Today, I approached the quiet room with a sinking feeling. I could see two women, older than me, smiling and taking a selfie in the two armchairs they had dragged to a table. When I sat down, I gave them a few minutes to settle, but they just got louder, laughing and joking like they didn't have work spread out on the table.
I said, "I'm sorry, ladies, but this is the quiet room. There are public study rooms available." Wow, if looks could kill, amiright? Luckily, I am impervious to dirty looks as they angrily gathered their things and stuffed them in bags.
I expected them to mutter something passive or not-so-passive aggressive when they left, but they didn't. Maybe they're just waiting for me in the parking lot. I guess "quiet room" means different things to different people. In my defense, the rules are posted right outside.
Now, I just have to deal with African Nurse typing on his phone with the keyboard sounds on. Of course, he had been sitting and listening to those women for who-knows-how-long and was no help whatsoever when I kicked them out. Maybe he's deaf. I'm a little jealous.