Hot Josh and the Coffee Shop Wi-Fi Occupation
I arrived at the coffee shop at 9:14 a.m.
Laptop.
Phone.
Charger.
Headphones.
A notebook.
Three pens.
I was prepared for a productive day.
The coffee shop had everything I needed.
Comfortable chairs.
Free Wi-Fi.
Electrical outlets.
Air conditioning.
Restrooms.
And, most importantly, somebody else paying the electric bill.
I approached the counter.
“Large iced coffee, please.”
“That’ll be $5.75.”
I paid.
She handed me my drink.
“Anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
Transaction complete.
Or so she thought.
I selected a table near the window.
Four chairs.
One electrical outlet.
Excellent natural lighting.
This wasn’t a coffee shop.
This was an executive suite.
I opened my laptop.
Connected to the Wi-Fi.
Plugged in my charger.
Placed my phone beside me.
Arranged my pens.
Opened my notebook.
And began working.
At 10:30, everything was going beautifully.
At 11:15, I had answered seventeen emails.
At noon, I had completed two projects.
At 12:47, I had consumed the last of my coffee.
This was unfortunate.
Not because I wanted more coffee.
Because my unofficial office lease had apparently been paid in full.
I considered purchasing another drink.
Then I looked at the empty cup.
Five dollars and seventy-five cents.
Surely that included more than three hours of occupancy.
I continued working.
At 1:20, an employee approached.
“Hi! Just checking. Are you waiting for anyone?”
I looked at the three empty chairs surrounding me.
“No.”
“Oh, okay. We’re getting pretty busy, and I was wondering if you could move to one of the smaller tables.”
I looked around.
The coffee shop was indeed busy.
People were standing near the counter.
A couple was waiting for a table.
Someone was balancing a laptop on their knees.
Unfortunate.
But I had arrived first.
“I’ve already established my workspace.”
She smiled.
“I understand, but this table seats four.”
“Correct.”
“And there’s only one of you.”
“Also correct.”
“So…”
I gestured toward my laptop.
“I’m currently conducting business.”
She glanced at the screen.
“Okay?”
“Would you ask a company to relocate its headquarters in the middle of the workday?”
She laughed.
“Sir, it’s a coffee shop.”
“That’s what the landlord calls it.”
She stared at me.
I continued.
“I’ve been here since 9:14.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve invested considerable time in this location.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve established a reliable internet connection.”
“Right.”
“And I’ve already memorized the restroom location.”
She was trying not to laugh.
I could tell.
“Could you please just move to the smaller table?”
I considered the request.
Then I looked toward the smaller table.
Two chairs.
No electrical outlet.
Absolutely unacceptable.
“Does it have power?”
“No, unfortunately.”
“Then we’re discussing a downgrade.”
She laughed.
“It’s just a table.”
“Without electricity.”
“You can charge your laptop before moving.”
I looked at my battery indicator.
Ninety-eight percent.
An inconvenient fact.
I closed the laptop.
Gathered my belongings.
And relocated.
Not because I had lost the argument.
Because I was demonstrating flexibility.
Leadership requires sacrifice.
At 2:15, the Wi-Fi disconnected.
I stared at the screen.
SESSION EXPIRED. PLEASE RECONNECT.
Interesting.
I clicked reconnect.
A message appeared.
Complimentary Wi-Fi sessions are limited to four hours. Please see an associate for assistance.
Four hours.
Apparently the internet had a curfew.
I approached the counter.
“Excuse me. My Wi-Fi has been terminated.”
The employee looked up.
“Have you been here a while?”
“Define a while.”
“More than four hours?”
“Potentially.”
She smiled.
“We limit complimentary Wi-Fi to four hours.”
“Why?”
“To make sure everyone gets a chance to use it.”
I looked around.
There were approximately fourteen people using laptops.
I hadn’t noticed any internet shortages.
“Is the Wi-Fi a finite natural resource?”
She laughed.
“No.”
“Then why are we rationing it?”
“It’s just our policy.”
There it was.
The most dangerous phrase in customer service.
It’s our policy.
I took a deep breath.
“How do I extend my session?”
“You can make another purchase, and we’ll give you a new access code.”
Aha.
Now we were getting somewhere.
“So the Wi-Fi isn’t actually limited to four hours.”
“Well…”
“It’s limited to four hours per purchase.”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
I looked at the menu.
Another coffee would cost $5.75.
A cookie was $2.49.
I pointed at the cookie.
“Does that qualify?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.”
I purchased it.
She handed me the cookie and a new Wi-Fi code.
I looked at the receipt.
Then at the cookie.
Then back at her.
“So I’ve just renewed my office lease for $2.49?”
She laughed.
“If that’s how you want to look at it.”
“It is.”
I returned to my table.
Connected to the internet.
And resumed working.
At 4:30, I had accomplished nearly everything on my list.
I packed my laptop.
Gathered my belongings.
Threw away my cup.
And walked toward the exit.
Then I noticed something.
A man had just entered the coffee shop.
He carried a laptop bag.
A charger.
A notebook.
And the unmistakable expression of someone searching for free office space.
He looked toward my table.
Then at the electrical outlet beside the larger table.
Then at the menu.
I recognized the calculation happening behind his eyes.
He approached the counter.
“Just a small coffee.”
I stopped.
Small coffee.
Amateur.
He had no idea what he was getting into.
I considered warning him about the four-hour Wi-Fi limit.
The seating restrictions.
The complicated relationship between cookies and commercial real estate.
But some people need to learn through experience.
I walked outside.
The sun was shining.
My work was finished.
And my total office expenses for the day were $8.24.
Coffee.
Cookie.
Electricity.
Internet.
Air conditioning.
Restrooms.
Not bad.
Not bad at all.
Then I remembered something.
I had left my favorite pen on the table.
I went back inside.
The man with the laptop was already sitting there.
Using my electrical outlet.
Occupying my former workspace.
I approached.
“Excuse me.”
He looked up.
“Yes?”
“I believe I left a pen here.”
He handed it to me.
“Here you go.”
I took it.
Then looked around the table.
“Nice office.”
He smiled.
“Thanks.”
I leaned closer.
“Just so you know, the lease renews every four hours.”
He looked confused.
I nodded toward the counter.
“Cookies are cheaper than coffee.”
Then I left.
The lesson?
Coffee shops believe they’re selling beverages.
Hot Josh believes they’re providing flexible commercial real estate with complimentary utilities.
And for $8.24, he considers himself a founding tenant.
Although next time, he’s bringing a printer.
