Coworking Values Podcast

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 nationally

The Shed Problem Nobody Talks About

Every 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 Past

Michael has a theory that sounds nostalgic until you think about it for more than 30 seconds.

AI is coming for desk jobs. Not...

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 conversation

The Value That Doesn’t Show Up in Reports

Every 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 Solving

Tilley 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 c...

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 Syunik

Why Secrecy Loses to Collaboration

Sara 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 Teaches

Sara 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 Centre

2020 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.”

Sar...

“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 Dead

Jon 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 Infrastructure

Politics, 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 Framework

The 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...

"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 Nothing

Here'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 Lie

Caroline 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 Industry

FLOC'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 Marketing

Caroline'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 connecti...

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 Respect

Williamz'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 Belonging

Bernie 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 applicati...

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 Model

The 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 Agency

The 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 Revolution

Ali'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 Networking

The 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 Model

One 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 Practice

Ali'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 asset.

"The proof is in the pudding," Ali explains. Success comes from consistent delivery, not marketing promises. People return because they feel genuinely served, not professionally networked.

For coworking operators struggling with member retention, Ali's approach offers a different framework: focus on genuine service over growth metrics. The return rate follows the relationship quality.

From Mutual Aid to Sustainable Business

The most challenging part of Ali's journey isn't the community building—it's the business building. Moving from crisis response to sustainable infrastructure requires different skills, different thinking, different relationships with money and growth.

"At the start, it's a response. You're responding and reacting to a need," Ali reflects. "But then I had to build a business around that. Then it becomes less reactive and more. Okay, what are we doing?"

The solution involves multiple revenue streams—canteens, workshops, consulting, and speaking—but the core remains community-led programming that serves people the market economy often overlooks.

The lesson for coworking operators: sustainable community programming requires business model innovation, not just good intentions. You need revenue streams that align with community values, not compromise them.

🔗 Links & Resources

* Carib Eat's main website

* Carib Eat’s on Instagram

* Black Cultural Centre

* Connect with Ali on LinkedIn

* Urban MBA

Projects & Community

* 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 Assembly

Bernie's Projects

* London Coworking Assembly 5-Day AI Crash Course for Coworking Spaces

* Connect with Bernie on LinkedIn

One More Thing

Coworking 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 🔑

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 Spaces

Fanny 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 Conversations

Fanny'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 Impossible

One 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 Told

W...

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 Presence

What 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 Infrastructure

Samia'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 Courage

Here'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."

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 House

The Infrastructure They Don't Teach in Economics Class

Most 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 Wrong

Every 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 About

Here'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 Like

Puerto 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 ...