Column: Deadlines and a Couple of Cappuccinos, Please
Coffeeshop chronicles: How WFC works for some, not all
Soon after WFH became the ante-Covid and post-Covid norm, WFC — Working from Cafes — got its moment in the sun. WFC always had its devotees who had been quietly slipping into the nearest café, there to set up their notebooks, laptops and smartphones, order a coffee, and finish working on that script, that presentation, that paper. So much so, the casual walk-in, looking for a plate of cheese sandwiches and a coffee to go with it, invariably never found a vacant spot.
I was so ready to give WFC a shot. And so I snuck off to the nearest coffee place, laptop tucked under arm, high on anticipation of a good cuppa joe, as well as a good hour or three of productive activity.
First, finding a free seat was anything but easy, simply because I didn’t choose a good time; this good time is usually just when the café rolls up its shutters or around a somnolent 3pm in the afternoon. I`d gone in the middle of the day and the place was packed with people, so it took a long time before I got a seat right at the end of the room.
Next came the eat/drink dilemma. Being extra-conscientious about such things, I wondered if I ought to order a number of things, just so I could justify sitting there for hours. In the end, I ordered cappucino, intending to get it topped up as many times as required, which I did thrice.
Then I got down to business. I opened a Word document, typed in a working headline and stared at it. And stared at it some more. Brain freeze. As writers will tell you, a walk around usually helps at moments like these. Except, I didn’t quite see myself walking around the crowded café. So I did the next best thing: I eavesdropped.
Just in front of me at the long wooden counter, a guy in a gorgeous manbun was on his phone and believe me when I tell you, he wasn’t WFC, at least not on this call. He was pleading with his friend to do a trainers swap, exchange his perfect except- for-the fit Converse with some unspecified brand belonging to the friend. Soon I was caught up in his enthusiasm, his desperation, and started to root silently for him. Twenty-seven minutes on, the friend hadn`t budged.
On my left there was a team at work, and they weren’t exactly keeping their voices down. So of course, I was soon caught up in their marketing campaign, quite liking Team Member2`s concept, quite sure TM1`s ideas wouldn’t work, and dying to urge TM3 to cast in his lot with 1 or 2 instead of just sitting there like a dead duck, dammit.
Adjacent to me sat a woman with very long hair trailing over her face and her laptop. Whatever she was looking at seemed quite disturbing. She must have sat and stared at the screen for a full eleven minutes… I know because I counted. Then she gave up, sighed deeply and shut the laptop down.
Which was my cue to do the same. Because I`d been in there for a little over two hours and while my marketing strategies and trainers game had been definitely upped, I`d hadn`t done a jot of writing. And this column wasn`t going to write itself.
My takeaway? It`s simple and succinct: WFC is not for the easily distracted.
This ran in the Sunday Express magazine of 11 June 2023.
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Sheila Kumar • June 11, 2023