The British Library can be a bit like being at school.
As there are a lot of things to sort out before I go away and I was expecting some calls I had my phone on silent today, so I could see if anyone was calling and receive texts. I got a few calls, but put them all on to the answer phone knowing I could ring them back. My manager Jon rang. I went out to try and ring him back about five minutes later, but he was in a meeting. Exactly the same thing happened a couple of hours later. So around about 5.30pm when I got a call, I figured it would be him, so not wanting to miss him again, I answered, whispered “Hold on, I’m in the library” and then walked to the exit so I could continue the conversation.
As I passed the entry desk, at a part of the library where conversation is acceptable in my mind as you are asked for your pass and to show your bags there etc, I whispered to Jon’s PA. “OK, I’m ready to take the call now,” and left the library and headed for the lobby.
When I came back in, I showed my pass and walked through as usual, but the woman on the desk called me back. “Can I have your pass,” she said.
I gave it to her, not understanding why she suddenly needed to inspect it and she started writing down my membership number.
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
She didn’t look up, but grumpily remarked, “You were using your mobile in the library.”
I said, “I wasn’t. I was leaving the library so I could have a conversation on my mobile.”
She looked at her colleague, “He was using his phone wasn’t he John?”
The pudgy-faced and miserable man remarked, “Yes”.
Neither of them looked me in the eye.
I said “I started talking as I was leaving the library. That’s hardly using the mobile in the library. I am yards away from anyone working and they couldn’t have heard.”
In fact we were making much more commotion by simply having this conversation. But they didnÂ’t listen to me and although I thought about arguing I couldnÂ’t really be bothered. It reminded me of those occasions you get in trouble for doing something at school, but are in fact innocent (for once) but thereÂ’s nothing you can do to prove it. The security guards were being self-important and going by the exact letter of the rules in order to make themselves feel important and brighten up their humdrum lives. ItÂ’s a shame, cos most of the fellas who do the job are very personable and like to have a laugh with me over my bag of personal books which are all to do with the penis.
I donÂ’t know what my punishment is. I am guessing itÂ’s not serious as they gave me my card back immediately. But I still feel aggrieved because I was trying to do the right thing and was made to feel like a naughty little boy (you know, in a bad way)
I suspect if I commit this terrible crime again that I will get into trouble. But maybe IÂ’ll get back from Australia to find the place festooned with photographs of me, with "Do not admit" written across them. Or possibly they'll be a burning effigy of myself in the lobby and I will be chased out by librarians shouting "shush" (on the delicious irony). Or maybe an old woman will come to my desk next time IÂ’m in and tut at me. Quite loudly. The worst punishment of all.
