Please turn off your bad behaviour
Rowdy
Lurking within our libraries is a diverse range of creatures. These fall into two distinct groups: those who use the library properly, and those who do not. After extensive research, The Oxford Student is able to name and shame the most offensive of library low-life.
The Sniffler
Ah, the Sniffler. The speciality of the Sniffler differs according to his preferred poison. In certain cases, the Sniffler can be identified primarily by his inability to blow his nose.
We call this specimen the Impotent Sniffler. The condition results in a slow, mewling cry issuing from the sinus glands every 1.7 minutes, which wheezes down from an abrupt clearing of mucus to a quick, efficient snort. The Impotent Sniffler is also prone to using the computer sans tissues. Instead he insists upon wiping his slimy hand on request slips in the box next to the printer. He is generally found in arts libraries, poring over medieval pornography and unicorn erotica.
His counterpart, the Messy Sniffler, is remarkable for his tendency to leave balled-up tissues on top of texts. Texts you were planning to use after him. Texts which are now slightly damp. Texts which you are now unable to use without a hairdryer. There are a few approaches to dealing with these snivelly Sniffler types, all of them fairly anti-social. One finds that handing the Impotent Sniffler a tissue is met with a blank stare which rapidly turns to suspicion.
Unfortunately, it is just as difficult to hand a Messy Sniffler a rubbish bin without incurring his snotty wrath.
The Evil Gnome
General rules of life run along these lines: “Don’t touch stoves”, “Don’t lick live wires” and “Don’t pull men older than thirty in Filth”. Within the library, these rules take on a different cast.
In essence, there is one unalterable truth: “If there is a book that is absolutely imperative for your essay which is due in four hours, it will be reference only.” Sadly, this is a fact of life which one must learn to cope with at a tender age. Certain people, however, seem to think that they are above the law. We write of the Evil Gnomes: people who shove these key texts behind other books in order to access them at their leisure.
If you see one in action, take him down by nicking his memory stick. Death is too good for these people.
The Drummer
These poor creatures have The Rhythm so utterly ingrained that even the most straightforward activity, such as breathing, is accompanied by a persistent tap. The beat is, without exception, heavily syncopated.
The Drummer is usually surrounded by an array of objects, all with a surprising degree of percussive potential: pencils, pens, the little clip that secures their laptop screen and �" worst of all �" the mouth. Halfhearted beatboxers seem convinced that the production of these fifty-fifty concoctions of phlegm and spangled sound is an acceptable pasttime within the communal space of the library.
In severe cases, The Drummer can be visually identified by the nodding of the head or, in the case of a complex fill-in, an earnest side-to-side motion. As their foot-tapping, finger-clicking solo staggers to a crescendo, other library users must resist the temptation to provide a conclusive bass finale, courtesy of all twenty volumes of the Oxford English Dictionary (second print edition) and The Drummer’s own head.
The Mobile-a-phile
The crimes of chronic mobile users in libraries are too numerous and varied to express in mere words, so a sampling of the worst will have to suffice. There’s the one person who seems to receive The Call about every nine minutes. Receiving The Call necessitates sprinting out of the library at a speed that would indicate a bowel movement is somewhat looming.
This character is also distinguished by clutching his phone to his ear while obtrusively whispering, “I’m right here. I’m in the library, so I have to be quiet.” In addition to this delightful individual, there’s the Addicted Texter: an individual who appears to be texting for so long, one is tempted to ask if he is transcribing Beowulf into his phone for a friend.
Generally though, the content of the texts is comparatively bland: “Are you going to Filth?” or, my favourite, “Are you in the library?”
The Windows Wanker
The rise of the laptop has really opened up the possibilities for anti-social behaviour. The most irritating user is the one who has not yet found the volume slider on the side of the computer.
After noisily plugging in the machine, the Windows Wanker shares with his studious companions that glorious musical flourish that is the Windows start-up sound. It has not for a second occurred to him/her that impromptu performances of this masterpiece might be disruptive to others. On the contrary, the Windows Wanker looks rather pleased with himself for successfully negotiating all the pitfalls of loading Windows.
Boris
Another type of computer-related irritant comes in the form of Boris.
Boris can be identified by his body position: his arched back forms a natural slouch as, hunched over his laptop, he gently strokes the surface of the screen with the tip of his nose. His fingers pound the keyboard with the vigour of someone seconds away from hacking into the FBI mainframe.
Nearby users gawp in astonishment at Boris’ astounding level of concentration, while others wait expectantly for the moment when he leaps up to declare: “I am invincible!”
The All-Nighter
All-Nighters are an increasingly common phenomenon in libraries across the university at this time of year. Exhausted All-Nighters present the normal daytime library user with something of a moral quandary: as the heap of books on the desk mounts, the All- Nighter’s head sinks.
In severe cases, the specimen starts to emit a soft rasping sound that builds up and becomes punctuated by a series of intermittent snorts. It is difficult to know what to do in these circumstances �" should one wake up the comatose bum, or take a more sympathetic approach? In cases where one’s own work is affected, it is deemed acceptable to throw small balls of paper, pen lids et al, though these measures are often ineffectual.
Try walking up behind the offender, positioning yourself as close to their ear as is socially acceptable, and then slam shut the largest book in the library. Otherwise, if you have an umbrella to hand �" some people often do �" use this as a poking device.
4th May 2006