ACADEMIC coffee rooms have the same sort of biodiversity as rainforests and
coral reefs. They represent a bewildering collection of knowledge and experience
held in a dynamic series of informational niches.
Naturally, it follows that many of the best coffee rooms have grown up
organically rather than being the creation of some higher force. Attendance at
these superior venues (often hidden in the bowels of the building behind a door
marked “S013: Sample Store”) is by invitation only. Here rank and status are of
little importance—although the senior technician usually lays claim to the
sole armchair.
No, in these hidden sanctums, what really counts is the skill of conversation
and building shared worlds. So long as you also change the filter and wash out
the jug when you empty the pot, don’t leave solid milk in the fridge and refrain
from breeding fungi in your mug, you’ll always be welcome.
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In these days of the increasingly Draconian, industrial process-driven
university, the habit of coffee drinking is viewed more as a sign of weakness
than a vital social activity. Sitting around chatting to people takes up time
when you should be working. And as for informal coffee places hidden from
official view . . . Look, if you have to drink the foul stuff, get it from the
machine. If you have to talk to people, jam the phone between ear and shoulder
so you can carry on typing.
Now, the Internet is almost as fast as a coffee room when it comes to
checking facts—and I’d hate to be without the global contacts that I’ve
made. But where there are judgements to be made, there is a real risk of getting
wildly inappropriate (or even physically impossible) advice from some crazed
misfit who you have never met and, perhaps fortunately, never will. Much better
to build a personal network of people whose skills you know, whose experience
you can judge, and whose influences you can balance.
Eavesdrop for a moment on the conversation in SO13: Sample Store . . .
Jim: We’ve been having a look at the depletion rates over the last few years.
They look very weird.
Sue: Weird how? The only reference figures are from Eric’s PhD and he spent
three years caffeined-out of his skull.
Pete: Yes indeedy. Well, there is the set that Dave put together in the
90s—and they’re certainly about half as high again.
Liz: You’d expect them to be, wouldn’t you? All his sites were in the
tropics, and most of Jim’s are temperate.
Pete: And don’t forget that Eric and Dave would have used the old-style
analyser. With that ceramic sensor that kept on breaking. So you’ll need some
truly bizarre fiddle factor if you’re going to compare the numbers directly.
Jim: Aaargh! Thanks. Maybe I’ll have another look at them. Perhaps they’re
not really that weird after all . . .
Sue, Liz, Pete, Jim. All free thinkers who understand their colleagues’
idiosyncrasies and the value of good coffee. So, hands off the coffee room.
Otherwise we could end up taking advice from a weirdo out in cyberspace who
dunks biscuits in his tea.