Coffeehouse as Office

Every time I’m in the cof­fee­house, I feel like each table is a home office… For exam­ple, on a giv­en day at the cof­fee­house that I fre­quent, there are at least 5 or 6 lap­top users, typ­ing away into Word. Many have library books stacked up on their table, and note­books handy, each with their own unique scrawl.

Also, some­times I spy the per­son who brings all their mail/correspondence/bills from the past month, and pro­ceeds to open each one while sip­ping their lat­te. This sort of activ­i­ty usu­al­ly results in a huge trash pile. Amusing.

And, then there are those indi­vid­u­als who choose to make net­work­ing calls on their cell phone. I fail to see why such a per­son would­n’t set his/her phone to vibrate. Or, fail­ing that, reduce the vol­ume to an inof­fen­sive deci­bel lev­el… but, they real­ly must take this call.

I’m as guilty as the next guy/girl… Through­out col­lege, I’d spend almost every night at a cof­fee­house, where I stud­ied, wrote term papers, opened bills, wrote cheques, placed cell phone calls and man­u­fac­tured lit­tle piles of trash.

What do I do there now? I read. The papers, week­lies & month­lies, nov­els & non-fic­tion… you name it. So, it real­ly is like a home office for me, too. The rel­a­tive bar­gain of our rent, here in cam­bridge, does­n’t enti­tle me to an office of one’s own. Why not take it to the coffeehouse?

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