Learning From the Co-working Crisis

It’s here to stay. But its future doesn’t look like WeWork.

A Spaces co-working location in Amsterdam.

We Work is imploding, and that’s a pity. WeWork cofounder Adam Neumann has become the year’s leading avatar of techbro entitlement, so there’s plenty of schadenfreude to be had watching him get the boot as the company scraps its IPO. But for a lot of us, it’s tinged with a sense of loss.

A large fraction of the Group of Humans has worked at one (or more) of WeWork’s hundreds of co-working locations around the world. We’ve sipped their free lattes and beer, lounged in their artfully designed spaces, and tried to get some work done. It was a deeply flawed company, but it offered something freelancers and entrepreneurs needed for a reasonable price. It meant we could show up in an unfamiliar city, walk into a comfortable, centrally located space, and know there’d be fast WiFi and a place to sit. It was a step above unreliable coffee shops, and for the swelling ranks of mobile workers, entrepreneurs, and global creative pros, it was nice to know it was there.

But it’s not just this specific company that’s got issues—the whole underlying model’s got problems. Amid the noise about WeWork’s devaluation there’ve also been articles criticizing the open plan format it embraced: a layout that remains popular despite research showing it increases distraction, reduces productivity, and is probably sexist. So while the foosball tables and cucumber water are nice, at the end of the day it’s kind of hard to get actual work done there. And it’s not just WeWork. A survey of fellow independents who’ve tried Tribes, Spaces, Soho House, Fora, and others finds that they’re all better for lounging than actual work.

For the Group of Humans, this is more than just an interesting observation. Dispersed working is our default, so a well-designed temporary workspace is a genuine productivity enhancer. If there’s a group more inclined to be co-working connoisseurs, we’ve yet to meet them.

So we posted a few questions up on GoH Slack about people’s co-working observations, and got some pretty illuminating responses.

Here’s Josh Silverman’s take, for example:

When I joined WeWork, I found it to be daunting and even challenging — to arrive early enough to get a good seat, to make sure you could set up your space as you wanted on the daily. Although I liked being able to access WeWork space in NY or Boston or wherever I was traveling, it was rare to see the same people, and harder to broker any relationships that would keep you coming back.

Dave Malouf has had similar struggles:

I know when I had worked at WeWorks I jumped for the restaurant booths that were available in this particular space…In general the standard open floor plan I’ve seen of late is mostly based on how many people can we fit into a space, and not what is a conducive working environment.

So while we love knowing there are offices for us all over the world, there’s also an unmet need for focus, not just hanging out. When you’re debugging code, analyzing user research, laying out wireframes, or tweaking pixels, you need a pretty prosaic space. Like a desk in a room with a closing door, or (god forbid) a cubicle. A lot’s been written about the importance of deep work, and how much productivity we lose from constant distraction, but that’s exactly what open-plan co-working encourages.

Better hurry if you want one.

So for many of us, using a co-working space is a never-ending task of shutting out the people around you. If you’re lucky, you snag a diner-style booth, or one of the precious semi-enclosed desks. And if not, there are headphones.

This suggests a kind of pervasive self-deception, by co-working companies as well as their members. If you look at the websites and marketing literature for WeWork and its competitors, you see a lot of hip, multicultural young people smiling and chatting in casual environments that look sort of like bars, cafes, or living rooms. They’re the Cool Workers, who make work look like not-working, and who wouldn’t want to be someone like that?

The WeWork at 1601 Vine in LA (wework.com)

But in the real world, work usually looks like work. Two people chatting one-on-one over a table. Or more often, one person alone on a laptop.

Network without leaving your chair!

So it’s a little ironic that the other big promise of co-working spaces is their social component. Come work in our space, they suggest, and you’ll be surrounded by smart, interesting people doing smart, interesting things. You’ll talk to each other, and make friends, and maybe some work connections too.

Jenny Theolin’s response sums up many people’s real world experience though:

…I see the ones who appreciate co-working spaces are the ones who find business and collaborations in them. Embassy House [in Stockholm, where I worked for six months] was predominantly tech startups, and everyone had lockable rooms due to expensive equipment, so it wasn’t particularly social anyway.

Victoria Kirk-Owal points out that for a lot of us, this just isn’t how we make connections, or friends:

I wanted a place to focus and get work done. Somewhere away from the distractions of home and family life. But the big co-working companies sell these added benefits of networking and events and socialising that didn’t matter to me. I’m not one to hang out at the bar after work, and the networking events at these places weren’t nearly as effective as meetups or other gatherings focused on a specific topic of interest.

It’s true that open environments can encourage casual discussions that lead to insight and connection, but this usually happens in groups who already know each other, or have something obvious in common. This is one of the main arguments in favor of the open office, especially in creative industries, where random interactions are a genuine source of value.

But in a space where everyone’s a stranger — or worse, where you’re solo and everyone else is in twos or threes — there’s little incentive to start chatting with someone who might not be there tomorrow. Even at a professional conference, you can assume some overlap of interests with other attendees, and if you run out of topics, you can always discuss the keynote.

This is probably why sponsored events at co-working spaces tend to be so generic. When a dozen industries are sitting in your bullpen, a Cuban-themed cocktail party is a safer bet than a presentation about blockchain.

So WhatWorks?

We can’t just throw our hands up and call co-working a lost cause. The gig economy is growing, especially among Millennials, and co-working fills a crucial gap between a coffee shop and a proper office. But we need to let go of the high-design rumpus room vibe.

Going back to the Humans we polled, there are a few basic requirements that a co-working space probably needs to meet:

• Fast WiFi and lots of power outlets
• Natural light (something your home office might lack)
• Enough background noise for buzz, but not distraction
• Semi-private spaces for 1–2 people
• A few larger spaces for teams, that can be used on the spur of the moment
• Printing and mail services
• Community norms about calls, loud conversations, food, etc.

That last one is especially tough though, as Human Trip O’Dell points out:

I think a lot more thought needs to go into the flow of space as well as social norms/expectations. Some people go in and act like complete ass hats. Shouting into their phone, eating at desks, etc. — their activity was only disruptive because of the part of the space they were in.

Co-working spaces really aren’t that new as a phenomenon, they sort of work like the old school private clubs most cities had (some still do). The difference was there were behavioral expectations that were expressly implied and enforced.

Most co-working spaces address this with cleverly worded little signs designating Quiet Areas, or asking people to please be courteous. But it only takes one neighbor shouting into a headset about this week’s engagement numbers to ruin it for everyone. And there’s always at least one.

The poll also raised a few ideas about co-working social elements that would be genuinely useful:

• More structured socializing, that helps connect people with shared interests and/or values, or have something to teach or learn. In other words, fewer cocktail parties, and more presentations and discussions focused on specific industries, technologies, or skills.
• Fixed seat locations, to help form a small, knowable group that’s consistent from day to day. The typical co-working space simply has too many people to get familiar with. Knowing you’ll see the same dozen faces every time you go in makes it possible to actually start conversing with one of them.
• Some kind of defining purpose to the space, so that members can have a sense that they’re part of a community (beyond “be creative”).

Of course, this all might be too big a request from what’s essentially a short-term real estate company. Perhaps the best co-working space is the one that abandons socializing altogether, and just crams as many solo workboxes into a building as possible. They might take notes from GoH Partner Simon Waterfall, who’s set up his home office for minimal distraction above all else:

I stand up in an old cupboard space. 3 feet by 6 feet. I don’t need physical space to make creative space. No distractions of windows, people (can’t fit) or air.