The world is full of snobs. You know, the kind of people who give you a long look from head to toes, lift up their noses, turn their heads away just to never talk to you again. People who for some strange reason think that you are inferior to them. Maybe because you have less money than them, maybe because you’re above size 10 or do not know how to dress properly. My high school class was full of these: tiny little girls with their heads so full of crap that they failed to realise they looked like complete idiots. One of them, Johanna was her name, spent most of her time complaining about not getting the highest mark in one of the languages we were studying. She was also very often caught not having a clue about the meaning of the more advance texts. Us geeks got the perfect opportunity to give her little, bright smiles. After all, we were decent enough not to laugh at people straight to their faces. The same girl, when she saw me in her living room hanging out with her brother, gave me the same respectful look she would give a cheap sausage, turned around and walked out of the room without saying a word.
Of course, snobbery is degrading behaviour. And more so for the snob herself than for the person being snobbed at. At the end of the day we all have the same needs and wishes in life, so there is nothing admirable or cool in judging people for whatever reason that might pop up into your head.
Anyhow, I think there is a little snob in each of us. Something that we would like to pride ourselves with, something we do to look better than other people. I'm a total snob when it comes to education and to books. Not everyone needs to have a university degree, but the ones who do should go for the highest marks and best universities. If you're going to walk down that road, why not do it properly instead of just giving it a half-hearted try? My book case in Finland is a legend; it´s full of Russian masterpieces, Albert Camus, Franz Kafka, Imre Kertesz and god knows what else. Books that I enjoy and that I love. But all those books hidden in boxes in the garage were just as, and sometimes even more, entertaining than the high class literature. But they belong in the boxes because they might lead people to think that I'm a ditzy romantic with no greater goals in life than getting married and living happily ever after. The rest, all the way from Paradise Lost to Master and Margarita, will send signals to the random visitor that I'm a civilized and educated person with great insight into the more philosophical questions in life.
So are you a snob?