Pulsating sobs were echoing throughout Steenbock Memorial Library late one Tuesday night and interrupting the very motivated students who surrounded the circulation desk. It was too early for an exam breakdown—those were at least five days away—but it apparently was time for an inter-family fight over a $1,300 credit card bill.
""But Daddy, you just don't understand! It's not like I only want these things, it's like I need them and for you to say that you can't help me out when I've been working so hard, well, it like really really hurts."" She was shrieking at this point.
""No, I can't just call Jason. He doesn't know what it means to me and it's not like he is adjusting any of his plans so that he can come here for graduation and I have five exams and this is not helping me."" She wasn't exactly helping the other people study either.
""Um, excuse me,"" a meek, bespectacled boy said while the girl was fighting back sobs. ""But there's a couple in one of the study rooms, uh—"" his voice dropped to a whisper, ""Making out, and, well, I don't want to be rude but I just think that those rooms should be for studying, so could you, well, kick them out?""
The girl was shrieking again. ""God! No, don't put Mom on the phone, I don't want to talk to her. You just don't understand what it's like to be in college!""
Oh well—that girl on that Tuesday night was just one of the ugly, exam-week monsters that wreak havoc in UW-Madison libraries. It all starts with lines of 20 people waiting to get into the library at 9:30 a.m. while the morning temperature hovers around 20 degrees. Then there's breakdowns, fights over everything from laptops to reserve books, study rooms to outlets to microwaves, and each comes with a slight hint of possible mayhem in the air.
My roommate—whose exam-induced stress has turned her pleasant voice into low, deep, serial killer-esque drawl—devised a complicated points-based system to reward those who have studied all semester and alleviate library tension.
""Why should I not get an outlet just because some stupid girl who hasn't been at the library all semester decided that she had better write that psych paper before it's due,"" she reasoned one Friday night as she angrily chomped on pretzels. ""And if I want a bag of popcorn, I shouldn't have to wait for someone to cook their Lean Cuisine lasagna for 15 minutes. I should be allowed to skip.""
At least at Steenbock Library, I can work from behind the circulation desk's protective shield and fend off the angry patrons' snide comments.
""Hi, can I borrow a laptop?""
""I'm sorry, but we don't have any. There's some desktop computers if you—""
""Why don't you have any?""
""Because they've all been checked out.""
""Then don't you think you should have gotten more?""
""Um, I'm not in charge of that.""
""Don't you think that's evidence of poor planning? How did you get your laptop?""
""I bought it.""
""Oh."" The patron paused and sized up my iBook. ""I see.""
He left, and I hid my laptop under the desk.
The parade of stressed-out students driving to the confines of libraries has begun early this year. I don't know if I can make it.
