What your Glasgow library level says about you

The Glasgow University Library has a hierarchy like the animal kingdom. The bottom levels are packed full of hungry, hopeless, hungover students looking to mate while wasting time and money and the higher levels accommodate the skilled hunters who will go to extreme lengths to bag that golden booth with a plug.

Level three: The procrastinators

These guys are here for everything except studying.

With the new entrance situated on level three and the glow of the cafe right in front of you, none of us really have a hope of getting anything done in the library. Within three minutes of entering, you’ll have bumped into that guy from freshers’ week and changed direction in order to ignore one of your old flatmates.

It all gets worse when you collide with that person in your tutorial group whose name you still definitely don’t know, but it’s week nine and there’s no hope of ever finding out now and before you know it, you’re sitting in a big ass booth having spent all your money with only a tinny of red bull and a millionaire’s slice to show for it. As it turns out, having a great social life will not get you into honours. Excellent. Fuck.

Don’t worry though, everyone will be sure to pat you on the back and tell you it’s all going to be fine. Just chill out, have a coffee and a chat and worry about the essay that’s due at 2pm today, tomorrow. It’ll all fall into place soon hen, promise.

Level four: The procrastinators who can’t admit it to themselves

The only reason you’ll ever end up on level four is if you were feeling brave that day and decided to take the stairs instead of the lift up to level seven so you could actually get some work done. After one flight, you immediately regretted your life choices and decided to settle for level four to get to work. Huge mistake. On level four, you’ve entered the “amber zone” also known as the Garden of Eden.

Temptation is everywhere.

It takes about five seconds for “whispering conversations” to turn into a full-blown heart-to-heart with some randomer who is telling you about the one time they pissed themselves in Hive. Congratulations, you’ve made a new best friend. Fuck the library, fuck uni, you guys are off to the beer bar.

Level five: The lost souls

Does anyone even use level five?

Apparently so.

If you’re on level five, you’ve really hit rock bottom. These guys get nothing done and are past giving a shit. If you’re here, you’ll be floating about mindlessly, considering popping back down to level four and learning how to play the keyboard. Lets face it, you’re going to leave as soon as you realise you’ve left your pen at home AGAIN and couldn’t possibly get any work done without one.

Level six: The ‘This year, I’m actually going to read the recommended reading list’ liars

If you’ve made it this far, well done – you might actually open a book on level six. People that end up on level six have finally decided they’re ready to take uni seriously and get some work done.

This will all go fine and well if you can stop yourself from taking thirty different pictures of the sun setting over uni and spending 15 minutes applying the perfect filter on Instagram.

Good luck, my friend.

Level seven: Not all those who wander are lost

Well, if you’re on level seven you clearly are lost. This level is full of maps and stuff, none which point you to the nearest exit. Useless.

Level eight: The ‘I always have a highlighter on me’ people

These guys are here to study.

Hooray! You’ve made it. Finally, a quiet level where you can really do something productive with your time. Oh wait, there’s actually people who go to the library to get things done? Yes, and they all arrive at 8am every morning with their scraps of paper and scarves ready to claim their territory. Do not steal their chairs, they will find you and they will place rude sticky notes on your back.

Next.

Level nine: The homeless

If you’re on level nine, you’re in it for the long run. You’ve either got horrific flatmates or you can’t afford to turn the heating on so you’ve decided to make level nine your new home. It’s not unusual to see people roaming around in their socks, snoozing on the sofa or plugging their kettles into the wall.

It’s usually just as packed as level eight but if you find a seat you’re sorted. Flick your shoes off, get cosy and get down to business.

Level ten: The crisp suckers

You speak, you die.

Level ten is where the serious work gets done. Don’t dare screw open a bottle cap, drop a pen or breathe because you will feel the hot glares piercing your back, even from the books surrounding you. They’re leather-bound and they’re intimidating as hell.

Bail, bail, bail.

Level eleven: Those guys who are actually going to get a job at the end of uni

Yes, they exist.

It’s quiet and filled with family-sized booths so everyone can communally hiss at you if you so much as glance at your phone.

Get your head down, or get out.

On the plus side, barely anyone goes this high so you’ll have the lift to yourself. If you’re quick you might just even manage to get a sexy wee snap.

Level twelve : People who are still saying “lolcat” for comedic effect

These guys haven’t had human interaction with people for a few weeks and don’t really care.

Most of them are over 25 and just really hate everyone. So do the smart thing and get yourself back down to level three for a quick coffee before you head home.