My Coffee House Misadventure


Yesterday, my internet went out, so I did what every internet-addicted human would do in a similar situation. I went to work at a local coffee chain, and realized I only had as long as my battery would hold.

Any table near an outlet was taken.

So I found myself wondering who all these people are, who fill the tables in the middle of the day, laptops open. Apparently it is not just work that gets done here, but surprise chatting, meetings, socializing. Huh. Socializing.

I don’t know if the woman who approached the guy at the next table over realizes odds are good that she’s not his type. Then again, in my neighborhood, those odds are always good. Maybe they know each other. Who knows.

But then a woman sat at a table just in front of me, talking on her cell phone as though in a private office. And the compulsive throat clearer behind me. And the music, the unending music.

How do people work in these places?

Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. A woman swooped in to snag my table, and I trudged home, hoping that my own private internet was up and running again.



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