Coworking Values Podcast

Episode Summary“It became the first seed of building the Hub Newry... a lived example of building a business with minimal capacities in terms of time, energy, childcare, and that emotional bandwidth that comes with it.” Unreasonable Connection Going Live! London, February 2026.🎟️ Tickets go on sale in January 2026.The entire day is co-created by the coworking community builder on the co-creation waitlist.Picture this: 2009.The world economy has just collapsed.You’ve left the high-pressure banking towers of London for a portacabin in Newry, Northern Ireland.A toddler screaming in the background.Your house isn’t built.Your business is barely breathing.You’re completely isolated in a border town that’s still processing thirty years of conflict.This is where Suzanne Murdock built The Hub Newry—not from a business plan, but from desperate necessity.Thirteen years later, she’s running one of Northern Ireland’s most successful coworking networks.More importantly, she’s become the person operators turn to when they’re drowning.When they’re holding everyone else’s problems, whilst their own systems fall apart.This conversation cuts through the productivity theatre that plagues small business advice.Suzanne doesn’t care about your morning routine or your notion templates.She cares about understanding your actual energy.Your real constraints.Designing structures that work with your life instead of against it.Bernie shares his recent ADHD diagnosis—a revelation that explained why conventional productivity advice never stuck.Suzanne responds with the coaching insight that changes everything: “The problem isn’t the problem.”Your speaking anxiety isn’t about public speaking.Your overwhelm isn’t about time management.Your burnout isn’t about working too hard.For community managers drowning in everyone else’s needs, this episode is a lifeline.For operators trying to scale whilst maintaining their sanity, it’s a roadmap.For anyone who’s ever felt like productivity systems were designed for someone else’s brain, it’s validation.Timeline Highlights[00:05] Bernie announces two critical 2026 dates: Unreasonable Connection in London (end of February) and European Coworking Day (May)[01:57] Suzanne’s origin story: fleeing London banking burnout for Northern Ireland isolation[03:26] The portacabin moment that sparked The Hub Newry: “minimal capacities in terms of time, energy, childcare”[06:16] Two years of explaining coworking to a market that didn’t understand it yet: “We spent a good two years trying to navigate that and script it”[07:39] Bernie on the underrated value of structure: “It’s an underrated resource of having this structure in your work day when you’re running your own thing”[08:39] Why coworking matters for new entrepreneurs: “There are so many unknowns out there. When other people surround you... It’s so helpful and rich.”[13:59] The productivity trap: “It’s just assumed as entrepreneurs or small business owners that you can work 24 hours a day... it doesn’t work like that in real life”[16:45] Bernie’s ADHD revelation: “Saying, Read David Allen, get things done, and it will all work, has never... You can’t just pull something out of a hat.”[17:38] Suzanne on understanding yourself first: “Until you understand those elements, I think it’s very hard to get those structural things right”[20:30] The importance of champions: “It really keeps coming back to really knowing yourself and having champions around you.”[22:40] The coaching revelation: “A lot of people don’t know what their problem is... Listening is a huge part of it.”[27:28] Community manager burnout: “That pot can sometimes feel very empty... we need champions around us... It can be quite a lonely place.”[29:53] Setting boundaries with members: “They need to understand that they have to reach out sometimes as well... it goes two ways”The Accidental OperatorSuzanne never intended to run a coworking space.She intended to survive.After leaving the financial sector in London in 2009, she found herself in a portacabin on a construction site.Trying to run a business whilst raising a toddler.In a town where she knew nobody.The isolation was crushing.Not just emotionally—economically.Without a support network, without casual conversations, without the energy that comes from being around other people working on their own things, productivity was impossible.The Hub Newry started because Suzanne and Patrick needed an office that wasn’t a freezing portacabin.They renovated the first floor of an old pub.Made it too big for just them.Started letting desks to other isolated freelancers.They didn’t know the term “coworking.”They were solving a cash flow problem and a loneliness problem simultaneously.This accidental beginning shapes everything about how The Hub operates today.It wasn’t built on venture capital or growth targets.It was built on the lived experience of what happens when you try to make something meaningful whilst juggling real-life constraints that business advice pretends don’t exist.The Problem Isn’t the ProblemThe most powerful insight in this conversation comes when Bernie admits his struggle with productivity systems.Suzanne responds with coaching wisdom: “A lot of people don’t know what their problem is.”Your speaking anxiety isn’t about speaking skills.It’s about finding a format that gives you energy rather than drains it.Suzanne discovered this when she started her podcast—terrified of public speaking but energised by one-to-one conversation.Your time management problems aren’t about time.They’re about understanding when your energy is highest.Designing your day around that reality instead of fighting it.Your team communication issues aren’t about communication.They’re about setting boundaries that protect your capacity to hold space for everyone else.This is why conventional productivity advice fails.It treats symptoms, not root causes.It assumes everyone’s brain works the same way.Bernie’s ADHD diagnosis explained why Getting Things Done never stuck—his brain doesn’t work that way.Zone of Genius Meets Real LifeSuzanne references Gay Hendricks’ concept of “zone of genius”—the intersection of what energises you and what you’re uniquely good at.But she grounds it in reality.Your zone of genius doesn’t matter if you don’t understand your actual constraints.If you’ve got childcare responsibilities, health challenges, or financial pressures, your ideal day needs to work with those realities.Not despite them.The breakthrough comes when you stop trying to fit your life into productivity systems designed for someone else.Start designing systems that fit your actual life.This means understanding your energy patterns.Your limiting factors.Your support network before you build your schedule.It means asking different questions:Not “How can I be more productive?”But “What structure supports my energy instead of depleting it?”Community Managers in the Lonely MiddleThe conversation exposes a hidden crisis in coworking: community manager burnout.You’re the person everyone turns to.Equipment problems, business advice, emotional support—it all lands on your desk.You’re expected to hold space for everyone whilst somehow also running a viable business.The emotional labour is immense and largely invisible.Suzanne’s insight: “That pot can sometimes feel very empty.”You can’t pour from an empty vessel.Community managers need champions, boundaries, and systems that prevent them from absorbing every problem in the building.The solution isn’t just self-care advice.It’s structural.Straightforward onboarding that explains what members can expect and what’s expected of them.Systems that distribute support across the community instead of funnelling everything through the manager.Recognition that holding space is skilled emotional work, not just part of the job.The Borderland EconomyThe Hub Newry operates in a unique environment—a border town between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland.Complex political history.Economic challenges.But this context reveals something universal about regional coworking.Small towns and border regions often get treated as peripheries—places where talent leaves rather than stays.Coworking can reverse that dynamic.Creating infrastructure that allows people to access global opportunities whilst staying rooted in local communities.Suzanne’s ResMove project takes this further.Using coworking to integrate migrants and refugees into local economies.It’s not just about desk space—it’s about creating pathways to economic participation and community belonging.Structure That SupportsThe title of this episode comes from Suzanne’s philosophy: “Structure that supports, not suffocates.”Most business advice assumes structure means restriction—systems that force you into predetermined patterns.Suzanne argues for the opposite.Structure that amplifies your natural energy.Supports your real constraints.This means starting with self-knowledge.Understanding your energy patterns, your peak times, and your recovery needs.Then build systems that work with those realities rather than against them.It means recognising that sustainable business growth requires sustainable personal systems.You can’t scale something that’s burning you out.It means designing your space, your schedules, and your relationships to support the long-term vision.Instead of just solving today’s crisis.Champions and CommunityPerhaps the most critical insight in this conversation: “We need champions around us.”Running a community space is inherently isolating.You’re responsible for everyone else’s connections, whilst often lacking your own support network.The irony is profound—you’re creating community for others whilst experiencing loneliness yourself.Suzanne’s solution is intentional relationship building.Not networking.Genuine champions.People who notice when you’re struggling and actively support your success.This includes other operators, mentors, peers, and even members who understand their rol

“I’m not going to hide my tears right now. So often, people sit behind keyboards and write these comments, and they don’t see the impact of their words. And today I want you to see the impact.” - Tash Koster-Thomas.Unreasonable Connection Going Live! London, February 2026.🎟️ Tickets go on sale in January 2026.The entire day is co-created by the coworking community builder on the co-creation waitlist. Tash Koster-Thomas was delivering a paid webinar on LGBTQ+ allyship when the anonymous racist comments started scrolling across the screen.Two hundred people watched as she broke down live on camera, choosing vulnerability over politeness, truth over comfort.This wasn’t just a difficult moment. It was a perfect distillation of what Trans Awareness Week actually means in 2025 Britain—and why every coworking space owner needs to understand what’s happening right now.Bernie sits down with Tash, equity and inclusion consultant and co-founder of Breaking the Distance, to unpack the brutal reality of the Supreme Court ruling that just made trans people legally vulnerable in British workplaces and public spaces.You’ll hear how the law now allows employers to ask about someone’s “gender status.”How the state’s own equality watchdog has redefined trans people’s right to exist as merely a “preference.”And crucially, what coworking operators can do to create a genuine sanctuary when the government won’t.This isn’t academic theory. This is survival economics in real time.If you’ve ever wondered how to signal safety without performativity, or how to support marginalised communities when the law actively works against them, this conversation will show you exactly where to start.The personal cost of this work is real. The political stakes couldn’t be higher.And the practical steps forward are more straightforward than you might think.Timeline Highlights[00:04] Bernie’s announcement: Co-creating the London Coworking Assembly for February 2026—”you will design the curriculum or the agenda together”[02:11] Tash’s mission statement: “Being a good human, actually. That’s what I’d like to be known for.”[03:21] Trans Awareness Week scope: “It is global, but probably more prominent in the UK”[04:16] The Supreme Court ruling explained: “Sex refers to being assigned female at birth, and are biological women. And therefore, if you’re a trans woman, you are not a biological woman.”[06:45] The legal contradiction: “Just because you’re protected in this instance here, it still means you can be highly discriminated against.”[07:48] The impact on coworking spaces: “We want to be a trans inclusive space and we welcome all, but now we feel like this ruling is a contradiction of that.”[09:02] The intersex reality: “1.7% of our global population are intersex and fit into neither one of those binary categories”[10:24] Fear as the weapon: “What happens is it creates fear more than anything”[11:53] Clear signals matter: “If I see a space that says we are inclusive and it includes all women, trans and non-binary folk. That to me signals safe space.”[13:57] The exclusion principle: “A safe space can’t always be a space that everybody comes to, because then by default, it stops being a safe space.”[17:06] The moment of truth: “I’m not going to hide my tears right now. I want you to see the impact of these words.”[19:24] Bernie’s visceral reaction: “I couldn’t believe you held it together.”[21:04] The spotlight problem: “Trans community is facing the most amount of hate that it’s been facing all year because now it’s a spotlight”[23:30] Allyship as consistency: “Allyship isn’t a thing that you can do as a performative thing. It has to be a consistent effort that you put in day in, day out.”[24:32] Practical bathroom policy: “Put something up that says, We recognise that ideally we would be using gender-neutral toilets... you have the freedom to use whatever bathroom feels right for you.”The Supreme Court Ruling Nobody Talks AboutIn April 2025, the UK Supreme Court ruled that “sex” in the 2010 Equality Act means biological sex only—not gender identity.Most people missed this. Most coworking operators definitely missed this.But Tash explains the brutal implications with surgical precision: trans people can now be legally questioned about their “gender status” at work and excluded from toilets matching their lived identity.The state’s own equality watchdog calls this loss of dignity a mere “preference for things to be a certain way.”This isn’t legal theory. It’s economic precarity by design. When you can’t safely use a workplace toilet, you can’t safely earn a living.For coworking spaces, this creates an urgent choice: follow the government’s new permission to discriminate, or become a sanctuary that provides the rights the state just stripped away.Why Safe Spaces Can’t Include EveryoneTash cuts through the liberal fantasy that inclusion means “everyone welcome always.”“A safe space can’t always be a space that everybody comes to, because then by default, it stops being a safe space for the core demographic that you’re trying to defend and support.”She draws the parallel with racism: if you’re creating a space for the global majority people to process discrimination, you can’t also welcome people who deny racism exists. Their presence destroys the safety you’re trying to create.The same logic applies to gender-critical voices in trans-inclusive spaces. Not because those voices are evil, but because safety requires boundaries.For coworking operators worried about appearing exclusive, Tash offers clarity: know who you’re serving. If you try to serve everyone, you serve no one safely.The Viral Comments That Exposed EverythingThe story that stays with you: Tash delivering a virtual LGBTQ+ session to 200 people when anonymous participants started posting racist comments in the chat.The organisers, thinking they were being helpful, put the comments on screen for everyone to see.Tash broke down live on camera. But instead of hiding her tears, she looked directly into the lens: “So often people sit behind keyboards and write these comments, and they don’t see the impact of their words. And today I want you to see the impact.”That moment of vulnerability became the most powerful teaching tool imaginable. The CEO immediately stepped in. The entire organisation had to confront what they’d been harbouring. Allies reached out privately.But here’s what haunts her: this only mattered because it was public. How many trans people face this abuse daily without witnesses? Without support? Without organisational learning?The Economics of Absorbing HateTash reveals the hidden cost structure of diversity work: companies pay her to process their toxicity.She gets a fee for the webinar. But the real price—the emotional devastation, the tears, the psychological impact—gets absorbed by her personally. The company externalises its cultural problems onto the consultant it hires to fix them.This is the diversity industry’s dirty secret. The very people most equipped to diagnose the problem are also the most vulnerable to its damage.For coworking operators, this raises uncomfortable questions about how you handle incidents. Do you expect marginalised members to educate aggressive members? Do you put the burden of explaining discrimination on those experiencing it?Or do you do the work yourself?Practical Allyship That Actually MattersTash’s advice cuts through performative gestures to focus on sustainable support:Learn the legal context. If you don’t understand the Supreme Court ruling and its implications, you can’t protect your members from it.Be explicit in communications. “Women’s events include trans and non-binary folk” tells people exactly where you stand.Work with infrastructure constraints. If you can’t change your toilets, put up a sign: “We recognise that ideally we would be using gender-neutral toilets. But, given the infrastructure, you are free to use whichever bathroom feels right for you. And everybody within this space honours that.”Check in consistently. Not just during awareness weeks. Trans Awareness Week is actually when the hate peaks because transphobes see it as permission to attack. Real allyship happens in February, not November.Set and enforce norms. Decide what behaviour you tolerate, then hold that line. Safety isn’t a feeling; it’s a set of enforced boundaries.When Coworking Becomes Civic InfrastructureBernie and Tash explore what happens when the state abandons its duty to protect citizens.If the government won’t guarantee trans people’s right to exist safely in public spaces, then private spaces become political. A coworking space that provides gender-neutral toilets isn’t just being nice—it’s providing civic infrastructure the state refuses to build.This elevates the Coworking Citizenship Playbook from community guide to survival manual. When democracy fails, citizen-led spaces fill the gap.The question isn’t whether this is political. It’s whether you’ll use your space to expand dignity or contract it.The Cost of TokenismBernie raises the visual everyone recognises: London buildings with faded rainbow stickers from when DEI was trendy.Tash’s response is measured but cutting. Tokenistic gestures don’t just fail to help—they actively harm by creating a false sense of security.Better to be honestly unwelcoming than pretend to be safe when you’re not.The alternative isn’t perfect inclusion from day one. It’s committing to the work consistently, learning publicly from mistakes, and prioritising actual safety over comfortable symbolism.🔗 Links & ResourcesTash’s Work* Tash’s website KT Consulting: Equity, diversity and inclusion consulting* Instagram: @tashtee.uk and @breakingthedistance* LinkedIn: Tash Koster-Thomas* We Create Space: Community-led learning platform and consultancy* Breaking the Distance: LGBTQ+ visibility platform with wife MartheProjects & Community* European Coworking Day* London Coworking Assembly* European Coworking Assembly* The annual Co

Episode Summary“Do you know who your coworking space’s biggest competitor is? It’s the Home Office, working from home.” - Lucy McInallyUnreasonable Connection Going Live! London, February 2026.🎟️ Tickets go on sale in January 2026.The entire day is co-created by the coworking community builder on the co-creation waitlist.Lucy McInally, founder of The Inclusive Coworker and coworking industry writer, drops a truth bomb that stops Bernie mid-conversation. After two years in a beloved coworking community that closed down, she’s been working from home ever since—despite being one of the industry’s most thoughtful voices on inclusive community building.This isn’t a story about laziness or preference. It’s about the hidden friction that kills coworking adoption: the 50-minute commute that used to be 25 minutes, the Spanish conversation anxiety that paralyses Bernie from entering perfectly good spaces in Vigo, the seasonal darkness that makes walking across Blackheath feel unsafe for Lucy.Bernie admits his own contradictions—knowing 15 coworking spaces in his new Spanish city but unable to pluck up the courage to walk into any of them. Lucy shares the practical magic of Clockwise Edinburgh: free yoga in the morning after her trial day, whiskey tasting on Friday evenings, and invitations that converted her from a curious visitor to a committed member.The conversation unearths something deeper than marketing tactics: the micro-barriers that prevent connection, the difference between discount-led positioning and value-based invitation, and why showing lifestyle trumps showing desks every time.This is for anyone who’s wondered why perfectly good coworking spaces struggle to fill their rooms, and why the biggest threat to your community might not be competition—it’s comfort.Timeline Highlights[01:15] Lucy’s revelation: “The biggest rival with your coworking space isn’t another coworking space. It’s your home.”[03:13] Lucy’s confession: “I was part of a coworking space for two years... it closed down... I haven’t joined another coworking community.”[05:00] Bernie’s Spanish anxiety: “The realistic blocker is, I’m so apprehensive about speaking Spanish to anyone that I don’t know.”[05:50] Lucy’s commute reality: “What was 25 25-minute commute initially for me, then turned into 50 minutes... I don’t have the capacity to commute in and back again.”[08:46] Bernie’s Vigo challenge: “It’s more of a membership place than a drop-in place... It’s hard to buy a day pass.”[09:38] Lucy on trial days: “A lot of spaces here offer that free trial day... it is a really good way to test out if a space is right or not”[11:54] The Clockwise magic moment: “Tomorrow we’re doing a yoga class in the morning... and we’re doing a whiskey tasting on Friday evening”[12:58] Lucy’s safety barrier: “To get there, the most direct way is to walk across the heath... I don’t feel like that’s the safest way to commute.”[13:13] Bernie’s coffee ultimatum: “If I go to a place that looks amazing and they’ve got this mediocre coffee machine... I don’t want to go there.”[14:38] Bernie’s pricing frustration: “Their main flyer was 50% off... devaluing their product... then in the small print it read ‘for your first month’ I was ripped off before I even took the offer.”[15:30] Lucy on value positioning: “You don’t need to say 50% off, because if you give me all the benefits... then I’ll pay full price”[16:44] Lifestyle over space: “They don’t just show, here’s the space... They show, this is where we go for drinks... some of the local restaurants”The Hidden Geography of Working From HomeLucy’s confession hits like cold water: the coworking advocate who can’t bring herself to join another space. This isn’t hypocrisy—it’s human truth. The space she loved closed, her commute doubled, and suddenly the sofa became the easier choice.Bernie’s Spanish paralysis adds another layer. He knows coworking spaces, runs coworking events, literally wrote about coworking citizenship—but anxiety about speaking Spanish keeps him from walking into perfectly good spaces opposite his apartment. The expertise doesn’t translate to courage.These aren’t edge cases. They’re the hidden geography of remote work: the 20 micro-decisions that tip someone towards isolation over community. The slightly-too-long journey. The slightly-too-awkward interaction. The slightly-too-much effort.Working from home isn’t just about convenience—it’s about avoiding the emotional labour of belonging somewhere new.Why Location Anxiety Is a Real Community KillerLucy’s Blackheath revelation is faced by women everywhere: the most direct route to a promising coworking space requires walking across heathland in seasonal darkness. For women especially, safety calculations happen automatically, unconsciously filtering out options that men might never consider.This geography of anxiety shapes community access in ways that marketing rarely addresses. It’s not about the space itself—it’s about the journey to get there, the time of day, the lighting, the route home.Bernie’s Vigo situation adds another dimension: language anxiety creating invisible barriers. The professional confidence that works in London evaporates when faced with Spanish conversations. Suddenly, every interaction feels like an exam.The spaces that win understand that accessibility isn’t just about ramps and doorways—it’s about emotional safety, practical safety, and the hundred tiny comfort calculations that happen before someone leaves their house.The Discount Trap That Devalues EverythingBernie’s visceral reaction to “50% off your first month” captures something essential about positioning. The space he loves—genuinely loves—cheapened itself with Black Friday language that made him feel manipulated before he’d even walked through the door.Lucy’s counter-insight is brilliant: if you communicate the real value of community, connection, and belonging, people will pay full price. The discount suggests you don’t believe in your own worth.This isn’t about being expensive for expensive’s sake. It’s about leading with what matters: the yoga class that happens the morning after your trial day, the whiskey tasting on Friday evening, the invitation to become part of something larger than workspace rental.The spaces that thrive understand they’re not selling desk time—they’re selling the antidote to isolation. That has value. Price it accordingly.When Cool Becomes ExclusionBernie’s story about feeling excluded by “two incredibly good-looking guys with MacBook Pros drinking cappuccinos” reveals how aspiration can become alienation. Those photos weren’t meant to exclude—they were meant to attract. But they sent a clear message about who belonged.Lucy pushes back with nuance: there’s a difference between having a clear niche (tech bros for tech bros) and accidentally signalling exclusion through lazy representation. The all-male panel phenomenon isn’t usually intentional—it’s what happens when you book from your immediate network without thinking about whose voices are missing.The most successful coworking marketing shows real people in real moments, not aspirational lifestyle shots that feel like permission structures. Projects in Brighton nail this: they don’t just show the space, but also highlight where members go for drinks, local restaurants, and the lifestyle that comes with joining this community.It’s lifestyle marketing done right: inclusive, specific, and rooted in an actual place.The Ecosystem AdvantageLucy’s insight about Projects showing “this is where we go for drinks in Brighton” reveals a sophisticated understanding of community value. Coworking spaces aren’t islands—they’re part of local ecosystems. The best ones make those connections explicit.Bernie’s Indy Hall observation reinforces this: their content makes you want to move to Philadelphia because it showcases the entire cultural ecosystem in which their members participate. It’s not workspace marketing—it’s place marketing.This ecosystem approach serves dual purposes: it shows potential members what they’re joining, and it demonstrates the space’s commitment to local economic development. Members aren’t just renting desks—they’re becoming part of a network that supports local businesses and cultural life.The spaces that understand this become genuine civic infrastructure rather than just commercial property.The Trial Day That Actually WorksLucy’s Clockwise Edinburgh experience offers a masterclass in conversion through genuine invitation. The trial day wasn’t just about testing the workspace—it was about experiencing the community.The sequence matters: trial day leads to tour, which leads to an invitation to a yoga class, which leads to whiskey tasting, which leads to membership. Each step built social connections and demonstrated ongoing value beyond desk rental.This isn’t about elaborate programming that smaller spaces can’t afford. It’s about understanding that people join communities, not workspaces. The yoga and whiskey weren’t expensive add-ons—they were evidence of what membership would feel like.The spaces Bernie visits in Vigo that don’t offer day passes miss this entirely. Without trial experiences, potential members can’t imagine belonging. The commitment threshold becomes impossibly high.Why Vibe Matters More Than AmenitiesLucy’s search for “vibe”—that abstract but essential quality of space—highlights what actually drives community choice. You can’t fake vibe with better coffee machines or fancier furniture. Vibe emerges from genuine human connection and shared values.Bernie’s coffee machine obsession seems shallow until you realise it’s about standards and attention to detail. If they can’t nail something as basic as coffee, what does that say about their approach to community care?The spaces that work understand that every detail—from coffee quality to billing processes to the way tours are conducted—either builds or erodes trust. Vibe isn’t an accident—it’s the accumulated result of

Episode Summary “We are in a time of a meta-crisis... when everything around us is falling apart, what’s going to remain is each other. I believe that in those times, community is immunity.” - Xavier Damman.Unreasonable Connection Going Live! London, February 2026. 🎟️ Tickets go on sale in January 2026. The entire day is co-created by the coworking community builder on the co-creation/waitlist.Xavier Damman spent a decade in Silicon Valley building companies, making exits, and playing the venture capital game to perfection.But when he returned to Brussels six years ago, he brought something unexpected back with him: the conviction that the economic system that made him rich was leading us all to extinction.In this episode, Bernie sits down with the co-founder of Storify and Open Collective—and now the founder of Commons Hub Brussels—to explore how a former tech entrepreneur is experimenting with dual currencies, peer-led governance, and radical transparency to rebuild community economics from the ground up.You’ll hear how COVID killed traditional five-day-a-week coworking and why themed community days are filling the gap.How Elinor Ostrom’s Nobel Prize-winning research on commons management became the blueprint for a new kind of space.And why Xavier believes the future of coworking isn’t about design and amenities—it’s about becoming laboratories for economic systems that value care as much as performance.This conversation cuts through the startup rhetoric to examine what it actually takes to build alternative economic infrastructure.Not because it’s trendy. Because survival might depend on it.If you’ve ever wondered whether there’s a way out of the extractive economy without abandoning community and connection entirely, this episode charts one possible path forward.Timeline Highlights[02:26] Xavier’s origin story: from Belgian engineer to Silicon Valley success to Brussels commons builder[04:56] The meta-crisis awakening: when everything around us is falling apart, community becomes immunity[06:26] Elinor Ostrom’s Nobel Prize research and why commons management beats privatisation[09:02] “Coworking is dead”: how COVID broke the five-day office model and what’s replacing it[10:30] Crypto Wednesdays, AI Mondays, and the rise of themed coworking days[11:45] Why magic happens at the intersection of different communities[13:50] Trust-building through doing: the priceless value of shared projects[16:18] Coworking as the new churches: rebuilding social fabric in a GDP-obsessed world[17:07] How we destroyed relationships to turn them into transactions[21:36] The Commons Hub token: introducing a dual-currency system that values care alongside cash[22:59] How some members pay more euros, others contribute more time—and why both matter[24:39] Why the current economic system is clearly leading us to extinction[28:53] Money is just a proxy: reducing dependency through community exchangeThematic BreakdownThe Silicon Valley Return: When Success Becomes a CrisisXavier’s journey from Belgian engineer to Silicon Valley exit and back to Brussels as a commons builder reveals a profound truth about our economic moment. Success within the system—the acquisition, the financial freedom, the validation—became the resource that allowed him to step outside and ask harder questions. His story isn’t anti-technology or anti-entrepreneurship. It’s about using the tools of capitalism to fund experiments in post-capitalism. The irony is deliberate: he needed to win the game to reveal how broken the game actually is.Community as Immunity in the Meta-CrisisWhen Xavier talks about the “meta-crisis” and “polycrisis,” he’s not being dramatic. Climate collapse, institutional failure, social fragmentation—these aren’t separate problems but symptoms of the exact systemic breakdown. His phrase “community is immunity” captures something essential about survival in unstable times. When the formal systems fail, what remains is the quality of relationships we’ve built with the people around us. This isn’t romantic community-building. It’s a practical resilience strategy.The Death and Resurrection of CoworkingThe five-day-a-week coworking model died with COVID, but something more interesting is emerging in its place. Xavier’s themed days—Crypto Wednesdays, AI Mondays, Regen Sundays—represent a fundamental shift from spaces trying to be everything to everyone to spaces that curate specific communities around shared interests. This isn’t just about efficiency. It’s about creating the conditions for what Xavier calls “serendipity”—the unexpected connections that happen when the right people show up at the right time.The Economics of Care vs. The Monoculture of PerformanceThe Commons Hub’s dual-currency system—euros plus community tokens earned through care work—strikes at the heart of everything wrong with our economic system. We live in what Xavier calls a “monoculture of a single currency” that only values performance and GDP contribution. Love, care, beauty, maintenance—the work that actually makes community possible—gets no recognition. The dual currency doesn’t solve capitalism, but it creates a small space where different values can breathe.Coworking as Economic LaboratoryXavier views coworking spaces as the ideal testing ground for new economic models, as they’re small enough to experiment with yet substantial enough to matter. When he says “coworking spaces could be this amazing laboratory where those experiments can be run,” he’s talking about something more radical than better coffee or faster WiFi. He’s referring to spaces where people can explore various ways of relating to money, work, and one another. Where the logic of extraction gets suspended, even temporarily.From Monoculture to PermacultureThe shift from “monoculture to permaculture” isn’t just an agricultural metaphor—it’s an economic strategy. Just as monoculture farming depletes soil, economic monoculture depletes communities. Permaculture farming recognises that ecosystems need diversity to thrive; human communities need multiple currencies and ways of contributing. Xavier’s vision isn’t about rejecting money entirely but reducing dependency on it by creating more ways for people to participate meaningfully in community life.The Physical Commons in Digital TimesDespite his tech background, Xavier insists on physical space as essential infrastructure for community building. Churches provided this network of neighbourhood gathering places; coworking spaces can fill that role in secular, pluralistic ways. But only if they embrace their civic responsibility rather than just chasing commercial real estate returns. The Commons Hub, located across from Brussels Central Station, isn’t coincidental—it’s positioned as infrastructure for the kinds of connections that make democracy possible.✅ Coworking Trends Survey 2025The Coworking Values Podcast is keen to support Carsten Foertsch and Deskmag - The Coworking Magazine Coworking Trends Survey - the longest-running global study tracking the evolution of coworking and flex spaces.If you’re a coworking community builder or operator, take 5–10 minutes to share how your space is doing this year. Your input helps shape the most accurate industry snapshot out there.➡️ Take the survey nowHelp make sure voices from all types of spaces - big and small, rural and urban - are heard.🔗 Links & ResourcesXavier Damman’s Work* Commons Hub Brussels* Open Collective* “Let’s turn 10,000 neighbourhoods into communities!” - Every Friday* DAO Brussels* Connect with Xavier’s on LinkedIn Projects & Community* European Coworking Day* London Coworking Assembly* European Coworking Assembly* The annual Coworking Trends Survey is live - it’s more important than ever.* Unreasonable Connection Going Live! London, February 2026.Bernie’s Projects* RSVP for ACTionism, the documentary at Urban MBA 19 November | 3 PM- 7 PM* LinkedIn Coworking Group: 8,000+ member community* Coworking Values Podcast LinkedIn: Showcase page* Workspace Design Show: February trade show and conference in London* Unreasonable Connection Events: Monthly online gatherings for coworking operators* Bernie’s LinkedIn: Connect directlyOne More ThingCoworking brings communities together, helping people find and share their voices.Each episode of the Coworking Values Podcast explores Accessibility, Community, Openness, Collaboration, and Sustainability—values that shape the spaces where we gather, work, and grow.If this resonates with you, rate, follow, and share the podcast. Your support helps others discover how coworking enriches lives, builds careers, and strengthens communities.Community is the key 🔑 This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit coworkingvaluespodcast.substack.com

Episode Summary“It all started at 5 AM. We had explosions. My husband works for the Red Cross — they evacuate people. We’re always awake, tracking the news and knowing what's happened. I don’t know if somebody was injured tonight, but I’ll find out this evening when he comes home.”This is how Helga Moreno’s morning began. Not with a standing desk and a flat white. With explosions. With her husband running towards danger, she walks the dog and opens her laptop to write about member retention strategies for coworking spaces.Helga is a senior marketer at Spacebring, an English Literature graduate and the author of fairy tales about coworking — including one about cyberspace that feels like it was written in a different lifetime. She lives in Mykolaiv, southern Ukraine, near Odessa and the Black Sea. The sunny south, as she calls it. Additionally, a frontline region where drinking water hasn’t run from taps in years, electricity cuts out for hours at a time, and heating remains uncertain as winter approaches.In February 2022, when Russia invaded Ukraine, Helga and her family made a choice that would define everything that followed: stay together, no matter what. Her husband and son couldn’t leave Ukraine. So she didn’t either. They’ve lived through displacement to Lviv, the return to Mykolaiv, the daily air raid alerts, the 11 PM blackouts, and the permanent uncertainty that rewires how you think about the future.But here’s the contradiction that makes this conversation so vital: Helga’s job is to write polished content about optimising coworking spaces — automated invoices, maximised revenue per square foot, reducing churn. Meanwhile, the coworking spaces in her country proved their value by doing the exact opposite. In February 2022, Ukrainian coworking spaces didn’t optimise. They opened their doors for free. They became bomb shelters, refugee centres, humanitarian aid hubs. They abandoned the profit motive entirely because survival demanded it.Helga holds both of those truths at once. She co-founded the Ukrainian Coworking Association, which partnered with CBRE to document the state of the industry under war conditions. She travels to conferences — two-day bus journeys, flights via Moldova — to experience “normal life,” where the lights stay on after 11 pm. And she comes home to a city where choosing a coworking space means asking: Does it have a generator? Does it have a bomb shelter?This conversation isn’t about marketing tactics or SaaS metrics. It’s about what coworking actually means when everything transactional falls away. It’s about a storyteller who wrote children’s fantasies about cyberspace, now writing testimony about digital resistance and economic survival. And it’s about a community that proved — when one of their own needed £1,500 per night for private hospital care to save her son’s life — that community isn’t networking. It’s tangible, life-saving support.Helga is speaking at two major events: an online conversation with Jeannine van der Linden and Marko Orel on 27th November about displaced Ukrainians and reconstruction, and Coworking Europe in Berlin. Her conference bio ends with an invitation: “While her focus is on marketing, Helga lives in the south of Ukraine; if you want to know how things are right now, she invites you to come and ask.”Bernie took her up on it.Timeline Highlights* [01:36] “It’s Mykolaiv, near Odessa, near the Black Sea” — Helga introduces herself from the sunny south of Ukraine, a frontline region* [04:45] “It all started at 5 AM. We had explosions. My husband works for the Red Cross — they evacuate people.”* [06:24] “We still don’t have drinking water in my city. We have electricity schedules — 2 hours on, 3 hours off”* [08:02] “We decided we must stay together. My husband and my son couldn’t leave Ukraine. So if I go, I leave my men here in the warzone.”* [09:13] “I keep my laptop charged all the time. If I’m out of charge or internet, I go to a café. We have one coworking space that still works.”* [10:38] “Power generator and bomb shelter” — the criteria for choosing a coworking space in Ukraine* [11:57] “To go to Berlin, I go to Moldova and take a plane. Otherwise, it’s a bus for two nights and two days.”* [15:56] “We don’t deal with uncertainty. We have to accept it. We can’t plan for years. We’re not buying an apartment because it can be ruined anytime.”* [18:55] “Every night we have air raid alerts. People in Kyiv sleep in the subway with their kids. It’s really cold already.”* [20:31] “My part is to analyse the coworking industry during wartime — from completely zero when everything stopped, to thriving spaces now”* [21:57] “My son was drafted. He lived in a tent in the snow without heating. He got really sick — 40-degree fever for three weeks.”* [23:55] “The hospital was €1,400–€500 per night. The coworking community did fundraising. We could afford it. My son fully recovered.”* [27:25] Bernie’s reflection: “How do you juggle going to a conference, blogging about member retention, and rescuing your son like that?”When the Profit Motive Vanished OvernightIn February 2022, Ukrainian coworking spaces had a choice: optimise revenue or save lives.They chose lives. Instantly. Without committee meetings or PR consultants.The Future Hub in Lviv sheltered families fleeing from Kharkiv and Kyiv. Startup Depot hosted over 150 refugees, primarily women and children. B-Working in Kyiv turned its concrete basement into a public bomb shelter during missile attacks. Helga mentions one coworking space in Mykolaiv that’s still open — chosen not for its coffee quality or meeting room availability, but for its generator and bomb shelter.This is the contradiction Helga lives inside. Her day job is writing about automated invoices, maximised square footage, and reducing churn. But the coworking spaces in her country proved their value by doing the exact opposite. They gave everything away for free. They ceased to be businesses and became civic infrastructure.“We decided we must stay together,” Helga says, describing the family decision in February 2022. Her husband and son couldn’t leave Ukraine. So she didn’t either. It’s a microcosm of what happened across the sector. The transactional gave way to the existential. Revenue per square foot became irrelevant. What mattered was shelter, warmth, electricity, and community.Helga worked with the Ukrainian Coworking Association. Their first significant act wasn’t policy work or internal strategy. It was documentation. They partnered with CBRE to gather data on the state of the market under war conditions. It was an act of testimony. Proof of existence. We are still here. This is real.The global coworking industry debates tactics for reducing churn and optimising meeting room pricing. Ukraine demonstrated the fundamental value proposition of shared space: the capacity to transform into life-saving infrastructure in a single day.The Philologist Who Wrote About CyberspaceBefore the war, Helga wrote a children’s fantasy book called Journey into the Net. It was about the hopeful possibilities of cyberspace, the magic of digital connection, and the adventure of navigating the online world.Now she writes testimony. Documentation. Strategies for survival. Her company, Spacebring, isn’t just selling software anymore — it’s on the front lines of digital resistance, helping spaces operate under conditions most Western operators can’t imagine.Helga has a master’s degree in English language and literature. She’s a philologist — a lover and student of language, literature, and narrative architecture. She’s authored over five books, curates The Flex Factor podcast, and contributes to Coworker, Coworking Resources, and Coworking Insights. But when people introduce her, they lead with the job title: senior marketer at Spacebring.Bernie pushes past that. “I’m so glad you’re a writer and not a marketer,” he says. “I think people think I’m a marketer, but really I’m in my café, smoking and stressing over a manuscript.”Helga laughs. She’s working on a sequel to her first coworking fairy tale. She’s keeping it secret until Coworking Europe, where she’ll present printed copies. It’s a small act of defiance — a refusal to let the war define her entirely. She’s still the storyteller. Still, the philologist believes in the power of narrative, imagination, and language to build worlds.But the stories have changed. From fantasy about cyberspace to the harsh necessity of cyber resilience. From children’s adventures to testimony about what it takes to keep a tech sector alive under attack. It’s the ultimate pivot. And it reveals something essential about Helga: she understands both the magic and the machinery. The human and the transactional. The story and the spreadsheet.Choosing Coworking Spaces by Generator and Bomb Shelter“Power generator and bomb shelter.”That’s Helga’s answer when Bernie asks how she chooses where to work.In London, Bernie used to stand at Old Street roundabout and debate which coworking space had the best coffee. In Mykolaiv, Helga checks which one has electricity. The parallel universes are almost absurd, except they’re both real.Helga’s workday is a masterclass in adaptability. She keeps her laptop charged at all times. If the power cuts out or the internet fails, she goes to a café with a generator. There’s one coworking space left in Mykolaiv that still operates. It’s open because it has the infrastructure to function under siege: backup power, internet via Starlink, and a bomb shelter.“We still don’t have drinking water in my city,” Helga says. “We bring water to our houses. We have electricity schedules — 2 hours on, 3 hours off. We don’t have heating yet, but I hope we will this winter.”The casualness of that statement is devastating. I hope we have heating. It’s November. Snow is already falling in parts of Ukraine. And whether Helga’s family can stay warm this winter is uncertain.But she keeps working. “I’m really grateful I have a

“We have people literally knocking on the door... ‘Do you want to buy 100 Google reviews?’ We made the call very early doors that that was not in line with our values, and we would never do that.”Stephen Phillips spent most of his adult life in London’s casual dining world. Now he’s co-founded Neighbours & Nomads—a coworking space, bar, and community hub in El Nido, Palawan, Philippines.The transition wasn’t gentle. Double the budget. Twice the time. Learning to navigate Philippine construction, permits, and bureaucracy from scratch. Opening in the downseason with a fragile local power grid and the constant threat of infrastructure failure.But here’s what makes this conversation worth your time: Stephen brought something from those London restaurant years that most coworking operators never develop. The ability to create genuine hospitality at scale. The instinct for when to apply commercial savvy and when to just be human. The understanding that you have far more time to build rapport in a coworking space than you ever had serving tables—and what to do with that gift.This isn’t a “follow your dreams” story. It’s a clear-eyed account of what it actually takes to build community infrastructure in a place where digital nomads worry the Wi-Fi will fail mid-call and the power will cut out during their deadline. Stephen solved the infrastructure problem—dual fibre connections, backup systems, air conditioning that works—but that’s just the entry ticket.The real story is in the human systems. How do you obtain genuine Google reviews without resorting to bribery? How do you recover from service failures when you’ve got weeks, not minutes, to make it right? How do you balance the economics of serving both Manila professionals working remotely and nomads earning global salaries? And why does the word “nomad” mean something completely different in the Philippines than it does in Bali or Lisbon?If you’re running a coworking space in a destination location, or thinking about it, this episode will save you months of expensive mistakes. If you’ve ever worked in hospitality and wondered how those skills transfer, Stephen’s already done the translation work for you.Timeline Highlights[01:48] “Creating local spaces that open doors to locals and remote workers and create opportunity for growth and community”[03:33] “Double the budget and twice the amount of time... If we could have done, I think having more time to build the community”[05:22] “I now know how to build, construct a building in the Philippines... what permits I have to get and how to get them and how to avoid fines”[07:27] “The hook for me was confidence... their assumption is the infrastructure... will be terrible. You've got to give them the confidence that you’ve worked that out.”[09:34] “You can’t get volume out of locals when it comes to reviews... Often, just asking... is half the battle”[12:25] “We have people literally knocking on the door... ‘Do you want to buy 100 Google reviews?’ We made the call very early doors, which was not in line with our values.”[14:01] “Commercial savvy with genuine hospitality. I think the two have got to really work hand in hand.”[16:53] “It’s more of the upside and far, far less of the downside... You have the time to build rapport and relationships.”[19:38] “We saw that they’d used a half-day pass and we just recredited it... sent them a note... It’s easy to look for those opportunities to wow people.”[22:24] “We call them remote workers because in the Philippines, nomads still probably got that slightly 19th-century connotation to it”[25:45] “A nomad has got that connotation of a hobo... the drifter... The word has just not been modernised like it has in the West.”[26:52] “We need a bit more critical mass... Pure volume is going to bring our ideas to life.”[28:16] “We’re going to put all the infrastructure in and all the training in... now it’s got to be stress-tested”The Infrastructure Confidence GameDigital nomads researching the Philippines face a harsh reality: the infrastructure may not be reliable. Power cuts. Unreliable Wi-Fi. Backup systems that aren’t actually backed up.Stephen’s first job wasn’t building community—it was solving the infrastructure problem so thoroughly that remote workers would believe him when he said it worked. Dual fibre-optic connections. Reliable power. Air conditioning that actually runs all day. These aren’t luxury amenities in El Nido; they’re proof that you’ve done the homework.But here’s where it gets interesting: you can’t just solve the problem. You have to prove you’ve solved it. That’s where the Google reviews become critical. A digital nomad choosing between Bali, Thailand, or the Philippines will do desktop research. They’re looking for social proof that someone like them successfully worked from your space without their client call dropping or their deadline getting torched by a power outage.The infrastructure is the entry ticket. The reviews are the invitation. Neither works without the other. Stephen learned this faster than most because he came from the hospitality industry, where the gap between what you promise and what you deliver can destroy businesses overnight.The Art of the Genuine AskStephen’s team doesn’t buy Google reviews. People knock on the door weekly, offering to sell them 100 five-star ratings. They say no every time.Instead, they’ve built a system that feels human: they wait until someone’s last day, when the experience is fresh and complete. They ask directly—would you mind leaving us a review? If the person says yes and genuinely had a good time, they offer a coffee as a thank you.The coffee costs less than 20 pence. That’s not the point. The point is timing and intent. These remote workers have spent weeks in the space. They’ve built relationships with the team. They’ve seen the kitchen, met the chef, and experienced the care. By the time someone asks for a review, it’s not a cold transaction—it’s a natural extension of the rapport that’s already there.This only works because the underlying experience is genuine. You can’t manufacture five-star reviews with a 20p coffee if the Wi-Fi failed three times and lunch was consistently late. The “commercial savvy” Stephen talks about isn’t manipulation—it’s recognising the moment when someone genuinely wants to help you and making it easy for them to do so.The contrast with fake reviews isn’t just ethical. It’s strategic. Fake reviews create expectations you can’t meet. Genuine reviews, even if they take longer to accumulate, bring you the right customers—people who actually want what you’re offering.Hospitality Time Versus Restaurant TimeIn a restaurant, you have 90 minutes to make an impression. Maybe two hours if it’s a special occasion. Everything moves fast. If something goes wrong, you’ve got minutes to recover before the experience is ruined and the customer leaves forever.Coworking spaces operate on a completely different timescale. Someone buying a monthly pass will be in your space for weeks. You build rapport gradually. You learn their name, their work patterns, and their coffee order. When something goes wrong—and it will—you have time to notice, time to fix it, and time to go beyond fixing it.Stephen tells the story of a lunch order that got lost in the kitchen for 25 minutes. In a restaurant, that’s a disaster requiring immediate comped drinks and a grovelling apology. In the coworking space, the customer didn’t even care. They’d met the chef. They knew the standard. They’d built enough relationship capital that one mistake registered as human error, not system failure.But Stephen’s team didn’t stop there. Days later, they noticed the customer had used a half-day pass and proactively recredited it with a note. The customer was overwhelmed. They’d already moved past the incident, and here was the team going out of their way to make things right.This is what Stephen means by “all the upside and far, far less of the downside.” In hospitality terms, coworking gives you the relationship benefits of regular customers without the time pressure of table turns. You can look for opportunities to delight people because you’re not constantly fighting the clock.The Numbers Behind Neighbours and NomadsStephen said it plainly in an earlier conversation: “You run the numbers and you realise that they’re pretty scary.”This is the economic reality of destination coworking that most operators discover too late. You can’t make the numbers work on coworking memberships alone—especially when you’re providing dual fibre-optic internet, backup power systems, and air conditioning in a place where those things cost serious money to maintain.That’s why Stephen knew from the start that Neighbours & Nomads needed a full café and bar operation. The F&B isn’t a nice-to-have amenity—it’s the financial model that makes the coworking viable. You need people buying coffee, lunch, and evening drinks to subsidise the infrastructure investment that makes reliable remote work possible.The pricing reflects this reality. Monthly passes sit at 12,500 Philippine pesos. For context, a local graduate’s monthly salary in the Philippines ranges from 13,000 to 25,000 pesos. A daily pass costs 800 pesos—more than the daily minimum wage in Manila.This isn’t unique to Stephen’s space. It’s the economic tension that exists in every destination coworking location, from Lisbon to Bali to Siargao. When you’re building first-world infrastructure in developing economies, the pricing naturally serves people earning global salaries rather than local wages.Stephen’s vision was always to connect both groups—the digital nomads and what he calls “locals.” But the “locals” who can afford regular membership are typically Manila professionals who’ve relocated to El Nido for quality of life, freelancers earning international rates, or entrepreneurs already plugged into the tourism economy. They’re remote workers who left the capital and now find themselves “trapped

The panic hits when winter arrives, and you can’t be bothered to leave the house.When it’s easier to dial into the Zoom call than get in the car. When streaming feels more sensible than showing up.When convenience wins and connection loses.Shamena Nurse-Kingsley runs Cowo & Crèche in Alexandria, Virginia—a faith-forward, family-focused coworking space that hosts Celebration Church DC every Sunday morning. She’s a US Air Force veteran and former federal employee who’s built what she unapologetically calls a “Kingdom business.”In a city of 159,102 people, she’s got 50 coworking seats and capacity for 338 at events.Her response when Bernie asks about the numbers: “I like my odds.”This conversation cuts to the heart of what independent operators are avoiding: that convenience is killing community. Trying to appeal to everyone makes you invisible. Those values-driven spaces cut through the noise better than generic flexibility ever will.Bernie brings his own experience growing up in church communities—the barbecues after Mass, the football teams, the youth clubs—where connection happened not because it was convenient, but because people showed up.Shamena talks about partnership agreements that blend grace with structure, about hosting Muslim groups for Iftar celebrations, about baptism pools and production equipment. About why “people are good” and why showing up in person still matters even when the screen would be easier.This is for operators who’ve watched members drift towards the convenience of home. Who wonders if community still matters. Who needs permission to lean harder into their values rather than softer?Timeline Highlights[01:35] Shamena “I am being known for my very unapologetic, faith-forward space”[02:56] Alexandria has 159,102 people—Shamena likes her odds with 50 coworking seats[04:51] “It’s Club Jesus. Every single Sunday, it’s absolutely Club Jesus here!”[06:09] How partnership agreements work: assets, lighting, production, grace, and structure[11:30] Shamena’s story: flying to Paris to see Messi play, then he moves to Miami[13:34] “There’s this sense of relief. You can hear the music, you can get a hug.”[15:16] The elephant in the room: “Connection is more important than convenience”[17:04] “Winter is coming. It is cold here. It’s going to be like 50 degrees.”[19:28] The critical question: is the faith organisation a partner or a client?[21:23] The baptism pool situation—where grace meets logistics[22:45] A Muslim group calls to host Iftar: “Yes, sure. Come on in.”[24:02] “People are good. I’m still a believer, Bernie, that people are good”[26:03] “Bernie is palm tree shady”—the banter that proves real friendshipThe Elephant Everyone’s AvoidingNo one wants to say it out loud: convenience is killing community.Shamena names it without hesitation. “I think no one wants to step on people’s toes, right? No one wants to say, speak out against remote work because everyone’s like, it’s so convenient.”Remote work is convenient. Streaming church is convenient. Staying in bed on a Sunday morning, in your pyjamas, with your Bible and the television, is convenient.But convenient isn’t the same as connected.“We’ve just put so much emphasis now on our convenience and self, and my own convenience and my own comfort. And now, connection is going down, down, down that list.”This isn’t anti-remote-work. Shamena built Cowo & Crèche partly because remote work created impossible situations for working parents—she didn’t want YouTube raising her children whilst she worked. The problem isn’t flexibility. It’s when convenience becomes the only metric that matters.Bernie recognises this tension immediately: “We talk about connection and community more than ever, and maybe that’s just because we’re in the coworking industry.”But talking about connection and actually creating the conditions for it are entirely different things.The operators who thrive won’t be the ones offering the most convenient option. They’ll be the ones creating experiences worth the inconvenience of showing up.Partnership vs Client: Structure Behind the GraceHere’s what most operators miss when working with faith organisations: the distinction between partnership and client relationships matters.“Is this a partnership with the faith-based organisation, or are they a client? That’s a good starting point.”For Cowo & Crèche, Celebration Church DC (pastored by Anthony Vaughn and Brenda Vaughn) isn’t just renting space on Sundays. They’re in a genuine partnership—sharing assets, production equipment, and lighting. The church has invested in permanent infrastructure that benefits the space all week.But partnership doesn’t mean woolly boundaries.“We do have our SOPs. We do have partnership agreements. You should lock those things in and let it be tight. But also knowing that, listen, we’re going to have a baptism here coming up on Sunday. There’s a whole baptism pool situation.”This is what Shamena calls “Kingdom business”—grace layered with structure and systems. She’s got 25 years of experience in budgeting and logistics and two master’s degrees. “By no means am I just here riding on a Jesus high with no structure, right?”The emails about mop situations and towel logistics for baptism pools. The evening setup time is not charged at market rate because it’s a partnership, not a transaction. The clear understanding that business remains business even when relationships run deeper.Grace and structure. Both are held in tension.The 160,000-Person OpportunityBernie asks the question every operator should ask: “How many people live in Alexandria?”Shamena Googles it mid-conversation: “In the city of Alexandria, as of 2024, there are 159,102 people. In my space, I have 11,597 square feet, and the fire marshal tells me that I can have 338 people in here.”Her response: “I like my odds.”This is the mathematics of the niche. In a city of 160,000 people, you don’t need to appeal to everyone. You need to become the obvious choice for your people.Bernie makes the point sharper: “There’s actually more coworking seats in London than there are people... There’s always more people than there are seats, and people are always trying to be the same.”Everyone’s competing to be vanilla. To be neutral. To offend nobody and appeal to everybody.Shamena’s doing the opposite. Faith-forward. Family-focused. Veteran-owned. Unapologetic.The question isn’t whether your values will turn some people away. They will. The question is whether they’ll make you magnetic to the right people.When the Building Becomes a CongregationEvery Sunday morning, Cowo & Crèche transforms.“It’s Club Jesus. Every single Sunday, it’s absolutely Club Jesus here.”Shamena and her husband don’t pastor the church—they host it. They’re part of the congregation. They’ve woven their business and their faith community together in ways that blur the boundaries in generative ways.Bernie names what this really is: “It’s like hosting a party every weekend, guaranteed in your coworking space.”People come through the doors after a hard week and feel relief. * They hear music. * They get hugs. * They feel at home. * They’re part of something that doesn’t kick them out on a time clock.Bernie recognises this from his own upbringing: “My mum was a teacher and she was a catechist all her life. We were always at church... We went for the community vibe, and there happened to be a religious ceremony along the way.”Churches, temples, mosques—faith spaces—originally grew up at the centre of communities. Towns built around them. They were infrastructure for gathering, mutual aid, celebration, grief, and belonging.Then something happened. Attendance shifted. Convenience won. Streaming became easier than showing up.Now faith organisations are looking for ways to reconnect with their communities. Not by making religion more palatable, but by remembering they were always supposed to be about more than Sunday morning ceremony.Coworking operators with spaces sitting empty on weekends should pay attention.The Inclusion Question That Actually MattersShamena’s space is explicitly faith-forward. But that doesn’t mean it’s exclusive.“Early in the year, I had a Muslim group call. They wanted a place to host Iftar on a Friday that was big for the community. And I’m like, yes, sure. Come on in.”She continues: “Even if you don’t necessarily believe the faith journey that I’m on or you don’t ascribe to it, that doesn’t exclude you. Once it’s not extremely antithetical to what we believe. And what I believe is that people are good.”This is the nuance operators miss when they try to be everything to everyone. Shamena’s crystal clear about her values. But her values include hospitality, community, and the belief that people are fundamentally good.You can be specific without being exclusionary. You can have a clear identity without building walls.The Muslim community hosting Iftar at a Christian-partnered space isn’t a contradiction. It’s proof that values-driven spaces can hold more complexity than a generic “flexible workspace” ever could.The Messi Test for Real CommunityShamena tells a story about her husband, who never misses a Barcelona match.“There was nothing like seeing his face when I surprised him with tickets to go see a match.” She flew them to Paris for a weekend to see Messi play at PSG. Then Messi moved to Miami. “We need tickets to Miami, which would have been cheap.”The point lands: “You can be at home, and you can watch a match, and we have this wonderful big screen TV, and it could be HD and all of the things. But there’s nothing like being there in person with the crowd, with other spectators. That’s community.”She connects it to church immediately: “There is the convenience that you can stream, and you can come online, or you can listen to church on a podcast. But when you come in here, you feel it. It’s the pulse.”The technology can deliver content. It cannot deliver presence.Bernie shares his own story—organising a mass for 5,000

Episode Summary“I really struggled to relate to people at school because the conversations that I was hoping to be able to have with my friends were about the things that were going on outside the school gates... But what I love about finding the collective is that it’s given me permission to imagine another way of doing things, and that it really has felt like a real homecoming.”Ellie Meredith is 19 years old. She’s a Community Cultivator at Re-Action Collective, co-organiser of Shrewsbury’s Climate Café, and the protagonist of a 25-minute documentary called ACTionism that’s currently screening in living rooms, pubs, libraries, and coworking spaces across the world.But two years ago, she was crawling inside herself, overwhelmed by climate anxiety, trapped in a classroom where nobody wanted to talk about the things that actually mattered.The shift came from two questions. Not from a therapist. Not from a careers advisor. From Jon Alexander, whom she’d emailed after reading his book about citizenship. He asked, "What gives you joy?" And where does that joy meet the work that needs doing in the world?Those questions cracked something open. Within weeks, she’d met the crew at Re-Action Collective—a grassroots organisation challenging the outdoor industry’s throwaway culture by teaching repair, running gear rental schemes, and making the outdoors accessible to people who’ve been priced out. She’d found her people. She’d stopped trying to save the planet alone.This conversation isn’t just about Ellie’s journey. It’s about what coworking spaces can do with a 25-minute film, a room full of chairs arranged in a circle, and an invitation to dream together about what could happen next in your community. Bernie and Ellie walk through the mechanics of hosting a community screening—how to avoid the tumbleweed moment after the credits roll, why repair workshops and art supplies work better than Q&As, and what actually happens when you give people permission to imagine differently.If you’ve ever wondered how to use your space for something deeper than hot-desking, this is the blueprint. Find your people. Host a screening. See what begins.Timeline Highlights[01:14] Bernie sets the frame: this is about getting like-minded people in your coworking space, watching something together, and having intentional conversations afterwards[02:21] Ellie’s realisation: “Do you know how much of a life fluke that is?” — finding your people quickly after leaving school[02:35] “I was feeling quite lost at sea and fairly lonely. I really struggled to relate to people at school because the conversations I was hoping to have were about things going on outside the school gates.”[04:21] The origin of Ellie’s climate concern: volunteering with Shropshire Wildlife Trust, watching flooding happen more and more, seeing nature collapse on her doorstep[07:51] Bernie’s question about neurodiversity: Does feeling things more deeply make the horror worse when you see a flood?[09:09] “Being neurodivergent certainly adds another level of complexity to the read that I have on the world.”[10:19] How ACTionism works: community screenings in living rooms, pubs, libraries, anywhere people gather—not on streaming platforms, not touring cinemas[12:37] Bernie asks the hard question: how do you avoid the awkward silence after showing a film?[14:25] The circle method: sit everyone in a big circle, including the filmmaker, so it’s not one person answering questions but the whole room having a conversation[16:04] What happens after screenings: dreaming activities with post-it notes, repair workshops, art supplies for visual responses[19:09] Bernie: “How on Earth did you find yourself in a film?”[21:12] The email that changed everything: Ellie writes to Jon Alexander after reading his book about citizenship[24:46] Bernie’s main takeaway from the Conduit event: we don’t have to have all the answers[29:00] Where to find Ellie: LinkedIn, and obviously the Re-Action CollectiveThe Neurospicy Activist Who Hated Four WallsSchool was suffocating for Ellie. Not in the vague, everyone-hates-homework way. In the specific, visceral, ‘I’m-crawling-inside-myself’ way that happens when you’re neurodivergent and the world insists you sit still in four walls whilst climate collapse is happening outside the gates.She describes herself as a “neurospicy human”—a phrase that does more work than any clinical diagnosis could. It signals: I feel things on a different frequency. The mounting pressure of exams didn’t just stress her out; it became too much. The conversations at school weren’t about what mattered. They were surface-level whilst floods were getting worse in Shropshire, whilst nature was collapsing on her doorstep from her volunteer work with the Wildlife Trust.Bernie picks up on this immediately. He asks if neurodiversity exacerbates the feeling of horror when you see a flood. Ellie’s answer: “I definitely feel things a lot more deeply than other people. My senses around it are very much heightened, and I don’t really know where to put any of that energy unless it’s part of collective action.”This is the heart of why ACTionism matters for coworking spaces. Your members aren’t all neurotypical. They’re not all processing climate anxiety, economic precarity, or community collapse in the same way. But many of them are feeling it deeply, and they don’t know where to put that energy. The solo mission to save the world—buying a reusable cup, recycling properly—feels joyless because it is. It’s action without connection. It’s doing something to feel less helpless, not because it actually changes anything.Ellie found the outlet she needed when she found Re-Action Collective. Not because they had the answers, but because they gave her a crew. People who cared about the same things. People who were doing something together, not alone.Two Questions That Rerouted EverythingAfter leaving school, Ellie emailed Jon Alexander. She’d read his book about citizenship—stories of ordinary people doing extraordinary things—and it cracked something open. She wasn’t expecting much back. Maybe a thumbs up. Maybe nothing.Instead, Jon invited her to London. They sat down together, and he asked two questions:* What gives you joy?* Where does that joy meet the work that needs doing in the world?Those questions are deceptively simple. They’re not: What do you want to be when you grow up? Or what’s your five-year plan? They’re citizen questions, not consumer questions. They assume you have agency. They assume the world needs what brings you alive.Ellie’s answer: she loved being outside, volunteering with the Wildlife Trust, and she wanted to do more with other people in her community. Jon made the connection to Re-Action Collective, a grassroots organisation in the French Alps working on circular economy solutions for the outdoor industry. Two years later, she’s a Community Cultivator there, and her journey is the spine of a documentary being screened in hundreds of communities worldwide.For coworking operators, this moment is instructive. The most valuable thing you can offer your members isn’t faster WiFi or better coffee. It’s the connection between what gives them joy and the work that needs to be done. Sometimes that connection happens in a casual hallway conversation. Sometimes it happens because you hosted a film screening and someone realised they weren’t alone.Jon Alexander didn’t solve Ellie’s climate anxiety. He asked better questions. Your coworking space can do the same.Community Screenings as Civic InfrastructureACTionism isn’t on Netflix. It’s not touring cinemas. It’s moving through the world via community screenings—living rooms, pubs, libraries, coworking spaces. Anywhere people can gather with open hearts and curious minds.This is intentional. The film is designed to be a conversation starter, not a consumption experience. You request a screening kit, pay what you feel (they suggest £100 to keep the magic going), and host it wherever makes sense for your community. * The guide Ellie wrote walks you through it. * The film itself is 25 minutes. * What happens afterwards is where the work begins.Bernie asks the operator’s question: How do you avoid the tumbleweed moment? You show something. You ask for questions. Silence.Ellie’s learned from organisations like 99p Films in Cornwall, who’ve turned community screenings into a ritual: communal feast, mindful breathing, film, then discussion. But the key shift is the circle. Don’t stand at the front like you’re answering questions from an audience. Sit in a circle with everyone else. Let the person next to someone speak first, so others gain the confidence to join in.The screenings that work best don’t end with Q&As. They end with action. Some communities do “wouldn’t it be wonderful if...” dreaming activities—stack post-it notes with ideas, then figure out together how to make one happen. Others run repair workshops, teaching darning or visible mending whilst people chat. Some bring out art supplies and let people respond visually, because words don’t always reach the places that need reaching.For coworking spaces, this is plug-and-play civic infrastructure. * You already have the room. * You already have the chairs. * You already have members who care about their community but don’t know how to move from caring to doing. * A 25-minute film and a facilitated conversation can be the bridge.From Passive Watchers to Active ParticipantsThe language around ACTionism is precise. It’s not activism in the traditional sense—protests, petitions, pressure campaigns. It’s actionism. Acting towards something, not just resisting what is. Reimagining what could be.This distinction matters for community spaces. Traditional activism can feel inaccessible or intimidating to people who don’t see themselves as “activists.” Actionism is quieter. It’s repair cafés and skill shares. It’s dreaming activities and Post-it notes. It’s the shift from being a passive spectator

Episode Summary“When there is such a place in a peripheral area, it’s usually a place that a young person will visit one way or another. You can reach out to them. You can walk around the neighbourhood because we’re talking about small communities, so you know each other.”Dimitris is a PhD researcher at Panteion University of Social and Political Sciences in Athens, Research Fellow at Politécnico di Milano for the Remaking Horizon project on remote working policies, project lead for Rural Radicals, collaborator on EU and EEA-funded initiatives like ResMove and Cowork4YOUTH.He’s a storyteller who changed his medium from literature to community infrastructure. His entire professional life reads as a search for a new, more empowering narrative for the people and places left behind by Europe’s dominant economic story.He grew up in Greece’s intellectual centres—Thessaloniki and Athens—but now turns his focus to the periphery. The forgotten villages. The declining market towns. The suburbs where the last young person left decades ago. He’s translating the language of the urban core and applying it to heartlands that desperately need new economic models.The problem is stark: across Spain, France, Greece, and beyond, entire regions are being drained of their young talent. Not a trickle, but a haemorrhage. The brightest minds pack bags and board planes from regional airports, heading for Berlin, Madrid, Barcelona, and London. The term “brain drain” sounds clinical. But behind every statistic is a family losing a daughter, a village losing its future, a local economy losing the one person who might have started something new.Dimitris isn’t just researching this crisis. He’s building the infrastructure to reverse it. His work poses a provocative question: what if coworking spaces are more than just remote work and good Wi-Fi? What if they’re actually civic infrastructure—the new town squares where young people practise economic citizenship, where migrants find pathways to entrepreneurship, where peripheral communities discover they don’t need to move to the capital to build meaningful work?This conversation explores how collaborative spaces can become mediators, bringing together digital opportunities, community networks, and practical skills training. Bernie and Dimitris discuss everything from the cost-of-living crisis pushing people back to smaller towns, to the specific challenges facing Greece’s social enterprise sector, to why youth retention requires more than sporadic events—it demands organised, sustained policy that connects bottom-up needs with top-down support.This episode matters because it challenges the narrative that economic opportunity only exists in major cities. For independent coworking operators, this masterclass helps you understand your role not just as a business owner, but as a community anchor. For anyone working in peripheral regions, it’s proof that brain gain is possible when you build the proper infrastructure for connection, learning, and economic agency.⏱ Timeline Highlights[01:24] Dimitris introduces himself: PhD researcher studying youth engagement and employment policies in collaborative workspaces across peripheral Europe[04:04] Bernie asks the sleep question—when does Dimitris rest with so many projects spinning simultaneously?[06:45] “Peripheral doesn’t just mean rural—it can be a left-behind suburb or an old warehouse area inside a city”[09:05] “Building your network is one of the hardest things young people need to do. The opportunities to build your network are very, very small nowadays.”[12:23] The economic reality: young people move from Vigo to Barcelona and Madrid, taking their wealth with them—coworking spaces can anchor people locally[16:00] “The cost-of-living crisis discourages young people from staying longer in big cities”[17:51] “Many old institutions, like community centres, adopt coworking practices and rebrand themselves as hubs”[18:04] Bernie asks about Dimitris’s ideal hub—the mental picture he carries[20:19] “It’s really nice, in Greek, we say to listen to a good word, to a nice word every day when you go.”[22:00] Where to find Dimitris: LinkedIn is the central hub for all his projects and deliverables[24:01] Bernie’s closing: host a screening of the Actionism film in your coworking space to kickstart community conversations about collective actionThe Peripheral Economy ProblemThe language matters here. Dimitris doesn’t say “rural decline” like it’s inevitable. He says “peripheral areas” because geography isn’t the only factor. You can be peripheral in the heart of a city—an old industrial quarter where the factories closed, where services dried up, where nobody opens new businesses anymore.These areas share common symptoms: population loss, ageing demographics, limited job opportunities, poor digital infrastructure, and a persistent sense of being left behind. The social and economic isolation feeds on itself. When young people leave, they take energy, ideas, purchasing power, and hope with them.This isn’t just about losing workers. It’s about losing the social fabric. When the young leave, community organisations lose volunteers. Local businesses lose customers. Schools close. The remaining residents age in place, and the cycle becomes self-reinforcing.Dimitris has spent years interviewing young people across Europe who are beneficiaries of employment and engagement initiatives run through collaborative spaces. What he’s discovered challenges the fatalistic narrative that these places are doomed. The pattern he’s documenting suggests that with the proper infrastructure—both digital and social—peripheral regions can offer something cities increasingly can’t: affordability, community, and quality of life.The pandemic proved this wasn’t just a theory. During lockdowns, knowledge workers fled expensive city centres for countryside cottages and coastal towns. Some stayed. The question now is whether communities can build the right conditions to make staying attractive, not just temporarily tolerable.Youth Engagement as Community InfrastructureDimitris describes a methodology that works: use collaborative spaces as the physical anchor for youth engagement, then build programming around what young people need.First step: stop waiting for them to find you. Walk around the neighbourhood. In small communities, you know each other. Do customer research—ask young people what events they’d actually attend, what skills they want to learn, what barriers they face.Then bring them into the space with other like-minded peers, some professionals, maybe policymakers, depending on the event. The magic isn’t in the formal programming—it’s in the informal networks that form when people start showing up regularly. Someone mentions they need help with graphic design. Another person knows someone. A conversation leads to a collaboration. A collaboration leads to paid work.Dimitris is careful to distinguish between engagement and employment. Engagement is the umbrella term—getting people out of isolation, connecting them to community, giving them a place to belong. Employment is one of the direct or indirect effects of engagement. You can’t force job creation, but you can create the conditions where economic opportunity becomes more likely.The spaces that succeed with youth retention share standard practices: they offer skills workshops on remote work, business setup, and digital tools. They host regular social events that aren’t explicitly about work. They maintain a visible presence in the community rather than expecting everyone to find them online. And critically, they work with—not against—young people’s desire for meaningful work that doesn’t require leaving home.What this conversation doesn’t capture is the toll. The grant applications that fail. The community members who leave anyway. The quiet moments when building this infrastructure feel like bailing out the ocean with a teaspoon. Dimitris carries this work across multiple countries whilst the economic ground keeps shifting beneath everyone’s feet. For the exhausted UK operator listening to this, that tension between vision and viability isn’t abstract—it’s Tuesday afternoon.The Digital Opportunity (and Its Economic Reality)The cost-of-living crisis is reshaping where people can afford to live. Dimitris sees this as a convergence point: cities are becoming increasingly unaffordable, while remote work is becoming increasingly viable. For the first time in generations, young people don’t automatically need to move to the capital to access knowledge economy jobs.But let’s be clear about the economics. Remote work solves the income problem only if you already have clients, skills, and savings. For local youth without university degrees or professional networks, “learn to code” isn’t a magic wand. Digital skills matter, but so does access to the networks that generate paid work in the first place.Bernie often talks about how the middle class is being hollowed out, and coworking should wake up and pay attention before coworking becomes a privilege. If peripheral spaces are to anchor economic opportunity, they must be affordable for local wage earners, not just for remote workers who bring London salaries to Greek villages.The coworking space acts as a mediator, bringing all the threads together. It has the physical space, the people who run it with knowledge and networks, and the neutrality that allows different groups to mix. It’s not a youth centre (which might feel too institutional) or a startup accelerator (which might feel too exclusive)—it’s a third place where anyone can show up, pay a reasonable rate, and find their people.This is particularly crucial for retaining graduates who leave peripheral areas to study in bigger cities. The question isn’t whether they’ll leave initially—most will. The question is whether something is compelling enough to bring them back after they finish their degree. A thriving collaborative works

Episode Summary“There is a real disconnect between community coworking spaces and the people who will fund these kinds of needs.”There’s a gap. On one side, people are arriving in Europe with skills, education, and drive. On the other side, coworking spaces are built on community, collaboration, and openness. In the middle, a wall of bureaucracy, funding applications, and municipal departments that nobody knows how to navigate.Jeannine van der Linden has run a coworking space in Oosterhout, Netherlands, since 2010. She knows exactly what it feels like to walk into her local municipality with a good idea and watch officials stare blankly because nobody knows what to do with her.That disconnect — between community coworking spaces and the institutions holding funds for community projects — is costing everyone. Migrants can’t access spaces. Spaces can’t access funding. Economic potential sits idle whilst paperwork piles up.Enter RES-MOVE: 11 partners across 10 countries, funded by the European Commission’s AMIF (asylum, migrants, and integration fund), with one mission — turn coworking spaces into real integration hubs. Not charity. Not handouts. What Jeannine calls “a strategic economic necessity.”This conversation strips away the polish. Jeannine talks openly about writing grant proposals that bombed because coworking operators think like entrepreneurs (will this turn a profit?) whilst municipalities think like impact assessors (what will this do for our community?). She explains why the Ukrainian diaspora became the initial focus, and how it evolved as the reality of long-term migration set in. She reveals that NGO partners already possess the municipal contacts that coworking spaces have been seeking for years.The friction is real. The timeline is slow (EU projects move from first contact to active work over several years). But the pathway is clear: coworking spaces need to stop reinventing the funding wheel and start partnering with organisations that already know how to open those doors.If you’ve ever felt stuck between having the capacity to serve your community and no clue how to fund it adequately, this episode hands you the map. Jeannine’s not selling inspiration. She’s offering infrastructure.This is for: Independent coworking operators who know their space could serve their community better, but don’t know how to access funding. Community builders are frustrated by dead-end grant applications. Anyone who’s ever been told “somebody will send you an email” by their local council, only to receive nothing.You’ll leave with: Practical knowledge about EU funding structures, why NGO partnerships matter, how to reframe your pitch from profit to impact, and exactly where the RES-MOVE project needs help right now.Timeline Highlights[00:04] “There’s a gap” — Bernie frames the core problem: skilled migrants, community-ready coworking spaces, and a bureaucratic wall nobody knows how to climb[01:55] Jeannine calls in from Oosterhout, Netherlands — halfway between Amsterdam and Brussels, running a coworking space since 2010[02:17] RES-MOVE explained: Resources On the Move — migrants as economic resources to Europe, funded by AMIF[03:24] “Coworking spaces can act as integration hubs” — the central thesis driving 11 partners across 10 countries[04:31] The EU timeline reality check — from first contact to funding approval to actually starting work takes years[06:41] The corporate/community divide exposed — some spaces don’t even call themselves coworking spaces or know they’re part of the movement[08:37] What a coworking space actually gets from RES-MOVE — events, projects, connections to develop their capacity, not just cash handouts[09:53] “Strategic economic necessity, not a handout” — Jeannine reframes the entire conversation about migrant support[12:17] The funding disconnect revealed — coworking spaces can’t even find the right person at the municipality; NGO partners already have those contacts[13:46] The presentation that failed — when coworking spaces pitch profit whilst municipalities only care about community impact[20:43] “Sometimes this happens in the middle of a project” — ideas evolve, maps get redesigned, new funding opportunities emerge[25:01] The Call for Ideas is still open — if you’ve got a project that increases inclusion for migrants in your coworking space, fill out the form[27:24] Marko Orel’s November seminar announced — focusing on Ukrainian diaspora, long-term integration, and what actually works[31:07] Marko introduced properly — Head of Centre for Workplace Research at the University of Prague, Department of Entrepreneurship, Academic Director of the extended realities research lab[32:22] Helga Moreno — works at SpaceBring coworking software, Ukrainian Coworking Association leader, “a big cheese”The Bureaucratic Wall Between Good Ideas and FundingHere’s what actually happens when you walk into your local council with a coworking project that could genuinely help your community: absolutely nothing.Jeannine describes the experience with the specificity that only comes from living it. * You prepare a presentation. * You explain your project. * You centre it around what entrepreneurs care about — costs, profit, sustainability. * The officials nod politely. Someone says, “somebody will send you an email.” * Nobody ever does. You’re unsure who to follow up with. The project dies.The problem isn’t your idea. The problem is you’re speaking a different language. As Jeannine puts it, municipalities “literally never had that thought” about whether something would cover its costs and turn a profit. What they want to know is: what’s the impact on our community? How does this affect the municipality?This gap has kept coworking spaces away from significant funding for years. Not because the money doesn’t exist — there are substantial funds at the municipal, regional, and EU levels specifically for community projects. But because nobody taught coworking operators how to frame their work in impact terms, and nobody taught municipal funding officers what coworking spaces actually are.The Netherlands has made progress — all grants are now consolidated on a single website. But as Jeannine points out, even when it’s well organised, you as a solo coworking operator probably don’t have time to read that website, decode the requirements, and craft a proposal that speaks their language. That’s not a personal failing. That’s a structural gap that needs bridging.Why NGOs Already Have the Access You’ve Been Hunting ForOne of the quietly revolutionary aspects of RES-MOVE is who’s actually in the room. Out of 11 partner organisations, there are two academic partners, the European Coworking Assembly, and eight NGOs that work with migrants on a regular basis. They’re not coworking people. They’re migration specialists. And they already know exactly who to call at the municipality.Jeannine describes walking into the first meeting in Athens and saying, “I have a coworking space, but I don’t, to my knowledge, have any migrants.” That’s when it became clear: there’s a serious disconnect between community coworking spaces and the people who will fund these kinds of needs.Then comes the surprise. There are two partners in the Netherlands on this project: Jeannine’s space and an NGO called NetworkPro that works primarily with women. NetworkPro already knew people in Oosterhout. Jeannine’s town. Officials she’d been trying to reach. They just... knew them.This is the unlock. NGOs have spent time building relationships with the exact funding bodies that coworking spaces need to access. They understand the application processes, impact measurement frameworks, and the specific language required for proposal approval. They’ve already navigated the maze.The RES-MOVE model isn’t asking coworking spaces to become funding experts overnight. It’s creating partnerships where NGOs bring municipal access and migration expertise, whilst coworking spaces bring physical infrastructure and community integration capacity. Each partner contributes what they actually know how to do.For independent coworking operators reading this: you don’t need to learn everything about EU funding structures tomorrow. You need to find the local NGO that’s already doing community work and start a conversation about collaboration. They’re looking for physical spaces and community networks. You have both.Migrants as Economic Resources, Not Problems to SolveThe entire framing of RES-MOVE hinges on a single, crucial reposition. As Jeannine explains: “The inflexion point of this project is that the migrants entering Europe are resources to Europe that are not, for various reasons, getting brought to their full development when they get to Europe.”This isn’t soft language or charitable thinking. This is an economic reality. Jeannine emphasises that, particularly with Ukrainians, “they are, in general, highly educated people. Ukraine was a tech centre, an ag centre.” These aren’t people who need basic skills training. They’re individuals who require access to networks, workspace, and the social infrastructure that facilitates integration into a new economy.She’s clear about the gap between public messaging and reality: “There’s a lot of public messaging, much of which is misinformation about refugees and who they are. Refugees are not dirty, poor, and uneducated, and certainly the Ukrainians are not.”The traditional refugee support model focuses on immediate needs — housing, food, safety. Essential, yes. But it often stops there, creating dependency rather than a pathway to economic participation. Coworking spaces are positioned differently. They’re designed around collaboration, openness, and economic opportunity.When Jeannine talks about RES-MOVE’s goal — “to support migrants in their ability to either get a job, start a business, and in so doing, integrate in their local communities” — she’s describing what coworking spaces already do for everyone else. The only diffe

Episode Summary“The future is going to be more like the past than it is the present. With AI taking over so many jobs, it will likely take over all jobs involving staring at a computer. The people that are actually making things—I think we’re just going to want more and more of it.”Michael Korn spent 15 years being known as “the screen guy.”He built KwickScreen—hospital screens that scaled massively during the pandemic. He worked in factories worldwide. He studied manufacturing at Cambridge and design and innovation at the Royal College of Art. He has lived the entire journey from prototype to a production-scalable business.And the whole time, he kept asking: why does inventing have to be so lonely, so expensive, so gate-kept?This conversation begins with a problem that most people never consider: you spend years at university with access to lathes, mills, welding equipment, and 3D printers—everything you need to create things. Then you graduate. It’s gone. Now you’re in your shed with limited tools, alone. This is where most hardware inventions die.Five minutes from Lewisham Station, behind big blue doors, Michael built what he wished existed when he started. Blue Garage is a microfactory, innovation hub, and maker space designed specifically for ambitious scale-up hardware businesses. Not hobbyists. Not artists. The inventors who want to take something from the prototype stage through to a production-scale business.The equipment list sounds like a maker’s wildest dream: 3-metre UV printers, CNC routers, a Zünd cutting bed, powder coating rooms, textiles labs, and electronics fabrication suites. Industrial tools that used to be locked away in universities or costly facilities are now accessible through a coworking-style membership model.But here’s the tension Michael’s navigating: his friends from Cambridge and the Royal College of Art mostly got jobs at consultancies and banks. Higher salaries, higher status—at least it used to be. The number of people who actually go on to be inventors, start businesses, build jobs, and change things? Surprisingly few.Bernie and Michael dig into why making things matters more now than ever—not despite AI, but because of it. When desk jobs are automated, when fast fashion collapses under Vinted and a repair culture emerges, and when we finally face the reality of pollution we’ve exported to someone else’s rivers, local manufacturing stops being nostalgic and starts being essential.The episode explores the lean startup approach to hardware (you don’t need perfection to start), the importance of community in solo manufacturing journeys (motivation matters when you’re hitting walls), and why universities are both brilliant incubators and often struggle to help graduates continue making things after they leave.This is for anyone who’s ever wanted to create something but didn’t know where to begin. For coworking operators curious about what innovation really looks like when it’s more than just a buzzword on a website. For community builders who understand that the tools and equipment matter less than the network of people using them together.You’ll leave understanding why manufacturing creates better jobs with multiplier effects that financial services never will, why the imperfection in the story often sells better than polished corporate products, and what happens when you give inventors the tools and community to do the work together instead of alone in their sheds.Timeline Highlights* [00:04] Bernie’s opening: “This is where most hardware inventions die” — the shed problem after university* [01:34] Michael’s shift: “I’ve been known for 15 years as the screen guy, now I want to be the Innovation Hub Scale-up Accelerator Hardware Inventor guy”* [02:23] Blue Garage defined: “A place where people who make things can exceed their expectations and ambitions”* [03:25] The equipment list: lathes, mills, welding, 10-metre screen printing table, powder coating room, Zünd cutting bed* [05:35] Michael’s origin: “Blue Garage is a place I wish were around when I started”* [07:21] The loneliness of inventing: “There’s something intrinsically good about making stuff, but it’s been done on your own in your shed with limited tools”* [08:38] The theory that changes everything: “The future is going to be more like the past than the present”* [12:56] Bernie asks about cost: “Do you need £1,000 to make a prototype happen?”* [14:30] The lean startup approach: “You can start selling based on a rough concept, then raise money to do it properly”* [17:22] Bernie’s cruel joke: university friends go work for McKinsey or Deutsche Bank* [18:49] The university gap: “They leave university and there’s nowhere to make things anymore”* [21:37] Bernie’s breakthrough: “Blue Garage is one of the few places using the word ‘innovation’ that doesn’t make me roll my eyes”* [24:29] Why manufacturing matters: “It creates jobs with a multiplier effect you don’t get in financial services”* [28:11] Michael’s ambitions: helping 45 companies instead of the planned 10, thinking globally while building nationallyThe Shed Problem Nobody Talks AboutEvery engineering and design student knows this feeling, even if they don’t recognise it until it’s too late.At university, you have access to everything. Lathes, mills, 3D printers, laser cutters, welding equipment, electronics labs. You design things, prototype them, and manufacture them. The facilities are included as part of your tuition and degree. You don’t necessarily appreciate it because you’re focused on your projects and deadlines.Then you graduate.Suddenly, all those tools are gone. You’re in your shed—or more likely, your flat—with maybe a drill and some basic hand tools. You have an idea for a product, something you want to develop, but the gap between what you can imagine and what you can actually make has become massive.This is where most hardware inventions die. Not because the ideas are bad. Not because the inventors lack skill or motivation. But because inventing hardware is lonely, expensive, and gate-kept in ways software development never was.Michael Korn lived this. He studied manufacturing at Cambridge, design and innovation at the Royal College of Art with Imperial. He had all the facilities, all the training. Then he was out in the world, building KwickScreen—hospital screens that would eventually scale massively during the pandemic—and doing it the hard way.Starting in the corner of a friend’s factory in Pinner with just a lathe. Building relationships with manufacturers abroad. Learning the expensive, slow, frustrating process of taking something from prototype to production when you don’t have institutional resources backing you.Blue Garage is Michael’s answer to the shed problem. It’s what he wished existed when he started 15 years ago. Not a maker space for hobbyists or artists—there are plenty of those. A facility designed specifically for ambitious hardware businesses looking to scale. For individuals in the perilous gap between a university graduate with an idea and an established company with manufacturing capacity.The model is simple: coworking-style membership gives you access to industrial equipment. You pay for your desk, you get the tools. The community is included.Why the Future Looks More Like the PastMichael has a theory that sounds nostalgic until you think about it for more than 30 seconds.AI is coming for desk jobs. Not just some jobs, not eventually—it’s already taking over work that involves staring at computers and processing information. The jobs that survive will be those that AI can’t do: caring for people in hospitals and making physical things.We’re going to want more manufacturing, more making, more local production. Not less.This isn’t Luddite resistance to technology. It’s recognising what happens when you can’t see where things are made, who makes them, and what pollution they create. Right now, so much of that is hidden—happening in factories across the world, polluting rivers we’ll never see, affecting communities we’ll never visit.The economy is fragile. When a ship gets stuck in the Suez Canal, we suddenly realise how many components go into everything we buy. When a pandemic strikes, we recognise our vulnerable reliance on manufacturing done elsewhere. The whole system is more vulnerable than we pretend.But there’s something deeper happening, too. The fastest-growing clothing brand is Vinted. People buying from each other, repairing things, fixing them up. Bernie’s 14-year-old son is making money finding vintage Ralph Lauren shirts and flipping them on Vinted. Fast fashion is facing an existential crisis, as customers are increasingly opting to repair and reuse rather than consume new products.This shift creates space for local manufacturing to become economically viable again. When people want to know where things are made, who made them, what the environmental cost was—that’s a market opportunity for UK-based hardware businesses that can tell those stories honestly.Michael’s betting everything on this shift. Blue Garage isn’t preparing for a nostalgic return to the past—it’s building infrastructure for a manufacturing renaissance driven by technology, environmental awareness, and economic necessity.The people most likely to lead this? University graduates with technical skills and no access to equipment. Inventors working alone in sheds. Ambitious entrepreneurs who can see the opportunity but don’t have £500,000 for a factory setup.Give them the tools, give them the community, and watch what happens.The Innovation Word That Finally WorksBernie has a visceral reaction to the word “innovation” these days.Ten years ago, he encouraged coworking spaces to put it on their websites. Community, collaboration, innovation—the holy trinity of coworking buzzwords. But then every group of desks in Hounslow started calling themselves innovation hubs. The word became meaningless.Until Blue Garage.This is one of the few buildings in L

Episode Summary“We are in a space now where we can get really imaginative about how we utilise resources and how we change the way we’re looking at money.”Tilley Harris spent a decade documenting what doesn’t show up in spreadsheets.As co-founder of AKOU, she’s obsessed with social capital—the invisible currencies exchanged every day in coworking spaces that somehow never make it into impact reports or funding decisions. Trust. Connection. Knowledge sharing. Emotional support. The kind of value that keeps communities alive but doesn’t fit neatly into quarterly returns.This conversation starts where most coworking discussions end: at the uncomfortable truth that local authorities can’t see what’s actually happening in community spaces. Redbridge has the highest number of microbusinesses of any London borough, yet it still can’t determine if coworking matters. Meanwhile, Lewisham’s using spaces like Faceworks to support refugees arriving with nothing, building economic pathways through community connections.Bernie and Tilley delve into ecosystem winning—a concept that sounds corporate but holds a radically different meaning. It’s about collective access to opportunity rather than individual survival. It’s the opposite of monoculture, requiring the messy complexity of diverse voices and contributions that don’t all look the same.The tension here is real: coworking operators are building thriving ecosystems in their neighbourhoods whilst simultaneously struggling to articulate their value to the people holding budgets. They’re creating social capital daily—through introduced freelancers who end up collaborating, through emotional support during burnout, and through knowledge exchanges that occur over coffee—but there’s no agreed-upon system for measuring or documenting these invisible currencies.Tilley brings a photographer’s eye to data, looking for the stories playing out beneath the surface. Before you can change how resources flow, you need a year of self-care and stress-shedding to get people’s nervous systems calm enough to imagine differently. That’s what she’s learned working with Lambeth micro-service providers through the Walcott Foundation.This episode is for coworking operators who know they’re making an impact but can’t quite explain it in ways that get them in the room where decisions happen. It’s for community builders exhausted from feeling like they’re the only ones grinding away in their neighbourhood. And it’s for anyone wondering why coworking spaces matter more than ever, whilst simultaneously being completely overlooked by local government.You’ll leave with language to describe the value you create, a connection to others building similar ecosystems, and a clearer picture of what’s possible when we stop trying to fit community impact into financial frameworks that were never designed to capture it.Timeline Highlights* [00:04] Bernie’s opening: hundreds of people starting projects in every neighbourhood, and how coworking spaces are replacing community centres* [01:38] Tilley defines AKOU’s mission: “obsessed with social capital and networks, showing people the magic that social capital can create”* [02:53] Ecosystem winning explained: “working as a collective to access more opportunities together”* [04:55] Bernie names the tension: “What’s the difference between a winning ecosystem and a clique?”* [06:27] Tilley on diversity: “For a thriving ecosystem, you need diversity. Monoculture forests are part of the climate change issues”* [09:24] The invisible currencies revelation: social capital, creative capital, emotional support, data—all exchanged but never documented* [12:49] Why now matters: “We’re at a really exciting time... on the brink of our completely new industrial revolution with AI”* [15:38] Bernie on the intangible magic of real-life connection: stretching imaginations about what coworking can do* [19:13] The golden share concept: giving the environment a seat at the board table* [22:54] Tilley’s Walcott Foundation project: 12 months of self-care funding before service providers could even think about resource allocation* [28:19] The recognition gap: “Is there enough celebration of what coworking spaces achieve despite the struggle?”* [30:34] Bernie’s example: Redbridge has the highest number of microbusinesses in London, but still can’t see why coworking matters* [31:59] Real impact examples: Faceworks supporting refugees, Urban MBA’s two-year relationship-building with the local community* [33:34] The invitation: London Coworking Assembly bringing 150 community builders together for deep conversationThe Value That Doesn’t Show Up in ReportsEvery coworking space operator knows this feeling: you’re changing lives daily, but when you try to explain your impact to a council officer or potential funder, the language falls apart.Tilley Harris has been chasing this problem for ten years. What started as photojournalism—capturing invisible stories—evolved into data work when she realised photographs only take you so far in conversations about resource allocation. The people making decisions about where money flows can’t see social capital, so they don’t fund it. They can’t measure trust exchanges, so they don’t value them.The irony is brutal: coworking spaces are some of the most capital-rich environments in their neighbourhoods, just not in the currency that counts on spreadsheets. A freelancer gets introduced to a potential collaborator. Someone going through burnout finds emotional support over coffee. A new arrival in the country accesses a network that leads to their first UK client. These exchanges occur dozens of times daily in spaces such as Urban MBA, Faceworks, and Space4.But try putting that in a funding application. Try explaining to Redbridge Council, which has one of the highest concentrations of microbusinesses in London, that coworking infrastructure might be a worthwhile investment. Bernie’s watched consultants submit multiple reports making this case. The response remains: maybe, we’ll think about it. Is this really necessary?Meanwhile, Waltham Forest, Islington, and Lewisham have worked it out. They’ve connected the dots between supporting local coworking spaces and keeping revenue in the borough whilst building community resilience. They’ve realised that when you create infrastructure for freelancers and microbusinesses to connect, you’re not just providing desks—you’re building economic pathways and social safety nets that weren’t there before.Ecosystem Winning vs Problem SolvingTilley introduces a concept that sounds corporate but means something radically different in practice: ecosystem winning.The social sector defaults to problem-solving. Understandable—there are genuine problems that need to be solved. But when you’re constantly in problem-solving mode, you only see problems. You lose the ability to spot possibilities and opportunities. You lose the sense that you have choices.Ecosystem winning invites a different question: how do we win more together rather than each struggling individually to overcome obstacles?Bernie immediately spots the danger: “What’s the difference between a winning ecosystem and a clique?” It’s a crucial distinction. London’s full of coworking spaces that opened in slightly rough neighbourhoods, attracting friendly people from nice areas who liked the cheap desks, and created thriving communities that somehow never included anyone from the actual neighbourhood in which they’re located.Tilley’s answer comes from ecology: thriving ecosystems require diversity. Monoculture forests contribute to climate change. Real resilience comes from complexity and messiness, from different types of contributions that don’t all look the same.This means changing what we value. Financial capital has dominated for so long that we’ve forgotten how to recognise other forms of wealth. What if we acknowledged creative capital—knowledge and skill exchanges happening without a price tag? What if emotional support were considered a form of currency? What if data exchanges, or the trust built through consistent showing up, were recognised as valuable contributions to the ecosystem?These aren’t abstract concepts. They’re happening in every coworking space, every day. The challenge is making them visible to people who only know how to measure what fits in balance sheets.The Twelve-Month Stress Shed Before StrategyTilley’s work with the Walcott Foundation reveals something most impact programmes miss: you can’t strategise your way out of burnout.The Foundation aimed to enhance its grant distribution process to microservice providers in Lambeth. The objective was to fund activities that genuinely make a difference rather than those that merely look impressive in reports. Sensible objective. But when they started talking to the service providers, they discovered something else needed to happen first.These organisations were struggling. Stress, burnout, and defence mechanisms had accumulated from years of under-resourcing and over-asking. They couldn’t think creatively about resource allocation because their nervous systems were stuck in survival mode.So Tilley’s team did something unusual: they spent twelve months just providing small pots of money for self-care. For teams. For individuals. No strings attached, no strategic planning required. Just: shed the stress, tend to yourselves, remember what it feels like to not be in crisis mode.Only after those twelve months could they begin year two—the actual work of rethinking how money flows, who makes decisions, and how it could be made easier for under-resourced services to access what they need.This has direct implications for coworking operators. You can’t build thriving ecosystems from a place of constant scarcity and hustle. You can’t create space for diverse voices when you’re in survival mode yourself. Self-care isn’t a luxury to address after you’ve sorted the business model—it’s the foundation that makes genuine

Episode Summary“In a former Soviet state, you derive your power from secrecy in a lot of ways. We were turning that idea upside down and pushing forth that collaboration is actually power and sharing is power.”Sara Anjargolian didn’t move to Armenia in 2012 because it was easy. She moved because she couldn’t look away.An American lawyer watching a former Soviet state slide back toward authoritarianism. A country where power came from what you knew, not who you were. Where work happened behind closed doors and strength meant keeping secrets.And then she did something that sounded simple but was actually radical: she built a space with glass walls.Impact Hub Yerevan opened in 2015 with 500 square metres of transparency in a culture built on opacity. Everyone could see what everyone else was doing, who they were meeting with, and what projects were taking shape.Four members who’d never have met otherwise—an architect, a winemaker, a crowdfunding platform—started collaborating on a project to empower rural grape farmers. Instead of just selling grapes to winemakers, these farmers now operate their own tasting rooms on their land.That’s the small story.The big story is what happened when the values inside those glass walls—trust, collaboration, openness—started spilling out onto the streets. When the coworking space became a rehearsal room for the Velvet Revolution of 2018. Not one person died during a peaceful uprising that toppled an authoritarian regime.Sara’s now based in Los Angeles, but she spent years building something that proved a controversial point: community spaces aren’t neutral. They’re either reinforcing the culture around them or quietly teaching a different way.This conversation doesn’t offer inspiration. It offers evidence. Evidence that who you intentionally throw together in a room matters. That transparency can be more powerful than secrecy. That starting with an Excel spreadsheet of 20-30 people is more important than falling in love with a sexy space.Sara talks about trauma—the 1915 genocide that created the Armenian diaspora, the 2020 war with Azerbaijan that turned their coworking space into a humanitarian centre during COVID. She talks about watching members fight on the front lines whilst the space tried to help displaced families.And she talks about what happens when you refuse to accept that you’re powerless. When you reject the idea that there’s much difference between people “on the ground” and people in “halls of power.”This episode is for coworking operators who feel overwhelmed by political division and global chaos. For community builders, wondering if their small space actually matters. For anyone who’s ever thought, “I’m just one person—what can I really do?”You’ll leave understanding why the cocktail party matters more than the furniture. Why boring Excel spreadsheets beat beautiful architecture. And why getting involved in what makes you come alive isn’t optional—it’s essential for your soul.Timeline Highlights* [01:13] “I’m known as someone very involved and heavily invested in building the future Republic of Armenia”* [02:32] Sara’s decision to move to Armenia in 2012: “I didn’t even think about it as easy or hard. I thought about it, and I thought, This is really interesting. I want to be part of it”* [03:27] Why Impact Hub Yerevan wasn’t just a coworking space: “The idea was really more about bringing the best and brightest and people who cared about social change in Armenia under one roof to see what we could do”* [06:56] Building with glass walls as a philosophical statement: “You derive your power from secrecy in a lot of ways. We were turning that idea upside down”* [07:17] The grape farmer collaboration story: four members creating rural tasting rooms instead of just selling grapes* [13:20] The Velvet Revolution of 2018: “Not one person died during that revolution. It was very much a peaceful revolution”* [15:02] The moment the country caught up to the Hub: “All of a sudden, the country outside of the walls of Impact Hub started to espouse the same values as what we had been talking about inside”* [18:39] Sara’s advice on feeling powerless: “I don’t think that we have much less power. In terms of being a human, we are all the same beings, and you have to get involved”* [20:53] The intentional curation approach: “It was, I’m going to reach out to this person because I see that they’re doing something cool. They need to be part of our community”* [23:09] The crucial mistake to avoid: “I would caution people not to fall in love with spaces... start very much with the people”* [24:37] Three Impact Hubs now operating across Armenia: Yerevan, Gyumri, and SyunikWhy Secrecy Loses to CollaborationSara describes post-Soviet Armenia as a place where power came from what you kept hidden. Behind closed doors. Need-to-know basis. Information as currency.This wasn’t just workplace culture. It was a survival strategy shaped by decades of authoritarian rule.Impact Hub Yerevan’s glass walls weren’t an aesthetic choice. They were a political statement wrapped in architecture. When everyone can see what everyone else is doing, you’re demonstrating a different kind of power—one built on trust, not control.The shift wasn’t immediate. Members had to learn a new philosophy of working together. Sara says when people signed up to work from this space, “in a way, they were signing up to a new philosophy of working together.”Slowly, people started collaborating. Starting projects. Sharing resources. The winemaker noticed the architect. The crowdfunding platform connected with both. And suddenly, rural grape farmers weren’t just suppliers—they were hosts, entrepreneurs, storytellers on their own land.This is what happens when you design space intentionally against the dominant culture. You create a small rehearsal room for a different way of being.The Cocktail Party Strategy Nobody TeachesSara uses a metaphor that should be taught in every coworking space training programme: throwing an elaborate cocktail party.You want the person dancing on the table with a lampshade on their head. You also wish to be the quiet person in the corner building the next big thing. You’re making soup with different spices. You’re curating energy, not just renting desks.She describes making lists. Reaching out to people doing interesting things. Constantly inviting them to the party.This isn’t community management. It’s deliberate cultural architecture.Bernie recognises it immediately—he has a reputation for throwing people together and then leaving them to find their connection points. But he adds something crucial: loud people like him can put off quieter people, so you have to make a point of getting them in.The best coworking spaces understand this. They’re not waiting for the right people to show up. They’re hunting them down, one Excel spreadsheet row at a time.When Your Space Becomes a Humanitarian Centre2020 was meant to be about COVID. For Armenia, it became a matter of war.Azerbaijan attacked the ethnic Armenian population of Nagorno-Karabakh for 44 days. Sara notes that “the world was so much more concerned with dealing with COVID, that this war happened really in some ways outside of the international attention.” The ethnic Armenian population was expelled. The land is now under Azerbaijani control.Impact Hub Yerevan transformed overnight. Sara describes it: “We turned from a coworking space in a lot of ways into almost a humanitarian centre, trying to help not just our boys on the front lines fighting this war, but at the same time, all of the people who were displaced from their homes during the war.”Sara doesn’t dwell on this in the conversation—she could go on and on, she says, but she stops. You can hear the weight of it, though. The trauma that sits underneath community building in places where history isn’t theoretical.This is the context that makes glass walls radical. This is why collaboration as a form of power matters. This is the soil where Impact Hub grew.Western coworking operators often discuss “making an impact” without understanding the actual cost of such an impact in places experiencing active conflict and displacement.The Velvet Revolution: When Inside Became Outside* Armenia was sliding toward full authoritarianism. Following the Belarus path. Satellite state of Russia.The Armenian people said no.Streets filled with protesters. The former regime resigned. A new government was formed. Zero deaths. The Velvet Revolution.Sara was running Impact Hub at the time. Many of the people on the streets were Hub members. Including her.Then came the pivot: she left the Hub, passed the executive director role to her director of programmes, and joined the new government. She transitioned from running a space that promoted these values to helping build a government that embodied them.This is the moment she describes carefully: “All of a sudden, the country outside of the walls of Impact Hub started to espouse the same values as what we had been talking about inside the walls.”Not inspiration. Vindication.The rehearsal became the performance. The small room became the whole country. The glass walls became the new architecture of power.The Boring Excel Spreadsheet TruthHere’s Sara’s most practical advice, delivered with the caution of someone who’s seen coworking spaces fail by starting wrong:Don’t fall in love with the space.Cofounders are often drawn to the stunning light, beautiful windows, and intriguing architecture. They put down deposits before they know who’ll actually show up.Start with 20-30 names in a boring Excel spreadsheet. People you can actually imagine working in this space. Before doing anything else. Before architecture. Before deposits.Impact Hub Yerevan had an incredible architect. But they started with the people.This feels unglamorous. It doesn’t photograph well for Instagram. It won’t win design awards.But it’s the difference between a coworking space and a rehearsal room for r

“These spaces are where increasingly, they’re critical civic infrastructure. They’re what I think of as civic catalysts, and they are where people meet one another, with a bit of engagement and a bit of facilitation, where people can be encouraged to face into the challenges facing their local communities.”Jon Alexander doesn’t perform when he talks. There’s nothing shiny about the man behind Citizens. But he names things most of us feel but can’t quite articulate. Like how the Labour government is collapsing. Like how Reform might win the next election. Like how coworking spaces might be the only thing standing between communities and complete civic breakdown.When Jon says he wants to be known for “figuring out what to do with politics before it all falls apart,” there’s an honest urgency that cuts through conference small talk and LinkedIn optimism. This isn’t another conversation about community-washing or flexible workspace trends. This is about coworking as political infrastructure – and whether operators have the nerve to admit it.Jon spent years watching the consumer story collapse – the idea that people are fundamentally motivated by self-interest, that democracy is just choosing between fixed options. He’s seen what fills the vacuum: strongman leaders and authoritarian logic. Jon argues that the only antidote is stepping into what he calls the citizen story – the idea that all of us are smarter than any of us.coworking spaces, Jon says, are where this happens. Not through manifestos or policy papers, but through the messy, essential work of getting neighbours to actually meet each other. Of hosting events that celebrate what’s working before diving into what’s broken. Of creating the conditions where people discover they can face challenges together instead of waiting for someone else to fix them.Bernie’s Write Club story proves Jon’s point. Starting with four people writing, growing to six, then twenty people sitting on floors because they had nowhere else to talk about their craft. A guy showed up with a keyboard thinking it was about music writing until they explained it was writing club. You don’t need the Foo Fighters. You need love of place and the courage to start with what’s strong, not what’s wrong.For coworking operators feeling the weight of empty desks and rising rents, this conversation offers something more sustaining than growth hacks or pivot strategies. It offers a reason to stay in the fight that has nothing to do with occupancy rates and everything to do with democracy itself.⏱ Timeline Highlights[01:51] “A great book called Citizens. What would you like to be known for now?”[02:00] Jon’s new mission: “Figuring out what to do with politics before it all falls apart”[02:31] “It really matters to do what you’re doing and actually to see yourselves as political actors”[04:09] The collapse framework: consumer story to subject story, with citizen story as the only antidote[05:28] “coworking spaces are spaces for that to happen. Step up and acknowledge that.”[06:51] Bernie on the London coworking Assembly response: “That’s the language I need”[07:35] The ACTionism story: from climate anxiety to community action through outdoor retail transformation[10:20] The celebration principle: “Start with what’s strong, not with what’s wrong”[11:05] Cormac Russell’s framework: “Use what’s strong to fix what’s wrong”[12:17] Bernie’s Write Club example: four people, then six, then twenty sitting on floors[14:01] The drama triangle applied to politics: perpetrators, rescuers, victims[17:59] “This work really matters, really matters” – Jon’s core message to operators[19:22] The three principles: Purpose, Platform, Prototype vs the marketing 4Ps[23:05] Bernie on spotting energy: “You find the people” through genuine interests[25:40] Adrienne Maree Brown’s wisdom: “Inch-wide, mile-deep change that schisms the existing paradigm”The We Work Delusion Is DeadJon doesn’t mention We Work by name, but his framework demolishes everything they represented. The old 4Ps of marketing – product, price, promotion, placement – trap you in thinking of people as consumers. You offer services, they consume them. You position yourself in the market, they choose you or don’t.coworking spaces still caught in this thinking ask the wrong questions: What do we offer? How do we position ourselves? What’s our pricing strategy? Jon’s alternative cuts deeper: What are we really trying to do here? What’s so big that we need people to help us do it rather than us doing it for them?The difference isn’t semantic. One approach creates customers; the other creates citizens. One fills desks; the other builds democracy. Bernie’s observation about spaces wanting to “be like We Work” – like wanting to be the Hilton or TGI Friday’s – misses what makes independent spaces powerful: their rootedness, their refusal to be replicated anywhere else.Bernie mentions a space in Camden that had one of three gigantic 3D printers available in London at that time. Instead of leveraging that uniqueness, they wanted to imitate We Work’s failed model. Jon’s framework would ask: How do we use this incredible resource to help Camden flourish? How do we make it meaningful for makers and inventors to participate in that vision?coworking as Political InfrastructurePolitics, for Jon, isn’t about party affiliation or policy positions. It’s about power – who has it, who doesn’t, and how communities organise themselves to face challenges together. coworking spaces are political whether operators recognise it or not. The question is whether they’ll be conscious about it.The drama triangle Jon describes – perpetrators (councils, politicians), rescuers (interventionist organisations), victims (citizens waiting for solutions) – explains why community initiatives fail. Everyone stays trapped in blame cycles instead of stepping into agency. Victims need to become creators. Perpetrators need to become challengers who work alongside rather than imposing solutions. Rescuers need to become supporters rather than interveners.coworking spaces can break this pattern by creating conditions for citizens to move from victim to creator mindset. Not through workshops on civic engagement, but through the practical experience of organising something they care about. Bernie’s Write Club didn’t start as a political act – it was writers wanting to talk about writing. But when twenty people are sitting on floors because they’ve found community around shared passion, that’s civic muscle being built.Jon’s celebration-first approach isn’t naive optimism. Starting with “What do we love about Peckham?” creates different energy than starting with “What’s wrong with our neighbourhood?” Love builds the container strong enough to hold difficult conversations about challenges. Problems divide; shared appreciation unites.From Consumer to Citizen: The Transformation FrameworkThe consumer story – people as self-interested choosers between fixed options – shaped everything from politics to business models. Consumer democracy meant voters choosing between pre-set candidates based on personal benefit. Consumer economics meant businesses competing for individual purchases. Consumer coworking meant members paying for services they consumed.Jon traces how this story is collapsing everywhere. Brexit wasn’t rational consumer choice; it was emotional rejection of the entire system. Trump’s appeal wasn’t policy comparison; it was promise of a strong leader who’d handle everything. The rise of authoritarian populism represents return to the subject story – citizens as subjects of powerful leaders rather than agents of change.The citizen story offers different logic: collective intelligence, shared agency, collaborative problem-solving. In coworking terms, it’s the difference between providing services and creating platforms for participation.Bernie’s instinct about not needing “a big hook to get people in” connects to Jon’s framework. The right hook isn’t a gimmick; it’s genuine invitation to participate in something meaningful.The Three Ps: Purpose, Platform, PrototypeJon’s alternative to the marketing 4Ps restructures how coworking spaces think about themselves. Purpose asks: What are we really trying to do that’s so important we need community help? Platform asks: What structures make participation meaningful and joyful? Prototype asks: How do we spot and feed existing energy?Purpose for most spaces connects to place. They’re not just providing workspace; they’re helping Camden become more creative, or supporting young entrepreneurs in Birmingham, or keeping artists in affordable neighbourhoods. But naming that purpose as a question – How can we work together to make this place flourish? – invites participation instead of consumption.Platform thinking shifts from programming events to creating structures where others can initiate. Instead of Bernie organising everything, Write Club created space for whoever had energy for keyboard writing or poetry readings or journalism discussions. The platform enabled emergence rather than controlling it.Prototype recognises that transformation happens through small experiments, not grand plans. You can’t necessarily become a full civic catalyst overnight. But you can spot when someone has energy for Sicilian cupcake events and feed that passion. Energy is the seed; community attention is the soil; shared space is the greenhouse.The Economics of Inch-Wide, Mile-Deep ChangeAdrienne Maree Brown’s framework – “inch-wide, mile-deep change that schisms the existing paradigm” – speaks directly to coworking economics. Mile-wide, inch-deep approaches try to serve everyone and transform nothing. They chase scale over impact, quantity over quality.Inch-wide, mile-deep means committing fully to your specific place, demographic, or mission. That Camden space with the 3D printer could have gone mile-deep on maker culture, on manufacturing innovation, on creative technology. Instead of comp

"I'm the poster child for FLOC, because since I've joined, I've completely expanded my network. I've made so many connections."Caroline Van den Eynde doesn't fit the typical profile of a coworking founder. She stumbled into the industry three and a half years ago when a recruiter called about a marketing role at IQ Offices — and she'd never heard of coworking.Now she's the Director of Sales and Marketing for IQ's eight Canadian locations and the Marketing Director for FLOC (Future Leaders of Coworking), a peer-led community that fills a gap most people in the industry didn't realise existed.The gap? Peer connections. Real ones.While CEOs and founders network over dinner at conferences, everyone else — including community managers, marketing directors, and operations staff — often finds themselves without peers to learn from. Caroline discovered this firsthand when she realised most of her coworking connections came through her CEO Caine Wilma's introductions to other CEOs."I was lacking those relationships with other people in the industry who are at my level," she explains. "People who I could talk to about the day-to-day things that were happening and the challenges."Enter FLOC, launched by Sam Shay to create exactly those peer-to-peer connections. Just under six months in as Marketing Director, Caroline has become living proof of what happens when you build genuine community in the coworking world. Double the expected turnout at their GCUC Boston "FLOCtail." Members are getting vulnerable about mistakes and learnings. Real knowledge sharing that saves people from repeating each other's errors.But FLOC isn't just about networking. They're leading a campaign that reveals how invisible the coworking industry remains: getting LinkedIn to recognise "coworking" as an official industry category. Currently, you can filter for various niche industries in LinkedIn's dropdown menu, but not for coworking.Four hundred signatures and counting on their change.org petition. They're pushing for a thousand before taking it to LinkedIn.Caroline's journey from psychology graduate to coworking champion also reveals something about how this industry shapes careers. Her psychology background prepared her for marketing in ways business school might not have — understanding people, behaviour, and what drives genuine connection.Now at IQ Offices, she's leading the kind of strategic focus the industry needs more of. Through data analysis, they've discovered 84% of their revenue comes from enterprise clients, so they're leaning into that niche instead of trying to serve everyone."Future state, I think we're going to see spaces no longer focus on fast Wi-Fi and good coffee. Everybody has that," Caroline observes. "We're at that point in the industry where that's a given."This conversation captures someone who makes things happen — Caroline's self-described superpower — while building the infrastructure for others to do the same.Timeline Highlights[01:20] Caroline's definition: "I'm known as someone who makes things happen"[02:20] "I will do anything to get to the end... I get a lot of satisfaction from completing something"[06:47] The leap from Paris to Canada: "I pulled the plug and I was like, I'm moving to Canada, even though I've never been there"[08:59] Stumbling into coworking: "I met a recruiter... to be honest with you, at that point, I had no idea what coworking was"[10:31] The peer connection problem: "I was lacking those relationships with other people in the industry who are at my level"[13:34] FLOC's impact: "We had double the amount of people show up... It's so nice to have a place to come to make those face-to-face connections"[16:01] "There's just so much potential. There are thousands of people across North America, across the UK, and everywhere else that work in coworking"[20:12] The education challenge: "There's still a lot of misconception about what coworking really is"[22:42] Changing how she explains coworking: "I completely changed my thought process... now I actually take the time to explain it"[25:29] The enterprise realisation: "We had two companies, one leaving, one going, but for the exact same reason"[28:25] The LinkedIn campaign: "We just hit 400 signatures... we're pushing to get that to a thousand"[30:33] Meeting in person: "A few of us will be at GCUC London in October"When the Founders Get Dinner and Everyone Else Gets NothingHere's the thing about coworking conferences: CEOs and founders eat well together. They network over dinner, share war stories, and make deals.Community managers queue for coffee alone. Caroline lived this for three years.Every industry connection came through her CEO, who introduced her to another CEO. Meanwhile, she's running day-to-day operations, solving real problems, with no one at her level to learn from.Then FLOC happened. Those monthly "Cherp and Chat" calls became something nobody expected—people actually told the truth. About mistakes. About what doesn't work. About the messy reality behind the LinkedIn posts.80% of FLOC members say peer connections matter most. Not the workshops or the resources—the conversations with someone who gets it.The "FLOCtail" at GCUC Boston proved the point. They expected maybe twenty people. Forty showed up. All hungry for the same thing: someone else dealing with the same daily chaos.Numbers Don't LieCaroline ran the data at IQ Offices. 84% of revenue comes from enterprise clients.So they stopped trying to please everyone.The moment that crystallised it: the same day, one medium-sized business left due to cost-cutting. One enterprise client joined because of cost-cutting. Same reason, different worlds, different value propositions.Most coworking spaces still believe they need to cater to everyone. Startups, freelancers, corporates, remote workers, creatives—the lot. Caroline's team proved otherwise.Enterprise clients want something specific. They require different tours, proposals, and messaging. So IQ leaned in hard."Future state, I think we're going to see spaces no longer focus on fast Wi-Fi and good coffee. Everybody has that," Caroline says. "We're at that point in the industry where that's a given."The businesses that survive will be the ones that people can easily distinguish.The Invisible IndustryFLOC's petition sits at 400 signatures. Target: 1,000.The ask? Get LinkedIn to add "coworking" to their industry dropdown menu.Right now, you can filter for dozens of niche industries. Coworking isn't one of them. For an industry employing thousands across every major city, that's a problem.Not because of the dropdown itself—because of what it represents. Career paths people can't name. Job searches that don't work. Professional identities built around an industry that doesn't officially exist.Caroline changed how she explains her work. Used to be: "Oh, do you know WeWork? Well, I work for a competitor." Now she takes time to actually explain what coworking is."To my surprise, once you actually do that, a lot of people get it," she says. "Then you start getting responses like, 'Oh yes, I'm sure after COVID, that's become really popular.'"The shift from defensive to educational. From apologising for the industry to explaining why it matters.From Psychology to People-Centred MarketingCaroline's background in psychology — chosen as a stepping stone to marketing when business school was too expensive as an international student — reveals something about non-traditional paths into coworking.Psychology provided her with tools for understanding behaviour, motivation, and what drives genuine connection. Skills that translate directly to community building, member engagement, and strategic positioning.Her self-awareness about being someone who "makes things happen", combined with strategic thinking, creates a profile the industry needs more of: operators who can execute while building systems for others to succeed.The intentionality she describes — never doing anything just for the sake of doing it, always understanding the why — reflects the kind of thoughtful approach that builds sustainable community infrastructure.The Vulnerability FactorOne of the most striking elements of Caroline's FLOC experience is how naturally vulnerability emerged in their community calls. She expected they might need to encourage people to share mistakes and learnings, but instead found members immediately willing to be honest about challenges.This speaks to something deeper about the coworking community's readiness for authentic connection. When the infrastructure exists — such as FLOC's monthly "Cherp and Chat" calls — people are eager to move beyond surface-level professional interactions.The willingness to share mistakes becomes a resource for the entire community. Knowledge transfer that prevents others from repeating the same errors. The kind of collective learning that accelerates individual and industry growth.Future-Proofing Through FocusCaroline's prediction about the industry's future resonates: spaces will stop competing on Wi-Fi and coffee (table stakes) and start differentiating through their specific value propositions and target audiences.The enterprise focus at IQ Offices represents this kind of strategic clarity. Understanding that enterprise clients need different solutions than startups, and leaning into serving that need exceptionally well, rather than trying to serve everyone adequately.This kind of niche focus — whether it's enterprise clients, creative communities, or local economic development — represents the industry's evolution from generic "coworking" to specific problem-solving for specific communities.Links & ResourcesCaroline's Work* IQ Offices: Canadian coworking with eight locations* FLOC (Future Leaders of Coworking)* FLOC LinkedIn page* Caroline Van den Eynde LinkedInThe LinkedIn Campaign* Change.org petition: Get LinkedIn to recognise coworking as an official industry categoryEvents & Community* GCUC London: October conference, whe

Episode Summary“I'm teaching them how to use ChatGPT to write a letter to their landlord to tell them off about the mould in the corner of their child's bedroom.”That single sentence from Williamz Omope cuts through the noise of the entire tech and coworking industry. This isn't about AI for productivity hacks or scaling a startup. This is about using tools to restore dignity and agency to people the system has forgotten. With over 18 years in the trenches of community work in North London, Williamz is the founder of WO Consultancy, a Community Interest Company that runs job clubs with a radical principle. There are no rules for who gets help.This conversation is a necessary dose of reality for any coworking operator who uses the word "community." Williamz draws a sharp, uncomfortable line between his job club—hosted at SPACE4 in Finsbury Park—and the official, bureaucratic support of a Jobcentre. One is a system of gatekeeping, where you must prove your need and fit into a box to receive help. The other is a place of unconditional support, where your right to assistance is based on you showing up.We get into the messy, human reality of this work. It’s a constant, uphill battle against a system Williamz calls "the powers that be," a system that expects people to fail. He discusses the "tough love" required—inspired by his own mentors—to foster confidence, not dependency. This isn't about solving people's problems for them; it's about giving them the tools and the safe space to solve them for themselves.For any coworking space owner feeling disconnected from the neighbourhood outside their door, this episode is a blueprint. It's a story about what happens when a place designed for business becomes a place for all people, and it offers a robust, practical model for how your space can become a vital piece of civic infrastructure, one person at a time.Timeline Highlights“I want to be known for being disruptive in all the things that I do.” Why Williamz hates terms like "hard to reach": "I don't like using these terms because I just call it community." The reality of digital inclusion: using ChatGPT to write a letter to a landlord about mould in a child's bedroom. The Personal Motivation: How a Tough French Teacher and a Persistent PE Teacher Shaped His Mission. The stark reality of the system: "The powers that be... they expect you to fall to the wayside." The first signs of real community: when the regulars start telling you off for not being there. How to Stay Motivated in an Uphill Battle: Taking Stock of How Far You've Come. The crucial difference between the Job Club and the Jobcentre: "Our support is ongoing." The radical, unconventional core principle: "There's no eligibility criteria." The top three needs: A new CV, basic computer skills, and the confidence to use them. The tough love approach: "I want you to sink or swim, but we're going to be the life raft right there." The "easy win" for coworking spaces: genuinely engaging the wider community to bridge the gap.Thematic Breakdown Sections"You Don't Have to Prove Anything"The most disruptive idea in this entire conversation is also the simplest. The Finsbury Park Job Club has no eligibility criteria. In a world of means-testing, gatekeeping, and bureaucratic hurdles, this is a radical act. Williamz contrasts his model directly with the Jobcentre, where support is conditional. To receive help from the state, you must meet a specific profile: being unemployed for six months, being a refugee, or being over 50. You must perform your need. At Williamz's job club, you have to walk through the door.This isn't just a procedural difference; it's a fundamental shift in the power dynamic. It treats people with inherent dignity. It removes the shame and stress of having to justify your existence to "the powers that be." By offering unconditional support, the job club becomes a safe space where people can be vulnerable enough to ask for help, whether it's changing an email on a CV or building one from scratch after a lifetime of work. It’s a tangible expression of trust in a system that, by default, is deeply distrustful.For coworking operators, this is a profound challenge. What are the unwritten eligibility criteria for your community? Who feels welcome, and who feels excluded? Williamz's model proves that the most powerful way to build community is to remove the barriers to entry, offering help with no catch.The Powers That Be (And Why They Don't Care)Williamz refers to "the powers that be" throughout the conversation. It’s his shorthand for the faceless, impersonal system that dictates the rules but offers no real support for those who can't follow them. This system "expects you to fall by the wayside." It builds a website for GP appointments or a portal for benefits applications and assumes everyone has the skills, confidence, and equipment to use it. There is no plan for those who don't.This is the sharp end of digital exclusion. It’s not a theoretical problem; it’s a daily reality that locks people out of essential services, from healthcare to housing. The job club acts as a human interface to this cold, digital bureaucracy. Williamz isn’t just teaching people how to click a link; he's translating the hostile language of the system and equipping them to navigate it.This connects directly to the "unequal economy" described in the guest research. The system isn't broken; for a specific segment, it's working exactly as designed. It efficiently filters out those who cannot keep up. The work Williamz does is a form of resistance, creating a lifeline for those the system would otherwise discard.Tough Love is a Form of RespectWilliamz's approach isn't about coddling people; he describes it as "tough love." He wants you to "sink or swim," but promises to "be the life raft right there." This philosophy was forged by his own mentors—a French teacher who encouraged him to pursue African Studies, and a PE teacher who insisted he attend training—who saw his potential and refused to let him fail. He understands that real support isn't about doing things for someone; it's about creating the conditions for them to learn to do it themselves.This is a critical distinction between charity and empowerment. By refusing to let attendees feel stupid, but still insisting they learn the skill, he is showing them the ultimate respect. He is telling them, "I believe you are capable of this." For individuals whose confidence has been eroded by unemployment or a daunting, unfamiliar digital world, this belief is often the most important service he provides. It’s the foundation upon which skills like CV writing and online job applications are built.From a Space in a Library to a Place of BelongingBernie asks Williamz to describe the community, and the answer is beautifully tangible. It’s when regulars have a rapport with specific volunteers. It's when attendees start providing peer-to-peer support to each other. It’s when they tell him off for not showing up one week because they were waiting for him. This is what it looks like when a transactional space becomes a relational place.This transformation is crucial. The job club, hosted in a coworking space like SPACE4, becomes a piece of civic infrastructure where belonging is felt, not just talked about. As the guest research highlights, this is the core of the Coworking Citizenship Playbook: "belonging is a precondition to participation." You cannot expect someone to participate, to feel agency, if they first don't feel like they belong somewhere.Williamz is creating that feeling every Friday. It’s not a line item on a funding application, but it is the most valuable outcome of his work. He’s building the social fabric that allows people to regain their footing and, from there, re-engage with the wider world.The Real Meaning of Digital InclusionThe story of teaching a mother to use ChatGPT to complain about mould is the perfect microcosm of Williamz's entire philosophy. Most digital inclusion initiatives stop at teaching basic IT skills—how to open a browser, how to send an email. Williamz goes a vital step further. He's not just teaching the how; he's teaching the why. He's connecting the tool directly to a point of pain in someone's life.This is the difference between abstract knowledge and applied power. The mother doesn't need to know the theory behind large language models. She needs to solve a dangerous and undignified problem for her family. By framing technology as a weapon for self-advocacy, Williamz demystifies it and makes it immediately relevant. It's not about being "tech-savvy"; it's about getting justice.This redefines what digital inclusion should be about. It’s not about ensuring everyone can consume digital services. It’s about ensuring everyone has the tools and confidence to advocate for themselves and hold power to account. It’s about turning digital literacy into an instrument of agency.The "Easy Win" Most Coworking Spaces Are MissingRight at the end of the conversation, Williamz offers the most direct piece of advice for coworking operators. He points out that many local residents would never think to walk into a space like SPACE4 unless there was a specific, accessible reason to do so—like the Job Club. The space can feel intimidating or irrelevant to those who aren't in the tech or startup world.The "easy win" is to create genuine entry points for the wider community. It’s about having "things that the wider community feel comfortable going to and attending." By hosting a job club, the coworking space becomes a bridge. It brings in a captive audience of local residents who can then be gently introduced to the other courses, workshops, and opportunities the space offers.This isn't about cynical marketing; it's about fulfilling the promise of being a community hub. It requires operators to look beyond their existing members and ask: who are we not serving? How can we open our doors in a way that feels genuinely welco

Episode Summary"I only want to work with people that I like... people who don't affect my nervous system. Some people will laugh and go, What? That's crazy. But I suppose what I'm really saying is I like to work with people who don't affect my nervous system, and that's really important."This isn't community-building advice. This is a revolutionary business strategy.Ali Kakande sits across from Bernie, explaining how she went from "sat on my bed writing funding applications on a piece of paper and phoning my Auntie, going, 'Have I got this budget right?'" to running Carib Eats—a community infrastructure project with a 95% return rate that people trust with keys to their buildings.The transformation didn't happen through business courses or growth hacking. It happened because Ali figured out how to make a living by being genuinely herself."I can sit next to a stranger on the bus, and before you know it, they're telling me they had heart surgery two years ago," she explains. That's not a community-building technique—that's a superpower that became a sustainable business model.Five years ago, Carib Eats started as a COVID-19 crisis response. Today, it's a permanent civic infrastructure operating across London through partnerships with Urban MBA, Black Cultural Centre in Islington, and multiple Hackney locations. The model is deceptively simple: food, connection, and being true to yourself.But the real story isn't about community building. It's about economic agency through an authentic relationship. Ali demonstrates something coworking operators desperately need to understand: you can build a sustainable business by serving people genuinely, without compromising who you are or affecting your nervous system.This conversation reveals why most community programming fails, how to design spaces where everyone belongs, and why your gut reaction to potential partners might be your best business advisor.You'll leave understanding that the 95% return rate isn't just a community metric—it's proof that being yourself is the most sustainable business strategy available.⏱ Timeline Highlights[01:20] "I want to be known for connection and showing up as yourself. Not everybody can do that, unfortunately."[02:28] The Urban MBA partnership origin: "On paper, you think, Oh, how's a 70-year-old lady from Grenada going to relate to being in this tech space? Very well, actually."[04:45] The digital divide revelation: "I truly believe that our communities are being left behind. I had an assumption that everybody uses AI, but that's not the case."[06:07] The Arsenal tour breakthrough: "She was able to be at that tour because of how much time AI was giving her back."[08:17] From crisis to infrastructure: "We weren't a business. It wasn't anything. It was just a response to a call from the community about hunger."[11:41] The full commitment moment: "There's got to come a point where you've got to have both feet in. I made that decision. It was really scary."[13:02] The trust metric: "Carib Eats is trusted to get the keys. When somebody trusts you with keys and you've not burnt the place down, then somebody else goes, Oh, yeah, we can trust them."[15:32] The connection superpower: "I can sit next to a stranger on the bus, and before you know it, they're telling me they had heart surgery two years ago. That's my world."[18:20] The northern expansion call: "I want to do this north, so anybody's listening. I'm from Bolton or any surrounding area."[19:45] The question everyone asks: "How do I get people to come to my thing?"[26:27] The 95% return rate reveals: "I'm really proud to be able to say that we've got a 95% return rate. Most people come back."[29:25] The nervous system business strategy: "I only want to work with people that I like... people who don't affect my nervous system."The Nervous System Business ModelThe moment that stops the conversation happens when Ali reveals her business philosophy: "I only want to work with people that I like." Bernie immediately recognises this isn't naive idealism—it's a sophisticated business strategy."People who don't affect my nervous system," Ali clarifies. "If I see their name come up on my phone and my gut is going off, that's a sign for me. I've had to say no to some opportunities. I'm glad I've done that because it would have affected my sanity."This challenges everything coworking operators are told about growth and opportunity. Ali demonstrates that sustainable business comes from protecting your energy, not maximising your options. The 95% return rate isn't just community success—it's proof that nervous system management creates better business outcomes than traditional networking.For coworking spaces struggling with difficult members or toxic partnerships, Ali's approach offers a different framework: your gut reaction might be your best business advisor.From Crisis Response to Economic AgencyThe real transformation story isn't about community building—it's about economic independence. Ali moved from "working five days, then working four days, then working three days, then working two days for someone else" to becoming what Bernie calls "an independent economic agent."The transition happened through a relationship, not a strategy. "Very rarely do people come and knock on my door," Ali explains. She finds opportunities through newsletters, applies for residencies, proves the model works, and earns trust. "The proof is in the pudding."But the foundation is a genuine connection. The 95% return rate exists because people feel seen, not served. The partnerships work because Ali only collaborates with people who don't affect her nervous system. The business sustains because it's built on an authentic relationship, not a transactional exchange.This offers a different model for coworking operators: economic sustainability through genuine service, not growth hacking through manufactured community.The Residency RevolutionAli's expansion strategy reveals something coworking spaces should pay attention to: the residency model. Instead of building permanent locations, Carib Eats partners with existing spaces—Urban MBA, Black Cultural Centre, and various Hackney locations."What's really interesting is that Carib Eats is trusted to get the keys," Ali explains. The trust comes from consistent delivery, not marketing promises. "When somebody trusts you with keys and they can see what you've done and you've not burnt the place down, then somebody else goes, Oh, yeah, we can trust them."Bernie's real-time realisation during the conversation captures the opportunity: "What you did in Urban MBA, where you come and cook and people get a lesson there, it's a very rock solid way of connecting with people in the local community that you would not otherwise have connected with."For coworking operators, this suggests a different approach to community engagement. Instead of hoping local community members will become members, invite community organisations to use your space for programming that serves people who would never otherwise enter.The Connection Superpower as Business Asset"I can sit next to a stranger on the bus, and before you know it, they're telling me they had heart surgery two years ago. That's my world. But a lot of people's world, that's not."Ali's connection ability isn't just personality—it's business infrastructure. The 95% return rate exists because people experience genuine interest, not professional networking. The partnerships work because Ali approaches collaboration as a relationship, not a transaction."Give people the opportunity to connect, they will," she explains. "Often, I think people think, What do I have in common with somebody? Initially, you might not see it or think there is, but there is."This challenges how most coworking spaces approach community programming. Events that start with networking or education often fail because they skip the belonging step. Ali's model suggests you need to create safety before asking for engagement.Design for Belonging, Not NetworkingThe most practical insight comes from Ali's space design philosophy. "Everybody can see each other, and where our tables are set up, everybody can see each other. You can be a really quiet character in the Caribbean and benefit from the laughter and the joy and the fun. Or you could be one of those loud characters. But it's how you are greeted."The greeting protocol isn't customer service—it's belonging infrastructure. "When somebody comes through that door, make sure you say hello. Do you want a cup of tea? Take a seat."Ali's 95% return rate proves this works. "Most people come back, and the ones that don't come back, I can normally see they're not going to come back because it's probably not the space for them because it is Carib Eats. That's what we do."For coworking operators, this suggests focusing on consistent welcome protocols over sophisticated community programming. The greeting matters more than the agenda.The Wisdom Exchange ModelOne of Ali's most innovative projects gets mentioned almost in passing: the Wisdom Exchange, bringing young people into conversation with elders for knowledge sharing. "It doesn't matter what the exchange is. It could be anything."This reveals something profound about community programming: the content matters less than the connection. Whether it's AI literacy, cooking skills, or life experience, the real value is in creating conditions for intergenerational relationship building.The model translates directly to coworking contexts. Instead of age-segregated programming (young entrepreneur meetups, senior professional networks), what happens when you intentionally mix generations around shared learning?The Trust Economy in PracticeAli's business model operates in what economists call the trust economy—value created through relationship rather than transaction. The 95% return rate, the keys to buildings, and the word-of-mouth expansion all demonstrate trust as a measurable business as

Episode Summary"You got to be crazy to start a coworking space. Because just as many small businesses, not just in the coworking industry, in all industries, they fail. To start a coworking is to put yourself on the path to failure because it's entrepreneurial journey."Fanny Marcoux knows something about crazy. She's the host of “A very special coworking”, a podcast that has quietly become the most diverse collection of coworking stories on the internet. Thirty-six episodes deep, spanning three continents, featuring everyone from solo community managers to operators running thousands of members across multiple locations.This isn't your typical coworking conversation. Fanny's developed a deceptively simple framework — past, present, future — inspired by Christmas ghosts, of all things.Five questions that reveal the true story behind every space. What emerges isn't the polished startup narrative we're used to hearing. It's the messy, human truth of what it actually takes to build community.Bernie caught up with Fanny to explore what she's learned from cataloguing these stories. The conversation winds through a Serbian town where a tech company saved a failing coworking space, the difference between community and networking (spoiler: it's messier than you think), and why the most interesting coworking stories often come from the least famous operators.There's also the story of Željko from Inspirahub — a tale of failure, persistence, and unexpected partnership that perfectly captures why coworking operators need each other more than they realise. Plus, a frank discussion about why event planning in coworking spaces feels like organising a party where everyone says they'll come and nobody shows up.This is for anyone who's ever wondered if their coworking story matters, felt isolated in their community-building journey, or questioned whether there's space for diverse voices in an industry that sometimes feels dominated by Silicon Valley narratives.You'll leave knowing exactly where to find the coworking community that's been waiting for you all along.⏱ Timeline Highlights[01:19] "What I would love to be known for is... getting it to get more known, more popular, and to share the stories"[03:27] Why the LinkedIn coworking group works: "That's where a lot of conversation is happening about coworking"[05:29] Fanny reveals her Christmas ghosts framework: past, present, future questions inspired by A Christmas Carol[09:58] The Željko story begins: A Serbian coworking space that failed, persisted, and found salvation through local partnership[11:14] "He was thinking about closing it again. Then he had a partnership with a local business, a big company in Serbia"[13:48] "In a smaller town, it really is [a hub] because that's the one place that people can gather to work together"[16:10] "When I started, I expected that coworking was doing a lot of good... But now I know that it's a crazy story as well"[17:47] Bernie's killer question: "When someone says to you, Fanny, I'm thinking of starting a coworking space, what do you want to scream at them?"[19:14] The difference between coworking and shared office: "It's really about gathering people to do deep work, to do some social events. It's really about the community"[21:50] The event planning paradox: "People ask for those [events]. So you're like, okay... but when I organise them, no one's showing up"[24:57] "I want to explore and discover them all. I thought at some point I wanted to interview all the coworking managers or their"[26:35] Fanny considers rebranding to "A Very Crazy coworking" because "it's crazy out there"[29:17] "When you put yourself in their shoes, it's difficult when you start, you don't know where to go, you don't know who to ask"The Crazy Truth About Starting Coworking SpacesFanny doesn't sugar-coat what she's learned from 36 conversations. Starting a coworking space is "putting yourself on the path to failure" — not because the idea is bad, but because entrepreneurship is inherently risky and coworking adds layers of complexity most people don't anticipate.Her advice cuts straight to the bone: "Are you sure? Have you talked to other coworking managers?" It sounds almost dismissive until you realise she's trying to save people from the isolation that kills most spaces. The operators who succeed aren't necessarily the ones with the best business plans. They're the ones who found their tribe early.The Serbian story of Inspirahub illustrates this perfectly. Željko tried the lone wolf approach twice — failed both times. Success only came when he found a partner who understood that supporting the local community wasn't just nice to have, it was essential infrastructure. The company name is Inspira Group, and together they created something that's now thriving five years later in a bigger location.This isn't just about business partnerships. It's about recognising that coworking, especially in smaller towns, becomes genuine civic infrastructure. When you're the only place people can gather to work together, hold events, and cross-pollinate ideas, you're not just running a business. You're stewarding something bigger.The Christmas Ghosts Framework for Better ConversationsFanny's five-question structure sounds simple until you realise how deliberately designed it is. Three questions covering past, present, and future. One open-ended question: "Is there anything else you want to talk about?" One practical closer: "What's the best way to contact you?"The genius is in what she doesn't ask. No credentials recitation. No elevator pitch requests. Just the human story of how someone got here, what they're building now, and where they're headed. The Christmas Carol inspiration gives her a narrative spine that guests can follow naturally.Bernie's approach is more instinctual — he follows curiosity wherever it leads. But there's something to be said for Fanny's structure. When you're talking to operators from different continents, languages, and contexts, having a reliable framework means you can focus on listening instead of thinking about what to ask next.The "anything else" question consistently produces the most interesting content. It's where guests share the thing they came to talk about but weren't sure how to bring up. It's also where the real personality emerges, unguarded and unscripted.Why Event Planning Feels ImpossibleOne of the most relatable moments in this conversation is Fanny describing the coworking event paradox. Members ask for events. You plan events based on their feedback. Nobody shows up. Rinse and repeat until you question everything you know about community building.This isn't a failure of programming. It's a feature of how human connection actually works. People want the option of community more than they want to be obligated to it. They want to know events exist, that there's a place to go if they need it, even if they never actually go.Understanding this changes how you approach event planning. Success isn't measured by attendance. It's measured by the sense of possibility you create. The regular who finally brings their friend to something. The shy member who starts staying for coffee after events end. The spontaneous conversations that happen because people know there's usually something going on.Bernie's story about the English woman in Singapore captures this perfectly — sometimes people come to coworking spaces precisely because they don't want to talk to anyone. That's valid too. The skill is creating spaces where both kinds of people can coexist.Finding the Stories That Don't Get ToldWhat strikes you about Fanny's guest list isn't who's on it — it's who isn't. No parade of unicorn founders or venture-backed franchise operators. Instead: community managers in tiny spaces, first-year operators still figuring things out, people running virtual coworking communities without physical spaces.This diversity isn't accidental. It's strategic. The stories that don't get amplified are often the ones that reveal how coworking actually works in the real world. Not the sanitised case studies designed for conference presentations, but the messy human reality of trying to build something sustainable while keeping your sanity intact.When Bernie talks about wanting more "rest of the world" perspectives, he's identifying the same gap. So much of the coworking conversation is European and North American-centric, but some of the most innovative community building is happening in places that don't get covered by the usual media.Fanny's geographical organisation — Americas, Europe, Asia — acknowledges that context matters. What works in London might not work in a Serbian town. What makes sense in Singapore might be irrelevant in rural Canada. But the underlying human challenges remain surprisingly consistent.The LinkedIn Group That Actually WorksThroughout this conversation, both Bernie and Fanny keep circling back to the LinkedIn coworking group. Not because it's perfect, but because it's functional in a way that many online coworking communities aren't.The difference seems to be that it's a closed group, not the whole internet. People feel safer being honest about their struggles. The conversations feel more like professional development than content marketing. And crucially, several podcast hosts use it to share their episodes, creating a feedback loop of stories and discussions.This is worth studying. Most online communities die because they become either echo chambers or broadcasting platforms. The LinkedIn group works because it maintains enough structure to feel purposeful while staying loose enough to feel human.The conversation about creating a comprehensive resource directory is interesting but tricky. Everyone agrees it would be useful. The challenge is that resource directories require maintenance, and maintenance requires sustained motivation. The projects that tend to work are the ones where the maintenance is intrinsically rewarding for the

Episode Summary"They use weapons of mass destruction, division, and distraction. Be the antidote, be a weapon of mass creation."Samia Tossio calls herself a "playful creative activist," but there's nothing playful about watching 59 family members killed in Gaza whilst living in suburban Sutton. What emerges from that brutal reality is something extraordinary: a community artist who transforms grief into solidarity, silk into resistance, and a local coworking space into a sanctuary for the conversations everyone else is too afraid to have.This isn't a conversation about Palestine that happens to mention coworking. It's a conversation about what happens when community spaces choose courage over comfort, when they recognise their role as civic infrastructure rather than just desk rental. Samia met Vibushan and Paul from Oru Space when their venue was still a building site. By June 2024, when she walked in carrying silk Palestine protest banners, their first response wasn't hesitation—it was "How can we help?"What followed was £12,000 raised in one evening for a water well in North Gaza. Not through corporate sponsorship or grant applications, but through community, conversation, and the radical act of showing up for each other's humanity.Bernie connected with Samia during Refugee Week, drawn by what Oru Space represents: the first coworking space he'd found in London willing to create space for Gaza solidarity work. In a city with over a thousand coworking spaces, that statistic should make every community builder pause.Samia's Brutiful Tales project—co-creating massive silk panels with communities across Palestine and the UK—embodies everything coworking claims to be about: collaboration, creativity, and connection across difference. Her recent trip to Palestine in early 2025 brought back not just stories but a responsibility to amplify Palestinian voices through art that refuses to be ignored.The conversation moves between the intensely personal—Samia's grandfather's renowned jewellery and watch repair shop was bombed in the 1930s, her cousin's life in Jerusalem, the weight of inherited displacement—and the urgently practical: how community spaces can choose to be part of healing rather than hiding from the world's pain.This episode is for anyone who believes coworking can be more than productivity theatre. It's for space operators wondering how to create a genuine community rather than just efficient networks. It's for anyone who's ever felt the gap between their values and their venue, between what they say they stand for and what they actually make space for.Timeline Highlights[01:39] "What are you known for and what would you like to be known for?" – Bernie's opening question reveals Samia's evolution into creative activism[03:25] The moment that changed everything: "How is everything going?" Vibushan asked, and Samia shared that 59 family members had been killed since October 7th.[05:08] "Right, let's help you. How can we help?" – Vibushan's immediate response, offering free use of Oru Space for fundraising[06:33] "How can we do more?" – Vibushan's commitment to amplification beyond the initial £6,000 raised[08:02] "I was there this year" – Samia's revelation about visiting Palestine in February/March 2025[08:22] "One word: Brutiful. Both brutal but so beautiful" – How a friend's question birthed the name for Samia's project[13:54] The privilege and pain of movement: "Because I'm a grandchild of the Nakba"[15:46] "My dad never spoke in anger or hatred" – The generational wisdom that shapes Samia's approach[17:02] "Resolve the problem in Palestine and watch many of the world's problems disappear" – Her father's prophetic words[22:14] "Choose wisely. It's really awful to be able... The energy that we have to go through"[23:22] "They use weapons of mass destruction, division, and distraction. Be the antidote, be a weapon of mass creation"[26:15] The miraculous creative flow: separation wall panels painted like a xylophone "to make them brutiful"[29:03] The exhaustion of creation: "I actually needed to just stop looking at what was going on and get my energy back"The Politics of PresenceWhat strikes you first about Oru Space isn't their furniture or their WiFi. It's their willingness to hold space for the conversations that matter most. When Samia walked in carrying Palestine protest banners, Vibushan didn't ask her to check her politics at the door. He asked how he could help.This isn't performative allyship or virtue signalling. It's what happens when community builders understand their role as civic infrastructure. Vibushan himself is a first-generation Sri Lankan Tamil refugee—he knows what it means to need sanctuary, to need amplification, to need someone to say "your story matters here."The result? £50,000 raised by Sutton Friends of Palestine since their first fundraiser. Not through institutional channels or corporate partnerships, but through the radical act of community showing up for community. When spaces create genuine belonging, people don't just rent desks—they build movements.Art as Resistance InfrastructureSamia's Brutiful Tales project transforms collective witness into collective creation. Each silk panel—some two metres, some three metres, some five metres long—becomes a canvas for community response to Palestinian stories. The first panel features artwork by globally renowned Palestinian artist Sliman Mansour alongside contributions from audience members at Samia's talks.The process is as important as the product. During a Zoom session with Seraj Library in Ramallah, a military presence interrupted their co-creation session. Children were left scared as tear gas filled the streets. This wasn't abstract solidarity work—it was a real-time witness to daily reality under occupation.Yet the work continues. Panel three is being created by Art to Heart, a disability arts organisation in Nablus, in partnership with the An-Najah National University Faculty of Arts.The Silk Roads connect not just places but possibilities, proving that creativity can cross any border, survive any checkpoint.The Economics of CourageHere's what most coworking operators miss: taking a stand isn't a business risk—it's a business strategy. When Oru Space chose to support Palestine solidarity work, they didn't lose members. They found their tribe.The people who show up for hard conversations are the same people who show up for community. They're the members who attend events, refer friends, and see their workspace as more than just hot desks and meeting rooms. They understand that belonging isn't about agreeing on everything—it's about creating space for everyone's full humanity.Bernie's observation haunts this conversation: in a city with over a thousand coworking spaces, Oru Space was the only one he found addressing Gaza solidarity work. That's not just a missed opportunity—it's a failure of imagination about what community spaces can be.The Spiritual Physics of Creation"You are really either humanKIND or you're humanCRUEL," Samia says. "Actually, it's a choice that you've got to make. So just make that choice and choose wisely." This isn't theology—it's physics. Every space, every community, every conversation either builds connection or erodes it.Samia describes looking over both shoulders at the end of her life, asking what wake she's left behind. "I don't want to see that I've left turbulence, destruction, devastation. I'm planting seeds and pretty little flowers." This is the spiritual work of community building: understanding that every interaction either plants seeds or spreads poison.The brutiful—that space between brutal and beautiful—is where real community lives. It's where Samia processes grief into art, where Oru Space transforms desk rental into movement infrastructure, where ordinary people discover their capacity for extraordinary solidarity.Community as Communication in UnitySamia defines community as "communication in unity through diversity and inclusion." Not uniformity. Not agreement. Unity—the recognition that our liberation is interconnected, that when anyone is unfree, none of us are fully free.This understanding transforms how we approach community building in coworking spaces. It's not about creating echo chambers or avoiding difficult topics. It's about creating containers strong enough to hold difference, brave enough to name injustice, generous enough to centre healing.When Samia's cousin showed her around Jaffa, they sat on the steps where her grandfather's jewellery shop once stood—bombed in the late 1930s. The building is gone, but the stories remain. The exile continues, but so does the resistance. The brutality is real, but so is the beauty.Links & ResourcesSamia Tossio's Work* Brutiful Tales Instagram * Samia on Instagram* Samia's website* Samia on LinkedIn* Samia on YouTube* Peace of Silk project on Instgram* Sutton Friends of Palestine * Brutiful Tales at Refugee Week in June 2025* Paolo Tossio DJ - (Samia’s husband and resident DJ @ OruSpace) * GoFundMe page for "Brutiful Tales"Projects & Community* Oru Space Sutton and Dulwich in London* 🎙️Fighting to Belong: Building Places Where Everyone Can with Vibushan Thirukumar - co-founder of Oru Space* Join this and other conversations with people in the LinkedIn Coworking Group* Unreasonable Connection Monthly online gatherings for Coworking Community Builders.* FLOC LinkedIn Coworking Recognition Campaign* European Coworking Day May 2026* London Coworking Assembly* European Coworking AssemblyBernie's Projects* London Coworking Assembly 5-Day AI Crash Course for Coworking Spaces* Connect with Bernie on LinkedInOne More ThingCoworking brings communities together, helping people find and share their voices.Each episode of the Coworking Values Podcast explores Accessibility, Community, Openness, Collaboration, and Sustainability—values that shape the spaces where we gather, work, and grow.If this resonates with you, rate, follow, and share

Episode Summary"If it weren't for Coco House, I would not be in Puerto Rico right now because this was what let me be able to continue my business, stay open, and be able to stay and not have to get on a plane and move."When Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico in 2017, Mariangie Rosas had just opened her coworking space across from a food truck park in downtown San Juan. She thought she was running a real estate business. Then the storm knocked out power across the island, and suddenly Coco House—with its backup generators and water cistern—became the only place with internet around.People flooded in, not just to work, but to feel what it was like to be part of something bigger than survival. Mari watched entrepreneurs who were ready to flee the island decide to stay because they'd found their people. That's when she realised coworking wasn't about desks—it was about creating the community infrastructure that keeps talent from leaving.Mari had moved back to Puerto Rico in 2015, swimming against the current as hundreds of thousands of people left the island for better opportunities on the mainland. As American citizens, Puerto Ricans need nothing more than a $300 plane ticket to start fresh anywhere on the East Coast. But Mari saw something different: if locals didn't build the entrepreneurial ecosystem the island needed, someone else would dictate its future.What emerged from her story isn't just about weather disasters or island economics—it's about how community becomes one answer to economic precarity everywhere. From virtual office permits that fast-track business registration to the hundreds of micro-businesses that can't all fail at once, Mari has built something that shows what local resilience looks like in practice.This conversation bridges personal story to systemic insight, revealing why coworking spaces could be civic infrastructure, not just private ventures. Whether you're in Berlin, Oslo, or Wigan, Mari's approach to building local entrepreneurial resilience will shift how you think about community, policy, and what economic development actually means.Timeline Highlights[01:23] "I'm known for building community here on the island, and that's exactly where I want to be known for, creating opportunities for everyone to be able to stay here"[02:25] Standing at a food truck park opening in December 2016, Mari realises: "A coworking space across the street from a food truck park area is going to be amazing"[05:35] The brain drain reality: "$300 for that plane ticket, and you can start working the next day in the US, because we're American citizens"[09:58] Bernie's realisation: "You can't have an entrepreneurial ecosystem without a hub for it"[12:11] Post-hurricane revelation: "If it weren't for Coco House, I would not be in Puerto Rico right now"[13:33] Mari's transformation: "This is the industry that I want. Forget about that food tech idea...coworking is now what I want to do for the rest of my life"[16:10] Community economics in action: "By having a community where you have all the different individuals that can help you either find clients or go through hurdles"[18:55] The retention formula: "They come for the amenities and infrastructure, but they stay because of the community"[20:38] Virtual office innovation: "The municipality of San Juan has created a way that if you're part of a coworking space, you can get your business permits a lot quicker"[21:25] The building ecosystem: "We've seen people start through all the stages to the point where they end up leaving the coworking space because they rent a bigger office in the building"[24:22] The resilience argument: "When you invest millions on having a 200-person company come to your town...you lost 200 jobs. That will never happen in coworking"[25:27] Recording from La Cabina, the soundproof podcast booth inside Coco HouseThe Infrastructure They Don't Teach in Economics ClassMost people think infrastructure means roads and bridges. Mari discovered it was backup generators and a community. When Hurricane Maria knocked out power across Puerto Rico, Coco House became more than a workspace—it became the nervous system keeping local businesses alive. The space had water, internet, and something equally critical: other people who weren't giving up.This isn't romantic thinking about community. It's brutal pragmatism. When your choice is between abandoning your business or having somewhere to keep it running, infrastructure becomes intensely personal. Mari watched entrepreneurs calculate in real time: stay and fight, or catch that $300 flight to mainland certainty.What happened next taught her that coworking spaces aren't competing with traditional offices—they're competing with Miami job offers and New York relocations. The real estate part, the desks and meeting rooms, that's just the delivery system. The actual product belongs to something worth staying for.Why Governments Keep Getting Economic Development WrongEvery municipality has some version of the same playbook: spend millions bringing in one significant employer, cut the ribbon, claim success. Mari and Bernie dissect why this approach creates fragility rather than resilience. When Amazon promises 10,000 jobs, what happens when Amazon leaves? You have empty buildings and unemployed people with specific skills.Coworking flips this equation. Instead of betting everything on one company, you're nurturing hundreds of small businesses across dozens of industries. Instead of recruiting from outside, you're keeping local talent from leaving. Instead of hoping corporate priorities align with community needs, you're building from community needs up.Mari's insight cuts through decades of economic development orthodoxy: "No matter if an entire industry can sometimes get wiped out, coworking space is about hundreds of different industries." That's not just diversification—that's resilience built from the ground up.The irony is that governments already know community infrastructure matters. They fund libraries, parks, and community centres. But somehow, when it comes to economic development, they default to corporate recruitment instead of community cultivation.The Permit Problem No One Talks AboutHere's where Mari's story gets practical. The municipality of San Juan has created a pathway that allows coworking members to obtain business permits more quickly by falling under the space's umbrella licence. Suddenly, virtual office membership isn't just an address—it's a regulatory shortcut that keeps new businesses from drowning in bureaucracy.This solves something every local government claims to care about: making it easier to start businesses. But instead of simplifying the system, most places add more programmes and consultants. Mari's approach recognises that entrepreneurs need community infrastructure to navigate complexity, not more complexity disguised as help.Virtual office members begin with basic addresses and business registration. Still, they're immediately plugged into a community that can help them with everything from vendor recommendations to late-night troubleshooting sessions. It's business incubation that happens naturally rather than through formal programmes with artificial timelines.What Brain Drain Actually Looks LikePuerto Rico's brain drain isn't just about economics—it's about infrastructure for a sense of belonging. When Mari talks about people leaving for mainland opportunities, she's describing something deeper than job availability. She's telling the story of the collapse of the systems that make staying feel possible.The brutal efficiency of the $300 flight to opportunity reveals something about rootedness that applies far beyond islands. People don't just leave for better jobs—they go when they can't imagine building the life they want where they are. The brain drain accelerates when local talent can't find a local community.Mari's generation made a choice that requires sustained courage: come back and build the infrastructure that makes staying possible for the next generation. Not through individual heroism, but through the patient work of community building that creates economic opportunity from the inside out.This connects to what's happening in post-industrial cities across the UK and Europe. The challenge isn't just creating jobs—it's creating the community infrastructure that makes local opportunity feel viable and valuable.Selling the Invisible Without Selling Your SoulEvery coworking operator struggles with this: how do you market community? Mari's answer is beautifully practical: lead with infrastructure, deliver community. People come for backup power and reliable internet. They stay because they've found their people.This solves the marketing problem without compromising the community. You're not overselling magical networking or corporate wellness nonsense. You're offering concrete value—an address, a permit pathway, a place to work when the lights go out. But you're designing everything to create the conditions where community happens naturally.Mari's retention strategy isn't a retention strategy—it's just what happens when people find where they belong. The business model becomes sustainable because the community value becomes undeniable. People don't cancel memberships to communities that changed their lives.The Economics of 200 Jobs That Can't All Fail at OnceMari's most powerful insight demolishes the traditional economic development playbook in one sentence: "When you invest millions on having a 200-person company come to your town...the moment that company can't work anymore, you lose 200 jobs. That will never happen in coworking."She's describing resilience through diversity. Instead of one company employing 200 people, you have 200 entrepreneurs employing themselves and each other. When one industry struggles, others adapt. When one business model fails, others innovate. When one entrepreneur relocates, others stay rooted.This isn't just theory—it's what Mar