為什么咖啡館變成了另一個(gè)辦公室？

Kyle Glanville should have been thrilled. All 70 of the outdoor seats at Go Get Em Tiger were taken, only three days after he and his partner opened the cafe in the Los Feliz neighborhood of Los Angeles.

凱爾·格蘭維爾本該非常欣喜若狂。他與合伙人一起在洛杉磯洛斯費(fèi)利茲一帶開(kāi)的咖啡館Go Get Em Tiger開(kāi)業(yè)的第三天，70個(gè)露天座位全都被預(yù)定了。

He was not. “Everybody was at a laptop wearing headphones,” Glanville said. He strode inside, unplugged the device that provided free Wi-Fi and tossed it into a bin in his office.

但他沒(méi)有。“每個(gè)人都戴著耳機(jī)坐在電腦前，”格蘭維爾說(shuō)。他大步走了進(jìn)去，拔掉了提供免費(fèi)Wi-Fi的設(shè)備電源，把它扔進(jìn)了自己辦公室的垃圾桶里。

He wanted a courtyard where people talked to one another, not a silent office for remote workers. And while anyone with a cellphone hot spot could connect without his help, he had made himself clear. On a recent weekday morning, almost a year and a half later, the courtyard was still full of people, but this time they were talking to one another. Only one was at his laptop.

他想要的是一個(gè)人們能在里面相互交談的庭院，而不是給遠(yuǎn)程工作者們的一間無(wú)聲的辦公室。雖然任何一個(gè)有手機(jī)熱點(diǎn)的人都不用他幫忙就能連接上網(wǎng)，他還是擺明了自己的立場(chǎng)。最近，在將近一年半以后的一個(gè)工作日早晨，院子里依然坐滿了人，但這一次，他們?cè)谙嗷ソ徽?。只有一個(gè)人在用電腦。

Remote workers have staked out coffee shops for years, but small-business owners say their ranks are rising. In 2016, 43 percent of U.S. employees spent some time working remotely, according to a Gallup survey; the number who telecommute at least half the time has grown by 115 percent since 2005, said a report last year from FlexJobs and Global Workplace Analytics.

遠(yuǎn)程工作者們已經(jīng)占領(lǐng)咖啡店多年，但小本經(jīng)營(yíng)的商家表示他們的級(jí)別在提高。根據(jù)蓋洛普(Gallup)的一個(gè)調(diào)查顯示，2016年，美國(guó)43%的員工有部分時(shí)間在遠(yuǎn)程工作;FlexJobs和全球職場(chǎng)分析公司(Global Workplace Analytics)去年的一則報(bào)道稱，自2005年以來(lái)，至少過(guò)半的時(shí)間都在遠(yuǎn)程工作的人數(shù)已經(jīng)有了115%的增長(zhǎng)。

Add in the self-employed, and the crowd gets even bigger. And while some still embrace the home-and-pajama model, a large contingent hits the corner cafe.

加上自雇人士，群體就更大了。盡管有些人還是喜歡居家睡衣的辦公模式，但一支大部隊(duì)已經(jīng)向街角的咖啡館襲來(lái)。

Starbucks may not feel the pinch, with its multibillion-dollar revenues and legions of grab-and-go customers, but for owners of smaller businesses, the math is grim.

星巴克(Starbucks)可能沒(méi)有痛感，它有著數(shù)十億美元收入和大批買(mǎi)了就走的顧客，但對(duì)于小商家來(lái)說(shuō)，這筆賬是很頭疼的。

“Three hours for $5 worth of coffee is not a model that works,” said David Wynn, co-owner of Triniti, a tiny cafe that opened two months ago east of Glanville’s place, on Sunset Boulevard in the Echo Park neighborhood.

“買(mǎi)杯5美元的咖啡坐3個(gè)小時(shí)，這個(gè)模式是行不通的，”小咖啡店Triniti的合伙人戴維·威恩(David Wynn)說(shuō)，他的店兩個(gè)月前開(kāi)在回聲公園一帶的日落大道上開(kāi)張，在格蘭維爾的店?yáng)|邊。

Owners face a choice: Get tough and encourage workers to move, or embrace them and hope that a combination of guilt and loyalty will inspire them to spend more or leave sooner. 經(jīng)營(yíng)者們面臨著一個(gè)選擇：強(qiáng)硬一點(diǎn)，敦促工作者們離開(kāi)，或是接受他們，指望著愧疚感和忠誠(chéng)度的結(jié)合能讓他們想花更多的錢(qián)或更早離開(kāi)。

It’s hard to know which is the right answer. “There’s no social order here to tell us how to behave,” said Glanville, as if he were contemplating a newly formed nation, which in a way he is. He took a no-tolerance stance on Wi-Fi because a single ground rule seemed more hospitable than a litany of restrictions.

很難說(shuō)哪個(gè)才是正確答案。“沒(méi)有什么社會(huì)秩序來(lái)告訴我們?cè)撛趺醋觯?rdquo;格蘭維爾說(shuō)，仿佛他是在設(shè)想一個(gè)剛剛成立的國(guó)家，在某種程度上的確如此。他選擇了對(duì)Wi-Fi不加容忍的立場(chǎng)，因?yàn)閱我坏幕驹瓌t看似比一連串的限制規(guī)矩更令人舒服。

Rich Nieto thought he was being tough enough when he limited workers to a dedicated laptop room at his 25-seat Sweetleaf cafe in Long Island City in the Queens borough of New York City. But when all eight laptop seats were taken one afternoon, a customer simply retired to another room, tore away the wallpaper to expose a purposely covered electrical outlet, and plugged in.

里奇·涅托(Rich Nieto)以為，在自己的紐約皇后區(qū)長(zhǎng)島市Sweetleaf咖啡館內(nèi)，把25個(gè)座席的一部分專門(mén)劃給工作人士，就已足夠強(qiáng)硬。但一天下午，當(dāng)8個(gè)電腦專座都被占滿了的時(shí)候，一位顧客直接回到了另一個(gè)房間，撕下了墻紙，露出一個(gè)有意蓋住的電源插座，然后接上了插頭。

“You can’t win that battle,” said Nieto, who had already learned his lesson the hard way. “The first time I saw someone with a laptop, I said, ‘Sorry, no laptops.’ Right after that, I got a one-star review on Yelp.”

“你贏不了的，”涅托說(shuō)，他已經(jīng)嘗到了這么做的苦頭。“第一次看到有人用電腦時(shí)，我就說(shuō)，‘對(duì)不起，不能用電腦’。緊接著我就在Yelp被評(píng)了一星。”

Even companies committed to accommodating remote workers look for ways to improve the relationship.

即使是一心為遠(yuǎn)程工作者提供方便的公司也在想辦法改進(jìn)關(guān)系。

At Triniti, Wynn offers free Wi-Fi, but after two hours a customer must have “a face-to-face interaction” with an employee, he says, to get a new password. He relies on that interaction and the aromas from the kitchen to transform coffee drinkers into lunch customers, and has been gratified as the first wave of workers has started to order midday meals.

Triniti咖啡館的老板威恩提供免費(fèi)WiFi，但他表示，每隔兩個(gè)小時(shí)，顧客必須與店員進(jìn)行“一次面對(duì)面的交流”，以獲得新密碼。他依賴于這種互動(dòng)以及廚房的香味，將來(lái)喝咖啡的顧客轉(zhuǎn)變?yōu)槲绮皖櫩?，?dāng)?shù)谝慌鷣?lái)喝咖啡的顧客開(kāi)始點(diǎn)午餐時(shí)，他深感欣慰。

Jason Neroni, the chef and a partner in the Rose Cafe in the Venice neighborhood of Los Angeles, said he was happy to run what he called “a commissary” for the nearby offices of Google, BuzzFeed and Snapchat — this part of the neighborhood is known as Silicon Beach — and for self-employed people.

洛杉磯威尼斯社區(qū)玫瑰咖啡館(Rose Cafe)的廚師兼合伙人杰森·內(nèi)羅尼(Jason Neroni)表示，他很高興為附近的谷歌、BuzzFeed和Snapchat等公司的員工以及自雇人士提供了一個(gè)他所說(shuō)的“員工餐廳”。這一帶有硅灘(Silicon Beach)之稱。

He sees them as the nascent regulars of tomorrow. And with 300 seats, he can afford to invest 85 to 90 cafe and patio seats in the future and still maintain a no-laptop policy in the main dining room.

他將他們視為未來(lái)的新?？?。他的咖啡館有300個(gè)座位，因此可以拿出85到90個(gè)咖啡廳和露臺(tái)座位供來(lái)這里辦公的顧客使用，同時(shí)依然在主餐廳實(shí)行禁用筆記本電腦的政策。

He employs subtle means to influence the behavior of working customers. Logging in for two hours of free Wi-Fi requires the user’s email address, which goes onto the Rose’s mailing list. And while people can log right back in, the expiration reminds them that it might be time to order another round.

他采用微妙的手段來(lái)影響辦公顧客的行為。顧客必須提供郵箱地址才能免費(fèi)登錄使用兩個(gè)小時(shí)的Wi-Fi，郵箱地址將被納入玫瑰咖啡館的郵件列表。雖然到時(shí)斷開(kāi)后，顧客可以立即重新登錄，但這個(gè)操作提醒他們，也許該再點(diǎn)些什么了。

Servers circulate to ask if they can get something else for a customer tied to his electronic devices. And Wi-Fi service ends at 5:30 p.m., to signal that the workday has ended and dinner service is about to begin.

服務(wù)員會(huì)來(lái)回走動(dòng)詢問(wèn)那些使用電子設(shè)備的顧客是否還需要點(diǎn)些什么。Wi-Fi服務(wù)在下午5點(diǎn)半停止，提醒顧客工作時(shí)間結(jié)束了，晚餐服務(wù)要開(kāi)始了。

Neroni tried extending the Wi-Fi until 7 one night, “as an experiment,” he said. “People looked up and figured we forgot to turn it off. And it was ‘Oh, boy,’ and a line of people carrying their open laptops into the dining room so they could keep working.” He reminded the disappointed throng of the dining-room no-laptop policy and resumed the 5:30 cutoff.

內(nèi)羅尼說(shuō)，有一天傍晚，他想“做個(gè)試驗(yàn)”，試著將Wi-Fi服務(wù)延長(zhǎng)至晚上7點(diǎn)。“人們抬起頭看了看，猜想是我們忘了關(guān)Wi-Fi。場(chǎng)面很無(wú)奈，一群人拿著打開(kāi)的筆記本電腦走進(jìn)餐廳繼續(xù)工作。”他向失望的人群重申了餐廳禁用電腦的規(guī)定，從此繼續(xù)5點(diǎn)半關(guān)Wi-Fi的做法。

Like most cafes, the Rose doesn’t provide electrical outlets; a dwindling battery should be a sign that it’s time to go.

和大多數(shù)咖啡館一樣，玫瑰不提供電源插座。電量越來(lái)越少表示該走了。

Some remote workers have gotten the message, and try to do their part. Jocelyn Johnson, who founded VideoInk, a digital trade publication about online video, relies on remote work sites including the Rose. She has defined a code of conduct to prove herself a good citizen.

一些遠(yuǎn)程辦公人員明白這個(gè)意思，并盡力做好自己的本分。創(chuàng)辦了有關(guān)在線視頻的數(shù)字行業(yè)刊物VideoInk的喬斯林·約翰遜(Jocelyn Johnson)依賴包括玫瑰在內(nèi)的遠(yuǎn)程辦公場(chǎng)所。她制定了一套行為準(zhǔn)則，以此證明自己是一個(gè)好市民。

Her self-imposed rules include working in one cafe or restaurant no more than three mornings a week, for no more than three hours at a stretch. She always orders a coffee and pastry, and frequently a lunch to go. Then she packs up and heads to another spot on her preferred list.

她給自己制定的規(guī)則包括一周不在同一家咖啡館或餐廳工作超過(guò)三個(gè)上午，每次不超過(guò)三個(gè)小時(shí)。她總是點(diǎn)一份咖啡和糕點(diǎn)，經(jīng)常還會(huì)再吃個(gè)午飯。然后，她會(huì)收拾東西，前往優(yōu)先名單上的另一個(gè)地方。

The only casualty of the plan is her social life, which she had hoped might include the Rose as well: She tried a weekend brunch there, only to realize that it felt too much like the office.

這個(gè)計(jì)劃唯一的受害者是她的社交生活。她原本希望自己的社交生活也包括玫瑰：一個(gè)周末她試著在那里吃了一頓早午餐，不料卻發(fā)現(xiàn)感覺(jué)太像辦公室了。

“I couldn’t enjoy myself,” she said. “I kept feeling that I ought to be working.”

“我沒(méi)法好好享受，”她說(shuō)。“總覺(jué)得自己應(yīng)該在工作。”