February 6, 2025
Yesterday, I decided to step out of my home office and work on a budget for an upcoming project at a coffee shop in Tulsa. Normally, I’d do this from home, where I can freely pace, talk to my dogs about creative decisions, and not have to pretend to be productive. But since I also needed to scout a location for a shoot happening on Saturday, I figured why not sip on some overpriced coffee and sit all pretentiously in front of my MacBook Pro like I was doing something incredibly important?
It reminded me of my LA days when the only way I felt I could write was in public, where strangers could look over and say, “That guy is definitely writing a screenplay.” And they’d be right. I was. I was always writing some terrible something that never left my monitor, but damn, I felt cool doing it. (Spoiler: I was not cool.)
It’s been years since I’ve been alone in a coffee shop, pretending to be a modern-day, over-caffeinated Hemingway. And while I was mostly just plugging numbers into a spreadsheet and occasionally checking Reddit, it felt good. Another thing I’d forgotten about was the prime people-watching that comes with coffee shop culture.
First, you have the people like me—sitting, typing, hoping someone notices them sitting and typing. Then you have the students doing homework, the pairs catching up but mostly looking at their phones so they can repeat the process in another five years, and the one guy talking way too loud on his phone so we all know how important he is.
Then there’s the business guy—the one who has clearly turned this coffee shop into his own personal office. Yesterday, Business Guy was having a Very Important Meeting, and lucky for me, I got to hear all of it.
From what I gathered, it was a funding pitch. Business Guy was trying to convince Client Guy to invest in what sounded like a production company. I know this dance—I’ve done it myself, and I’ve helped others through it. Nobody enjoys asking for money, and nobody enjoys being asked for money. It’s a delicate negotiation of enthusiasm and financial skepticism.
But then, Business Guy pulled out a line that completely derailed my attention: “Don’t answer now, go home and pray about it.”
Client Guy’s reaction was unfortunately out of my view, but I had questions. Was he really about to let God be his investment advisor? Is Jesus his co-lender? I kept listening.
Next, Business Guy unveiled logos and branding, proudly stating, “My wife has Photoshop and made these.” I hear this all the time. I’ve been using Photoshop for over 25 years, and I still can’t design a logo as well as my wife Tonya, an actual designer. It’s not the software; it’s the skill. But fine. Some of the most successful companies in the world have awful logos.
Then, Business Guy dropped another holy bomb: “She prayed on these.”
Client Guy didn’t respond to that one. Maybe he was still digesting the idea that divine intervention had been sought for logo design. More details emerged: spreadsheets, a PowerPoint that wouldn’t open, a five-year plan that involved—you guessed it—a lot of praying.
Client Guy wasn’t just being asked to invest in Business Guy; he was being asked to invest in a company where business decisions were apparently being made in the boardrooms of Heaven.
Eventually, the meeting wrapped up. They shook hands, and Client Guy left, while Business Guy lingered just long enough to avoid walking out at the same time—classic power move. Also worth noting: Business Guy left all his plates and trash on the table. Not very godly.
As someone who owns a business, I had to wonder—was this guy a loon, or was he onto something? Should I start incorporating divine fear into my pitches? “Run this marketing campaign, or you’ll go to Hell.” Would that work? Am I missing a golden opportunity?
I mean, in my 30s, I watched a friend break up with a guy, only to get back together because he told her, “God told me we need to be together.” She wasn’t into it, but she figured she shouldn’t argue with the Almighty, so they ran off to have a predictably mediocre life together.
Can I get away with the same logic? Can I half-ass my work, stamp “In God We Trust” on it, and watch the money roll in? Can I slap “This candidate is approved by God” on a campaign, even if the guy has never touched a Bible except to light it on fire and sell it for parts?
Religion is weird. And while I almost agree that it should be separated from the state, can we also start separating it from business? If your entire sales pitch hinges on “A man in the clouds approves this message,” your grift is pretty unholy.
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