It’s been a long weekend—one you spent in Butler, no doubt. Re-join us as we continue to profile those library regulars who spent it with you. In this installment of Butler Archetypes, Carpal Tunnel Victim Conor Skelding takes a close look at just how many notifications the guy next to him has. 

Sketch from Louise McCune's dream journal.

He’ll give up anything, just to feel that rush.

New tab, f-key, return, c-key, down arrow, return, tab, password, return—inhale, pause. The moment it takes for the page to load stretches to infinity. Then, yes! God, YES, a notification! His brain floods with dopamine release.

We’ve all been there; Butler can be a sad, lonely, place. Who are you to judge the guy next to you for taking the edge off with a little Facebook action? We all do it in moderation, and it’s not as big a deal as people make it out to be.

But oh, no. With this guy, it will never be just be “a little.” He needs those little red boxes. He craves them.

Seeing a fellow human being go on like this isn’t easy for you. He’s fighting his instinct, fighting his brain which has not-so-sensibly determined that the immediate return of Facebook outweighs his paper. And the Reference Room isn’t a very friendly place—maybe a little human reinforcement, a head nod from you, will go a long way to curb his cravings. But you wonder… will he try to Friend you after?

And there he goes again! He’s waiting for the page to load. When it does, he’s disappointed, but tries to hide it. You can see him drafting an internal status; “No notifications? Whatever. Anyways, I just checked! How crazy is that. People value me. Back to workkkkk.”

Do they really, though? He’d better check, just one last time…