I grew up under the roof of Bar Collado, the place my family ran for 84 years. I studied psychology and have worked for over a decade analyzing trends and consumer habits to tell brands how to connect with the hearts of their consumers. Tired of feeding the capitalist demon, one day I decided to go back to my roots, to what I hated as a teenager and now adore: serving food and drink to the people in the neighborhood. Since my time on the other side of the counter, I’ve seen the emergence of a new breed of user—not necessarily customer, as we’ll see: people who turn a bar stool into their office.
When I first heard the term “digital nomad,” I pictured a man in his mid-thirties with a trimmed beard sitting in front of a screen. Wearing a loincloth and warming himself by the psychedelic flames of a Netflix fireplace, he contemplated his next stop.
I later learned that Estonia was one of the first countries to offer a visa specifically for digital nomads. Now anyone who considers themselves a citizen of the world can enjoy a smoked sprat sandwich and enjoy the view of Tallinn’s city square.
But not everything is pink in this new liquid universe, where life moves at a pace that will flush your impurities down the drain. No: only a privileged few have the luck and ability to respond to emails from inflatable flamingos in the waters of the Bahamas.
The vast majority of this self-employed, precarious working class has to go out every day to find a desk and turn it into their office. They are people who cannot or do not want to pay for a coworking space. Although it’s hard to believe, there are some independent professionals who don’t like working in a glass booth opposite a group of people in tights practicing yoga.
DVD 1127 Barcelona, 10/06/2022 Report on digital nomads at 22@. Aude Omerin, 27, photographed in the Itnig coworking space in the Poblenou district. Photo: Gianluca BattistaGianluca Battista
As an observer from both sides of the bar, I’ve noticed various profiles of anonymous heroes emerging from their caves in search of office space day after day. Armed with their MacBook Air and a reusable water bottle in their Ölend backpack, they set out to experience a world they define as “glocal” by wrecking their spines while sitting on a barstool for hours. These are the six types of nomads who use cafes and bars as offices.
SandwichChezians
There’s a breed of freelancers from Barcelona who only visit SandwiChez, a small chain that prides itself on the quality of its sandwiches and salads. You will arrive at the venue while the floor is still being mopped and staff preparing for service. Your goal is to get the best table furthest from the counter to avoid the murmur of the parade of customers going through the cash register. You can sit there for nine hours after drinking just one skinny latte. Some are rumored to bring their Tupperware from home and eat their lunch semi-secretly. The only thing they consume is electricity. The most disturbing thing is that the brand equity of this chain seems to be exactly this: Come and work in our store.
screenwriters
They show up later. Any bar will do as long as there is wifi and beer. They drink like they have a son in prison while watching series on a tablet and writing in a soft ENRI notebook. From time to time they let out a laugh that involuntarily shoots at the staff, but they don’t care. There is no one else there for her.
diuretics
You are looking for cafes with a wide range of teas and herbal drinks. They keep asking for hot water to get the last bit of flavor out of the herbs. They smile more than they should and speak too softly. When they are having a rough day, they decide to make peace with Sugar, their main enemy, and eat a piece of cake. You always have a lilac yoga mat and a microfiber towel from Decathlon with you.
predators
These people create the most stress for hospitality staff. You enter the premises alone, talking in loud English over AirPods to someone who, of course, is on the other side of the world. They stand at the bar, stare at the bartender and mention “briefings” and “budgets” as if the clerk’s eyes were teleporting them straight to that Aussie kangaroo on the phone. It never occurs to them that if someone rants about digital marketing in front of them, the person at the bar might be confused.
Everything would be resolved with a small gesture of pointing to the ears and mouthing, “Excuse me, give me a second.” That never happens. Sometimes the call is so long that they enter and exit the bar multiple times without placing an order. When they hang up, don’t apologize. They get around on a Brompton bike and are so happy it never gets stolen.
Can you hear me?
Meetings are their MO. They switch from Zoom to Zoom and cancel meetings because of other meetings. Most of them are boomers or older millennials. They keep complaining about the bad internet connection and don’t hesitate to ask the waiters to turn down the music. Her presence overtakes the sound space and draws the attention of customers at the bar. When meeting customers in person, they greet them at the bar’s door as if they were opening the door of their home. They smooth down their caffeine addiction by ordering a Flat White at 6pm instead of a Double Loaded Latte.
empaths
Any service rep will agree that this is the best profile you can find on the other side of the bar. They start with coffee and croissant, continue with salad and pesto rigatoni, and end with a slice of carrot cake and vanilla rooibos. They don’t want to disrupt locale dynamics, to the point where they share their phone data to avoid free Wi-Fi loading. They are grateful and polite.
One’s poise can be measured by one’s ability to adapt to any place and situation. If you’re a freelancer without an office, remember who you are and where you work.
Sign up for our weekly newsletter to receive more English language news from the EL PAÍS USA Edition