People who socialise in the library are the spawn of Satan
We don’t want to hear about how mad last night was
People who socialise in the library are the evil creation of the devil. The library is a place of study, not one for chatting, laughing or organising your top night out at LEVEL.
It’s hard enough to find a seat in the SJ as it is, without battling against the people who use the seats for mindless chatter stations with their friends. There are so many better places to go and socialise in Liverpool: Bold Street’s cafés, Sefton Park, the smoking area of the SJ, whatever floats your boat. But just really not the quiet zone of the library, please.
There’s nothing worse than being stuck in the heated hell-hole of the SJ for any reason anyway. The worst is when completing that essay at the last minute, resulting in trying to cram half a semester of learning into one sitting.
So there you are, sitting down and attempt to read pages of eloquently written indecipherable nonsense, trying to reach that blissful point where you understand what the difference between democracy, theocracy and a caliphate is, or what the fuck labioscrotal swelling is. You’re 500 words in and everything is just starting to look up.
But no, who has to come and ruin your progress? The library socialites.
At first he was just a piece of eye-candy across the desk from you, but then your library bae breaks your heart. His rugby lad friend has stopped by to see if he wants to go and get a £3 meal deal from Tesco. It’s alright at first because he’s fit too.
But gradually, realisation dawns that they are going to spend at least half an hour chatting about all the banter they got up to at AU night and how many birds Chauncey shagged that week.
After half an hour of listening to them discuss the size of Chauncey’s ego, they finally leave and all is well, but not for long.
Just when you thought you were free from the banter lads, back they come with their lunch, egg mayo sandwich for one and pickled onion for the other. Could the aroma be any worse? When you’re eating you can’t work (don’t pretend you can) so why stink the whole place out with tuna and sweetcorn or other gross combinations?
If you’re taking a lunch break, why take it here? Surely you want to take a break from being in the pit of the library, surrounded by your nightmares of deadlines and revision stress? Why would you spend your sacred break time disturbing everyone else as you munch loudly on wotsits or carrot sticks or whatever monstrosity takes your fancy. Eat what you like but do it anywhere except the work zone.
The Sydney Jones has its own café and Harold Cohen is near the café on the square – all very convenient for a quick lunch break. But you chose the seat across from the girl writing her last dissertation chapter? Kind of you.
People continue to not understand the concept of the ‘quiet’ zone, as simplistic as it is. Everyone hates being in the library, and a five minute break chatting with your library buddy is fine but do not stay there, chatting about the delicacies of the Gaza strip diplomacy difficulties at length.
The lovely library staff have put signs all around telling you to go for a walk if you need a chat, please just pay attention.
The social study area exists for a reason, so if you’re coming to the library with a mate and know you are going to be chatting, for the sake of those who struggle to concentrate as it is, take your chatter elsewhere.
No one wants to be in the library to start with, and just because you don’t want to work doesn’t mean its acceptable for you to make it worse for everyone else. Anyway, you should be doing work, or at least pretending to do it.