calligraphy and says she made a new friend, a “fellow pen nerd,” in the process. She also made new work friends through the happy hours at a virtual beach club staged on Remo, an online conferencing platform. There were various seating options, including a bar, fire pit, or surfboard-shaped table. Employees talked in small groups with whoever else gathered at each site.
Alejandra Sereleas, a vice president of accounting at the France-based videogame company Ubisoft, hired Moniker to stage a virtual, 1980s-themed murder mystery for her team of about 80 people last June.
The scenario is a wedding: The groom mysteriously drops dead after taking a sip of his drink. The participants meet eight suspects, all paid actors, and must interrogate them to solve the crime.
“We asked everyone to be in character and be creative, and sent them a wedding invitation before the event,” Ms Sereleas says. People embraced the theme, she says, donning side ponytails and chunky jewellery and setting ’80s-themed Zoom backgrounds like a Pac-Man maze.
After the murder mystery, which made its debut last May as Moniker’s first virtual offering, the company created a “lunar outpost disaster scenario” set in 2037. It was adapted from a NASA training exercise for aspiring astronauts. Participants act as mission control for a crew of colleagues whose exploratory trip to the moon’s surface has gone awry.
“We’ve kissed the Blarney stone in Ireland, had whiskey at the top of a mountain in Patagonia, rode on a dogsled in Finland, sailed a yacht off Cannes and hung out with a gorilla doctor in Rwanda,” says Liz Lathan, Austin, Texas-based CEO of Haute Dokimazo, an events company that pivoted to virtual experiences during the pandemic. Her corporate clients Zoomed with travel guides in 28 countries between last May and December.
Vanessa Blackburn, Cleveland-based enterprise retail strategist at Retail Zipline, a communications startup for retail stores, has already done two virtual retreats with her team. Their last off-site, planned before the pandemic, was to take place in Lake Tahoe, and Ms Blackburn hoped to tack on a few extra days to ski. Her company’s two-day virtual retreat in March struck a different tone.
Instead of lavish catered meals, employees got to spend $25 on their corporate card to order coffee and lunch delivery. And the goody bags sent to their homes included a tub of slime, a plastic Slinky toy and a colouring book—not for the workers themselves, but to occupy the young children that many still had at home. “My daughter loved that,” Ms Blackburn says.
What a quarter-million dollars gets you in the western capital.
Alexandre de Betak and his wife are focusing on their most personal project yet.
As global demand for longevity treatments surges, Australia is fast becoming a player in this lucrative industry.
There was a time — not so long ago — when the idea of an indulgent spa day was simply about relaxing massages and therapeutic facials, followed by a five-star lunch and perhaps a dip in a mineral pool. But the health and wellness industry has evolved rapidly, bringing with it an explosion of cutting-edge treatments designed to slow ageing, boost vitality, and extend healthspan.
Cold-water plunge pools, infrared saunas, and float tanks have taken over as the staples of health spas, wellness centres, and high-end gyms. Even real estate developments are tapping into this trend. But now, high-tech longevity treatments — from cryotherapy and IV infusions to genetic testing and advanced cellular therapies — are taking the wellness scene in Australia to unprecedented levels.
A burgeoning market globally, the health and wellness industry is estimated to have been worth more than US$5.6 trillion in 2022. Projections suggest this figure will grow to a staggering $13 trillion by 2031, with Australia steadily catching up to the US and Europe, where longevity treatments are thriving. High-profile figures like Gwyneth Paltrow, Jennifer Aniston, Chris Hemsworth, and even Tom Brady are among the faces championing biohacking and experimental therapies, from stem cell infusions to blood transfusions.
The Rise of Longevity Clinics in Australia
One of the key players in Australia’s emerging longevity scene is Tristan Sternson, founder of Super Young. Sternson’s foray into the world of longevity treatments began as he approached 40 — a milestone that made him reflect on his health. As a former elite athlete, the transition from feeling invincible to feeling vulnerable led him to explore solutions that would help him reclaim vitality.
Initially frustrated by the lack of accessible health data locally, Sternson turned to overseas clinics for tests and treatments that painted a clearer picture of his biological needs. His experience inspired him to create Super Young, a Melbourne-based clinic offering evidence-based therapies tailored to individual needs. Services include cryotherapy, IV infusions, genetic testing, and biological age assessments. Memberships range from $85–$289 per week, while one-off tests start at $899.
Sternson emphasises the importance of personalised treatments. “I want people to start with the evidence side of it so they can really understand their own body and what treatments will work for them,” he says.
The Science of Longevity Medicine
Dr Karen Coates, an integrative medical doctor and a presenter for The Longevity Project at Gwinganna Lifestyle Retreat, echoes Sternson’s emphasis on personalisation. She explains that longevity isn’t just about living longer but about living better — optimising health today while securing vitality for the future.
“One-size-fits-all approaches don’t apply when it comes to longevity,” says Dr Coates. “It’s about understanding your body’s genetic makeup and adopting personalised strategies to support health and longevity.”
At Gwinganna’s four-night Longevity Project retreat, guests can undergo gene testing, biological age assessments, and learn strategies to bridge the gap between chronological and biological age. Packages for the retreat range from $2915 to $5460.
Biohacking for All Budgets
Not all longevity treatments come with hefty price tags. Health coach Camilla Thompson points out that simple lifestyle adjustments — like cold showers to stimulate circulation or adding Celtic sea salt to water for better hydration — can supplement advanced therapies.
While advanced treatments like stem cell and peptide therapies are yet to gain widespread regulatory approval in Australia, Sternson is optimistic about their future. He envisions a time when longevity centres will be as common as gyms, giving clients the tools to monitor and manage their health with precision.
“What I’d love to see is health insurance companies get on board,” Sternson adds. “If they can give discounts for safe driving based on car data, why not for healthy habits based on glucose monitoring or other health indicators?”
As Australia continues to embrace longevity medicine, it’s clear the industry is poised to reshape not just health and wellness but how Australians approach ageing itself.