If we cannot be loved, we can console ourselves that at least we belong. It gives us a sense of place and helps others approach us, because that sense of place conveys a lot about a person.

Of course, if you sense their place is Collingwood Football Club, it is more of a case of avoiding than approaching.

When I arrived fresh off the plane from Britain in 1995 as a skills migrant, I was embracing Australia for the very first time.

This was not an ex-backer sentimental for the cockroaches of Coogee. Rather, someone who had a poster of the Opera House on his bedroom wall from an early age. Whose older brother was actually paid by the Australian government to settle here.

What struck me on arrival was how welcomed I was. How open this country was to opportunity. Unlike Central London, where you had to be a duke or above to own property, in Sydney all you needed to do was claim the insurance after a suspicious factory fire. Something anyone could do, irrespective of their station in society.

I took up citizenship proudly at the first opportunity. I can't recall if I was given a gum tree at the ceremony, but if I could have afforded a water view back then, I would no doubt have planted that tree to block my neighbour's view, following true-blue Aussie etiquette.

Like all newcomers, I overreached in my attempts to assimilate. It is not a good idea to wear an Akubra to the cricket at the SCG unless you want to learn a lot of vernacular in the bus queue on the way home. I even started barracking for Australia in the cricket (I am not stupid, it was a novel experience backing a winning team).

But now I feel in a mild way as though I have lost my place slightly, after 20 years. The government's new citizenship laws tell me I am not and never will be equal to other Australian citizens. I am still a pom, and should I incite crimes against the state, it will be back to land of the batting collapse. Is this some kind of payback for deporting convicts?

In future, dear reader, when I incite you to rage against the vagaries of bureaucracy at work or point out that goal-setting is overrated and limited in its efficacy, could I be accused of running down my government and banished to a country that invents sports it cannot play? Would I be forced to use a UK passport and thereby increase my chances ten-fold of being held hostage by real terrorists?

The need to belong is a powerful force, no less so at work than in life generally. If you want positive engagement at work, making people feel welcome is a good start.

Jim Bright is professor of career education and development at Australian Catholic University and owns Bright and Associates. Email opinion@jimbright.com. Follow @DrJimBright.