This is a guest post by DeShawn Brown, CEO at Coworks, a software solution for today’s flex and coworking spaces. (And one of our amazing CJ Co partners.)
You know what nobody puts on their coworking space website?
“Come for the wifi. Stay for the social capital.”
But maybe they should. Because while we’re all busy optimizing space utilization rates and perfecting coffee bar aesthetics—and yes, building software to help manage all of that—something more valuable is happening in the margins of these spaces.
By the way, this entire post was inspired by Phil Kirshner’s Workline newsletter. If you do not yet subscribe, change that. Plus, Cat has written this great post about social capital here.
Between the hot desks and the phone booths, in the kitchen conversations and the impromptu hallway introductions, communities are building something McKinsey says might matter more than any amenity we could install.
They call it social capital: “the presence of networks, relationships, shared norms, and trust among individuals, teams, and business leaders.”
Not exactly the sexiest phrase, is it?
But stick with me here, because the research behind it tells a story that should make every operator lean in. Employees who feel more connected are two times more likely to report higher sponsorship, one and a half times more likely to feel belonging, and one and a half times more likely to be engaged.
Those aren’t incremental improvements. Those are the kinds of numbers that change lives and careers. And here’s the thing: the spaces I get to work with every day might already be some of the richest sources of social capital in their members’ professional lives. Operators just might not be thinking about it that way yet.
The difference between a room and a community
I’ve visited hundreds of coworking spaces over the years. From scrappy startup spaces in converted warehouses to polished corporate flex offices in gleaming towers. And I can tell you this: the best ones aren’t the ones with the fanciest furniture or the most sophisticated booking systems (though our software helps with that part).
The best ones are the spaces where I walk in and immediately feel something different. There’s energy. People actually talking to each other. Members who know each other’s names. The kind of atmosphere where “networking” doesn’t mean awkward happy hours and forced team bonding exercises that make everyone wish they were anywhere else.
The beautiful thing about coworking spaces is that social capital doesn’t have to be manufactured. It emerges. Naturally. When the conditions are right.
Think about the last time you saw two members strike up a conversation in your space. Maybe one needed a recommendation for a good accountant. Maybe another was stuck on a design problem and the person at the next table happened to be a designer. These aren’t forced interactions—they’re organic moments of connection that happen because diverse people are sharing the same physical space with the same underlying understanding: we’re all here trying to build something.
That’s social capital in action. Not the sterile, corporate version. The real kind. The kind built on networks and relationships and shared norms and trust.
What makes your space different from a coffee shop
Someone always asks this, right? “Why would I pay for a coworking space when I could just work from a coffee shop?”
This skeptical question is asked by member prospects all the time — operators report on it. And the answer isn’t about the wifi speed or the ergonomic chairs or even the software that makes everything run smoothly, though those help. It’s about intentionality.
When someone walks into a coffee shop, they’re there for coffee. Maybe to work, sure. But the social contract is different. Everyone’s in their own bubble. Headphones on. Laptops glowing. The universal signal for “please don’t talk to me.”
Your space is different because everyone who walks through your door has made a choice. They’ve decided they want to be part of something. They’re opting into a community, even if they don’t articulate it that way. Even the most introverted developer who just wants a quiet desk is still choosing to be around other people who get it—people who understand the freelance hustle or the startup grind or the remote work isolation.
That choice creates possibility. And possibility is where social capital lives.
The economics of connection
Let’s talk about what this actually means for your business. Because I know you’re not just running a community center out of the goodness of your heart. You have revenue targets and retention goals and all those very real operational concerns that keep you up at night.
Here’s the thing about social capital: it’s a retention engine.
I see this in the data all the time. When members feel connected to other members, they don’t leave. They feel like they can’t. Because leaving means abandoning their network, their relationships, their tribe.
The presence of networks and relationships and shared norms and trust among individuals—that’s not just nice to have. That’s stickiness you cannot buy with amenities alone.
Think about your longest-tenured members. I’d bet money they’re not still around because of your conference room booking system (though I really hope it’s good). They’re there because of the people they know. The designer who refers them clients. The founder who gives them honest feedback on their pitch. The person who always knows which food truck is parked outside on Thursdays.
Those connections are infrastructure. Invisible, maybe. But infrastructure nonetheless. And just like any infrastructure, it needs to be built intentionally.
The spaces where social capital thrives
Not all square footage is created equal when it comes to building social capital.
I’ve studied hundreds of floor plans and space designs through our platform. Private offices? Important for focus. Necessary for calls. Critical for revneue. But not ideal for spontaneous connection. Your rows of silent, facing-the-wall desks? Same problem. People can’t build trust with the backs of heads.
The kitchen, though. The kitchen is gold. So is that slightly-too-small communal table that forces people to acknowledge each other. So is the phone booth cluster where people emerge from calls and make eye contact with whoever’s waiting. These are the spaces where “excuse me” turns into “what do you do?” which turns into “we should talk about this.”
I’m not suggesting you should design your entire space around forced interactions. Nobody wants that. But think about the proportion of your space that enables connection versus the proportion that prevents it. Are you creating enough collision points? Enough reasons for people to be in the same place at the same time?
Because the presence of networks and relationships doesn’t happen in isolation. It happens in proximity. In repetition. In the casual architecture of your space.
Your role as a social capital architect
Here’s where it gets interesting for you as an operator or manager. You’re not just managing real estate. You’re architecting possibility.
This is something I think about constantly when we’re building features for our platform. Sure, we can help you automate billing and manage bookings and track occupancy. But the real question is: are we helping you build social capital? Are we making it easier for you to facilitate the presence of networks, relationships, shared norms, and trust?
Every decision you make either builds social capital or erodes it.
The way you onboard new members: do you introduce them around or just hand them a key fob?
The events you program: are they genuine opportunities for connection or just boxes to check?
The norms you establish: do they encourage collaboration or competition?
McKinsey talks about shared norms as part of social capital, and this is where your influence runs deep. You set the tone for how people interact in your space. Is it okay to ask for help? Is it encouraged to make introductions? Do people feel permission to start conversations?
These aren’t policies you can write into a handbook. They’re cultural artifacts you have to model and nurture and protect.
The best operators I work with do this instinctively. They remember names and context. They spot connection opportunities—”Oh, you’re both working in fintech”—and make introductions. They create spaces and moments where trust can form. Not because they’re following some community management playbook, but because they understand that their real job is cultivating soil where relationships can grow.
The compounding returns of trust
There’s something almost magical about what happens when social capital reaches a certain density in a coworking space. The returns start to compound.
I see this in the communities that have been using our platform for years. Members start making introductions on behalf of the operators. They bring friends as guests. They host their own informal gatherings. They create Slack channels and WhatsApp groups and organize outside activities. The community starts to self-organize, self-govern, self-perpetuate.
This is what happens when you’ve built real trust among individuals and teams and business leaders. The community becomes bigger than you. It takes on its own life. Your job shifts from creating all the connections to simply maintaining the conditions where connections can flourish.
And here’s the beautiful part: this is when your space becomes truly differentiated. Because another coworking space can copy your layout. They can match your pricing. They can buy the same furniture and serve the same coffee. They can even use the same operating software we provide. But they can’t replicate years of accumulated trust and networks and relationships and shared norms. They can’t copy your social capital.
That’s your moat. That’s what makes members think twice—or three times, or not at all—about leaving.
The members who prove the point
I love asking long-tenured members why they stayed. I do this whenever I visit a space, just casual conversations in the kitchen or while they’re making coffee.
They never talk about amenities. They tell me about the people they’ve met. The collaborations that emerged. The support they received during hard times. The friendships that formed. The feeling of being two times more likely to have sponsorship, one and a half times more likely to feel belonging, one and a half times more likely to be engaged—even if they’d never use those exact words.
They tell me about social capital. They just might call it “community” or “my people” or “the reason I get out of bed and come here instead of working from home.”
Same thing.
What you’re really selling
So here’s my challenge to you: stop thinking about your coworking space as real estate with perks. Start thinking about it as a social capital factory.
Every square foot, every policy, every interaction is either building networks and relationships and shared norms and trust, or it’s not. There’s no neutral ground. You’re either creating the conditions where social capital can flourish, or you’re accidentally preventing it.
The good news? You’re probably already doing this better than you realize. Those casual conversations you facilitate. Those introductions you make. Those norms you model. That trust you’ve earned. It’s all adding up. It’s all creating value that goes far beyond the monthly membership fee.
The even better news? Once you see your space through this lens, you can be way more intentional about it. You can design for connection. Program for relationship. Optimize for trust. Not in a forced or artificial way, but in a way that honors what makes coworking spaces special in the first place.
And yes, technology can help. The right software can free you up to focus on people instead of administrative tasks. It can help you spot patterns—who’s connecting with whom, which events drive the most engagement, where the gaps in your community might be. But the technology is just a tool. You’re the architect.
Because at the end of the day, people don’t need another place to park their laptop. They can do that anywhere. What they need—what they’re actually paying you for, whether they know it or not—is access to something much more valuable.
They need social capital. The presence of networks, relationships, shared norms, and trust.
And you? You’re one of the few people in a position to give it to them.
That’s not a small thing. That’s everything. And from where I sit, helping hundreds of operators build these communities every day, I can tell you it’s the most important work happening in this industry right now.
Thanks to our friends and partners at Coworks! Get in touch with DeShawn and the team for guidance and support with your coworking space software.
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