It was one of those café afternoons where every table looked claimed by a tote bag, a half-empty latte, or a laptop doing its best impression of a permanent resident. The air smelled like espresso and toasted pastries, and the soundtrack was a mix of clinking cups and quiet keyboard tapping. I’d snagged a small two-top by the wall—prime real estate because it had an outlet—then settled in with my drink and my phone charging beside me.
About twenty minutes in, right as I’d started to feel like I might actually get through my to-do list, a stranger appeared at the edge of my table. No small talk, no “Hey, mind if I…”—just a laptop cord in hand and the confident body language of someone who’d already made the decision. Before I could fully process what was happening, they leaned in and plugged their charger into the outlet at my table.
A Plug, a Pause, and a Line That Didn’t Help
I looked up, probably with the exact expression people make when they’ve been interrupted in the middle of reading a text that starts with “We need to talk.” The stranger didn’t look guilty or rushed. They looked… practical, like they were tightening a bolt on a piece of furniture that belonged to everyone.
Then came the comment, delivered with casual certainty: I wasn’t “using all the power anyway.” It wasn’t said as a joke, exactly. It was more like a fact, the way someone might explain that the other half of the bench is open so they’re going to sit.
In that moment, my brain ran through three reactions at once: confusion, annoyance, and the weird urge to laugh because the audacity was so cleanly packaged. I was using the outlet—my phone was plugged in—but also, even if I wasn’t, since when did that turn into an open invitation? Still, cafés are social places, and I wasn’t looking to start a scene over two prongs and a wire.
When Café Etiquette Gets… Invented on the Spot
There’s an unwritten rulebook to coffee shop life, and most of us follow it without thinking. You don’t blast audio on speaker. You don’t take a four-person table for one person during the lunch rush unless you have to. And you definitely don’t reach into someone else’s space like you’re checking your own mailbox.
But outlets are their own messy category. In a crowded café, an outlet can feel like a winning lottery ticket, especially to someone watching their battery drop to single digits. The problem is that “I need it” doesn’t automatically translate to “I can take it,” and that’s where the friction starts.
The stranger’s logic—“you’re not using all the power”—has the same energy as grabbing a few fries off someone’s plate because they “weren’t going to finish them anyway.” Maybe true, maybe not, but still not the point. The point is: it wasn’t asked, and that changes the whole tone.
The Small Moment That Turned Into a Bigger One
I glanced around, half-expecting someone to make eye contact that said, “Did that just happen?” A couple of people were deep in their screens, and one barista was calling out drink names like they were reading a roll call. Nobody seemed to notice, which is probably why little boundary-crossings like this can feel oddly isolating.
For a few seconds, I just sat there listening to the café noise and deciding whether I wanted to spend my afternoon being “the person who got into an outlet dispute.” The stranger had already started setting up, typing like the world’s most efficient trespasser. Their cord ran across the edge of my table like it had always lived there.
It’s not that sharing is impossible in a café. Plenty of people share outlets all the time, and it can be totally normal. But it usually starts with a sentence as simple as, “Hey, are you using that?” which is basically the Swiss Army knife of polite public interaction.
Why People Feel Weirdly Entitled to Outlets
Part of it is scarcity. Many cafés still have fewer outlets than customers, which turns charging into a game of musical chairs. When you finally find a seat near power, it can feel like you’ve earned something, even though you’re just sitting near a wall like everyone else.
Another part is that electricity is invisible, so it doesn’t trigger the same “that’s yours” instinct as, say, someone taking your chair. People think of an outlet like air conditioning: a shared resource. But the outlet at your table isn’t quite the same as the café’s Wi-Fi—it’s physically inside your personal bubble for the time you’re sitting there.
And then there’s the modern pressure to stay connected. A dead battery is a small crisis now, not just an inconvenience. For some folks, that urgency turns into permission, and permission turns into entitlement, all without any conscious decision being made.
What Café Staff and Regulars Say the Rules Should Be
Ask anyone who spends time working out of cafés and you’ll hear the same basic guideline: if someone is already using the outlet, you ask before you join. If they’re not using it, you still ask, because it’s attached to their space while they’re there. If you don’t want to talk to strangers, that’s fine—just don’t borrow from them.
Some baristas will tell you they’d rather customers come to the counter and ask for help than negotiate at tables. A power strip behind the bar, a designated charging station, or even a quick “Hey, can you share?” from staff can prevent awkwardness. A lot of cafés want the vibe to stay calm, and nothing kills calm faster than a cord creeping across someone’s workspace.
Regulars also have a practical note: sharing can be safe and easy if it’s done right. If someone offers to share, great—use a small charger, keep cords out of the way, and don’t unplug anything that isn’t yours. Nobody wants to lose a draft, a meeting, or a nearly-full phone battery because a stranger decided to rearrange the outlet situation.
The Polite Way This Could’ve Gone
There’s a version of this story where the stranger walks up and says, “Hey, sorry—could I plug in for a bit? My battery’s about to die.” Most people, in most situations, would at least consider it. Even a no would likely be friendly: “I’m charging too, sorry,” or “I need it for work.”
Instead, the stranger skipped straight to action and followed it with a line that made it sound like I was being unreasonable for existing near electricity. That’s what made it feel so jarring. It wasn’t the request—it was the assumption.
In a place where we’re all trying to coexist with minimal friction, the smallest gestures matter. Asking is one of those tiny social tools that costs nothing and prevents a whole lot of silent resentment. Plus, it turns a weird moment into a human one, which is kind of the whole point of going to a café in the first place.
A Little Reminder for Anyone Who’s Ever Been at 3% Battery
If you’re reading this and thinking, “Okay, but I’ve been desperate too,” you’re not alone. We’ve all done the frantic bag search for a charger like it’s an archaeological dig. But desperation doesn’t make boundaries disappear—it just makes it more important to be decent about them.
The best move is still the simplest one: ask, wait for an answer, and accept it. If you’re told no, it’s not a moral judgment; it’s just a person protecting their space or their battery. And if you’re told yes, congratulations—you just got power and proved you know how to live among other humans.
As for me, I kept thinking about that phrase—“using all the power anyway”—because it was so confidently wrong. It’s not about wattage; it’s about respect. And in a crowded café, respect is the one resource everyone’s always using.
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As a mom of three busy boys, I know how chaotic life can get — but I’ve learned that it’s possible to create a beautiful, cozy home even with kids running around. That’s why I started Cultivated Comfort — to share practical tips, simple systems, and a little encouragement for parents like me who want to make their home feel warm, inviting, and effortlessly stylish. Whether it’s managing toy chaos, streamlining everyday routines, or finding little moments of calm, I’m here to help you simplify your space and create a sense of comfort.
But home is just part of the story. I’m also passionate about seeing the world and creating beautiful meals to share with the people I love. Through Cultivated Comfort, I share my journey of balancing motherhood with building a home that feels rich and peaceful — and finding joy in exploring new places and flavors along the way.
