Not too long ago coffee shops were simple: get caffeine for the sleep-deprived. You walked into a cafe, ordered an espresso beverage, read the newspaper, and left the cafe more awake than you were when you came. These days?
Coffee shops have evolved into free coworking spaces or glorified hostels eager and ready to cater to digital nomads looking for a place to work or study.
Wifi lies at the center of all this madness. It effortlessly transforms your typical coffee shop into a war zone for silent anarchists with passive aggressive people claiming their territory.
I didn’t want to live like this, but I had no choice. After my Wifi died during an important deadline due to, “Oh, everyone just has scheduled maintenance,” I started packing up my laptop and charger and braved the walk to the nearest cafe like.. Well, like everyone else that was doing the exact same thing.
Your server has moved on to the internet. I walked into a cafe that proudly displayed “Free WiFi” on their wall, signaling to me that they care more about attracting new customers than retaining existing ones. The sign represents modern society perfectly.
Before I even entered, there was a mountain of MacBook Pros with their headphones awkwardly hanging out with their pockets judging me as I walked in. All of these people were cementing their own territories near to what resembled caves by the sea, maximizing table space and spending the least amount of money possible. When trying to find a new coffee shop with Wifi, trust me, you know you’ve found a good one when it has all the things most people would consider completely opposite.
An coffee shop that provides outlets, walls to fake some sort of personal bubble of safety, and tables that can fit your own form of coffee shop fascism while limiting mobility as much as possible. But above all, the establishment needs to be within range of the Wifi. Welcome to that magical sweet spot where you can classify your table as either a highly sought after plot of fertile land or neighboring country, or to sketchier spectrum of Wifi dependent despair.
Stepping inside, I quickly skimmed the room for any available spots and low-and-behold, there were none. Between every table there were people who clearly had arrived far before me, planted themselves, and were now rooting. They had external monitors, ergonomic keyboards, and an array of half-finished drinks galore.
These people got there when the place opened and will be the last to leave when the place closes. With my options limited, I had no other solution than to sit at an undesirable table and brace myself with an extremely un-comfortable looking chair. This chair was not comfortable under any circumstances, but to those who have no internet at home, this throne was paradise.
With my territory claimed, it was time to work: time to connect to the free public Wifi. Connecting to public Wifi sounds like a relatively simple task if you’re being honest. Going through the motions to try and connect to any form of Wifi is as easy as talking to that family member you haven’t spoken to in years or building IKEA furniture.
First, you had to find the Wifi name as you scroll through unfamiliar networks one by one:
“CoffeeShopWifi” (sounds legit but suspiciously open)
“CoffeeShopWifi_5G.” (probably faster but absurdly short-range)
“CoffeeShopWifi_Guest” (logging in sounds welcoming, but most of the time it has exponential security questions)
“TheColdDayYouWereBorn” (some hipster barista surely named this one)
And my personal favorite “FBI Surveillance Van.” I’m sure this’ definitely not an FBI surveillance van but who knows these days. I selected what I believed to be the best option, and “CoffeeShopWifi” was my goto. Suddenly, I was prompted to put in a password.
Welcome to the worst part of your day: being forced to approach the service desk during rush hour. “The password?” Said my local barista friend who clearly heard my answer just so he could mock me. “It’s on your receipt.”
Oh great, along with reciting an never-ending string of characters you don’t know.
“CofF33B3@nz!2023” I whispered to myself before cautiously typing it in. You can never be too careful when one letter can send you to scramble your career. After what felt like forever, I was greeted with those two words we’ve all come to love to hate: “Connected, no internet.” Please let me be connected.
My laptop fools me every time, giving me that false-orange indicator that I’m ready to surf the web, yet I cannot access ANYTHING. It’s like receiving an invitation to a party you were aware you’re not being invited to. My laptop sees the Wifi, yes.
But actually having useable Wifi is another story. The worst part about it? My laptop is pretending to connect to the Wifi.
This started my next procedure to the coffee shop-Wifi dance: ’The Fake Search for the Router.’ Whenever you happen to scan the cafe in hopes to your router pops into view, and by slightly squinting your eyes you may even spot the opportunity to unplug the router and perform an emergency restart. Mine wasn’t here, but at least I was entertained by the simple act of pretending I had somewhere better to be. Walking passed, was a fellow caffeine addict, who let me assume was showing off his collection of Apple products to no one in particular.
“Try “CoffeeShopWifi_5G.” This corner has better reception with the 5g network.”
Naturally, I tried his suggestion and BOOM he was right. The pages loaded by the snap of your fingers compared to how it’s usually a…
but it was quick enough for me to work. I sat in, delighted that I was finally able to jumpstart my work day.
I opened up my email reader and watched as emails crawled in at the pace of a snowy hill. It was then I noticed the new social norms around cafesWifi. It was an odd pairing, but they worked together harmoniously:
We were all strangers, but we were all dependent on one another but also utterly frustrated with one another.
When the Wifi went out for even just a few seconds, everyone craned their necks in unison. Meerkat’s have nothing on usWifi consumers when danger approaches. Heads turned to each other, shared a glance of empathy before we all dove back into our phones.
No words needed to be spoken, we all felt it. We were all annoyed. We didn’t know why it was happening.
Someone was to blame. But yes, we were family. Depending on what country you dwell in, the characters you encounter daily range from smartphones, tablets, and laptop computers that all have the ability to access some sort of Wifi from anywhere.
The Bandwidth Bandit: equipped with multiple devices all streaming their own content on their own devices willingly disobeying the invisible wrath building inside everyone around them. The Outlet Elitist who believe they own the one, lonely power outlet near them. They convince themselves it was put there specifically for them, and all their cords lay around them like electronic umbrellas.
The Never Settle down-er: always looking for a quick beat they hop from table to table trying to gain that incremental boost in Wifi probably leaving a long line of deathCaps behind him like a dog to mark his territory. The Wifi Squatter buys the lowest key beverage on the menu like water, taps on his phone nonstop walks into every corner of a table for four squeezing himself and anyone around him for the next four hours without once moving from his seat, hyper-focusing into his laptop like he’s about to compete in the ring. The FaceTime Fran who believes nothing is better than having a private conversation in the busiest area possible by blasting her phone on speaker so everyone around her can enjoy conversing with her too.
Whether it be about work or her grandmother’s upcoming eye surgery you’ll never know. Lastly, my favorite, The Wifi Warrior: The unlucky soul that has a deadline or significant task at the exact moment that the Wifi goes down and figures you can magically connect to other networks because there is nowhere else to go. You know these people when they begin tapping their phone, switching wifi on and off like they’re trying to hack into NorthCore’s army of routers.
I was categorized into this group whether I wanted to be or not. After proudly building up a trench at my table for 45 minutes of watching bytes slowly crawl across my screen, my Wifi dropped. Instead of a puff of smoke, all I heard was a collective curse from fellow diners.
Everyone’s reaction was instantaneous and rippled throughout the cafe. Denial: Everyone automatically checks their Wifi, as if it will magically reappear as if it never left. Anger: The grumbling of disgruntled customers, angry faces, and deep exhales of everyone involved aimed at the cafe staff who, much like their consumers, are powerless to help.
Negotiation: Trying to see if other networks (DM me if you know one that’s not from a neighboring business or random house) will connect is the most pathetic you could imagine. You don’t care about “right” and “wrong” you need information. Depression: The slumped bodies and blank stares of Wifi-less people looking around like they’re currently planning their move to the worst neighborhood in town; including using their data.
Acceptance: Switching from laptops to couches as a pathetic excuse to give up on the ups and downs of Wifi hopping where you migrate not by seasons, but by bars. Personally, I was helpless. If I left my spot, I would only lose more time and jeopardize my chance of making the deadline.
So like any pathetic adult would do, I ordered another coffee. Walking back up to the counter, I smiled at the barista:
“Hey! Do you know when you’ll have the Wifi back up?” I asked as genuinely as I could without sounding like a desperate man.
I heard the rumors of the Wifi horror stories this cafe had to offer, and I even listened in when I could. It was better than whatever the barista was saying for the past minute or so. Trust me when I say, she had character with those piercings and “welcome” attitude.
After some careful attention, I heard…
Someone actually resets this “router” all the time. *insert eye-roll* Psh yeah sure. My made up story of how the internet got hacked was entertaining.
Actually never mind that. Answering my own circulating questions:
Who fixes this “router”? Where?
How often? Didn’t think these were questions you thought about but stick with me. The ‘they always’ quote was music to my ears after everything I had heard the barista spout at me during my last thirty minutes there.
If I had to reboot my Wifi problem. All I had to do now was head back to my table and hope to high heavens this “someone” comes to save me. Easier said than actually watching the last bits of your monthly data disappear.
Good luck telling your parents why you used up all your data, ‘Teenagers these days have unlimited texting.’ works for me. Lost in my phone again, screen glued to my fingertips I came to one realization. Coffee breaks don’t have breaks anymore.
Sure, it felt good watching my to-do list shrink down but that’s not what I came here for. Not anymore. We replaced social gatherings with Lattes and a steady WiFi connection.
What’s few inches of comfortable seating or warm coffee if you have to resort to buying an over-priced muffin that’ll burn your tongue just to access the Internet? I am just as guilty as the next guy. Sitting at a packed cafe on my icy cup of coffee I didn’t even want, just so I could have internet that went from luxurious, to necessary in under 10 years.
Wifi eventually returned, and you could hear a thousand sighs of relief shimmy through the cafe.
Everyone went back to working, silencing the digital chaos that would take place once again. My annoyance and discomfort still lingered, but I knew tomorrow this could happen to me again.
If I could go through those steps all over again, I would. We live in a world where Wifi is our air supply. We’ll endure base torture just to get a bar of signal- connecting and battling each other, sitting in the same corner around the world fighting for the same thing.
We sit here, imprisoned by walls with others, going through the WiFi struggle.
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