This coffee shop has large, black structural poles throughout. There’s one just behind me, from floor to ceiling, between my booth and the counter. A man just walked past me, holding the hand of his tiny daughter, who was probably just under two years old.

“Stay off the pole, honey,” he said to her, pulling her toward the bathroom. Then, he added, “I just have one job as your daddy, and that’s to keep you off the pole.”