Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems
Filed under: Ex Libris Den Mother 4.0
Having people come up to visit Indy Hall for the first time is awesome. I say the word “awesome” too much, maybe. But, oh my god, it’s awesome to show-off something awesome to some potentially awesome people and have them leave thinking that you’re an awesome person who works in an awesome environment.
/awesome
That being said, during every tour that I give to someone brand new to our space, our active philosophies, I almost always arrive at an incredibly shitty juncture, prompted by this question:
-”How much?”
Hey, don’t harsh my buzz, man. Don’t get me wrong – it’s very obviously a perfectly valid, practically-minded inquiry. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THIS QUESTION. The issue is entirely on my behalf, and it comes from my reminder that Indy Hall isn’t some totally-not-for-profit oasis of zero obligation and need for financial sustenance. It reminds me that money has to be involved, at some point. It reminds me that I can’t just invite this positively wonderful visitor into our happy family without at least subtly initiating a transaction.
It’s at that point where I wonder where the balance is between Indy Hall’s ability to sustain its obligatory (financial) operations and its almost free-love ethos (the coworking mantra). That “line”, and there is one, is so finely vague – intentionally, too: too much of the operation b.s. and we’re diluting the essence of what it is to “cowork”. Too little of it, and we’re dead in the water – we won’t have amenities to boast of (not that we have ever or will ever brag on behalf of our desk real estate). I just…feel weird bringing it into the conversation, as though it spoils our soon-to-be wonderful friendship.
I found a significant likeness to my Indy Hall “finance vs. fun” trouble during a poker game that I had no business buying into. See, before that game, I didn’t know how to play poker. The $20 buy-in, however, was a risk that resulted in understanding that I wasn’t paying money to just to lose it (as I initially anticipated), but to join friends and meet new ones over an easy card game. Hell, I learned how to play Poker after I put my money on the table, and I’ve been laughing about conversations with the other guys at the table since we played. An ignorant and cynical self saw nothing but loss in that game, but an enlightened and happy self knows only how much I gained. I gained everything, that night.
And, look, I’m not saying that Indy Hall is a risk or a gamble. I recognize the inherent issues with comparing our lovely coworking environment with a scandalous game of betting and bluffing. What I’m getting at, ultimately, is the game of Texas Hold ‘Em opened my eyes to a new worth of currency, and that’s how I feel about Indy Hall. I’ll state it, bluntly: no one is coming here for a desk. Nobody is paying for our printer. You’re coming here for something intangible, but lasting: a platform for relationships we might not find elsewhere. If there is a risk, I promise you that it’s worth one. If we must talk money, I’d prefer that we discuss how very much you will gain from putting up a few bucks to keep this good thing rolling.
By the way, the buy-in is $25 – coffee is on us, though.
I don’t think you’ll regret sitting at our table.
