I moved my backpack to the bigger table, picked up my coffee, sat down at the new location and took out my tools. Only then did I notice that the table was designated handicapped. At that exact moment, with all of the Universe' most precise and perfect and beautiful and poetic timing, an elderly woman walked through the door on a walker.
This gave me a dilemma. Do I pack up all of my shit and move to made the designated space available? I couldn't stay seated without feeling like a dick, so I asked the woman's care taker if they would like to take the bigger table. The care taker was very kind and gracious about it, and told me I was fine. I was instantly relieved of feeling like a dick, and was free to get on with my work in luxury. Hence the importance of speaking up.
Not only was my conscience clear, but I also felt good for making a nice gesture. Furthermore, the other people in the coffee shop heard the conversation. That's not why I did it, but it's always reassuring to see strangers being nice to each other. Even when you're not the one who's on the receiving end of a random act of kindness or generosity or gratitude, they're still nice to see. It brightens up your day and makes you more inclined to nice to other people. Kindness is contagious. So is being a dick. So from my experience, it's best not to be dickish; for my own well being, for the well being of those around me and for the collective whole. Everyone wins when I'm not a dick. It's a beautiful discovery.