Oh, the cafe. My dream office. I try to get out and find a new one every once in awhile, but I do have my few regulars for sure. But writing in cafes comes with one inherent problem; coffee, and its effect on the bladder.
Oddly enough, texters seem to travel in packs, where they sit together in the most comfortable chairs in the cafe, leaned back, legs crossed, texting everyone they know and ignoring the ones they're with. Avoid them at all costs. Not only are they too buried in their phones to watch your stuff, but they aren't part of the CWA – not unless "wut r u doin?" counts as writing.
The Important Suit
Hey, he's got a laptop! He must be in, right? But wait – that's a suit he's wearing. We wear jeans on our dressiest work day. And he's on the phone, talking about Very Important Things in a loud voice. Don't trust this guy to keep an eye on your stuff – one urgent phone call or breaking-news email and he's out the door.
Oh, how we all want to be the reader. She has time to read. Look at her, all smug in that big armchair, reveling in the fact that she has the luxury and time to lounge around a cafe with her venti caramel macchiato and a shiny new copy of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Yeah, she'd probably watch your stuff, but don't ask. We hate her.
The Overworked Student
Often in groups, these poor saps have the sloppy CWA look for sure, along with stacks of textbooks, dictionaries, papers and strange devices known as "calculators" on either side of their cute little netbooks. In a pinch, these guys and gals will do, but be quick – they're too busy stressing about their term paper to really give a crap about someone snagging your laptop.
The Legit CWAer
Laptop, check. Rumpled, just-out-of-bed clothes, check. Bloodshot eyes, permanent screen-glow skin, fingers flying fast and furious, second free refill of the $1.50 drip? Hell yes, there's your CWA member. A quick question and secret fist bump later, and you're headed for sweet relief knowing your stuff is safe.
Stolen from MusicTravelWrite, because...well, it's my blog, and I don't think you can steal from yourself.