Tim Sackett hates people who snore on planes. He's right. He also thinks it's a form of dramatic low self awareness that shows you shouldn't hire that person. He's right there, too.
Let's face it, the guy/gal (I've sat next to both on planes!) who dozes off and snores at 5 decibels has given up on life. They know they snore because they've been told that at home, yet here they go.
Here's my best snoring at work story:
The year is 1994. I'm an assistant basketball coach at UAB, fresh out of college. In college sports, you have roomies on the road. I bunked in the same room as another assistant who was a snorer.
The first year on the road (think 15 road trips) was incredible hard, I didn't sleep much. I was young, so I survived. Then I learned the secret.
What you have to do to a heavy snorer you are sleeping near is interrupt the pattern, take them out of Stage 4 REM sleep. If you go over to the other bed and shake them, well, they know you've woke them up and then you have to deal with the why. The tenured assistant in question was kind of my boss, so I had to find another way.
1994 was a different time. There wasn't as much ink on domestic violence and violence in general. Good thing for me, because my solution could have been misinterpreted as a distress signal.
Here's what I did to the assistant in question. I would yell - not as loud as I could but at 60% of my volume - for 2 seconds.
The quick yell broke up his REM pattern. I learned I had 10 minutes to get to sleep before he would be back to the heavy snoring. As you know, the hardest thing to do is sleep when you're focused on the fact you have to get to sleep. Thus, my average was 2.4 yells per night on the road to get to sleep. Once I was asleep, I was good. He never knew.
Security never came to our room. Your boy's gotta get his rest.