Things were changing for Hillman. He resolved to wear pants before noon. But we're getting ahead of our story. Let's return to Hillman's post-employment angst.
Having no cat with which to chat, he moved to a nearby java joint, laptop in tow.
It was vaguely satisfying in that he encountered humanoids, but "it's like they were silhouettes. I had people around me, but I didn't communicate with them, so it was filling half of the need, but it was the bottom half."
Not only that, but . . .
"I always felt an obligation to the coffee shop. I was taking up precious space," Hillman said. "I was definitely drinking more coffee than I should have, so I wasn't sleeping."
Even before he left his job, he had begun to learn about co-working, an idea blossoming on the West Coast.
It's not job-sharing, with two people taking turns in the same stall in the cube farm.
Instead, think of co-working as an entrepreneurial version of parallel play, with owners of their own small businesses working side by side in a drop-in place that looks like a coffee cafe, minus the barista, with all the accoutrements of what's hip: high ceilings, beer fridge, pool table and Internet access.
Paying as little as $175 a month, they mostly work on their own. But they also trade ideas, help solve problems, and move in and out of loose collaborations.
Today's technology - wireless access, cell phones, BlackBerries and laptops - makes possible a mobile workforce.
Still lonely, Hillman found himself drawn to social and professional groups, but networking nights over margaritas were not what he wanted either, although he likes margaritas.
What he wanted was the happy chance of serendipity and the collegial buzz of people united by passion for their work, whatever it is.
