If you’ve ever met me…it was probably 10-15 minutes after we intended. I’m notorious in the tardiest of ways….
Confession #1 I’m the theatre patron who watches the first scene from a tiny screen in the lobby, who the usher brings in with a flashlight at the first set change. This is distracting to the audience, distracting to the actors, it’s shitty, shitty theatre etiquette. I’m super aware of all that and still have arrived at 8:15PM for no good reason.
Confession #2 I’m the birthday girl who almost misses her birthday party because it’s on a boat and boats set sail at certain times. I ended my 28th year crying in the back of a cab convinced I was going to miss the boat, cursing myself for always being late. Well, the boat left way later than I arrived. Which apparently I took as a sign that my chronic tardiness could continue.
Confession #3 I’m that interviewee who shows up sweaty. Not because I’m nervous but because I had to run half a mile to make it on time. Everyone knows you’re supposed to be 10 minutes early for an interview. I shorten that to 2 minutes. 90 seconds early and I still consider it a major victory.
Confession #4 I’m that date who makes you nervous you’ve been stood up. I’ve never stood anyone up. I can also count the number of dates I’ve actually been on time for on one hand. Sorry fellas. When we’re both equally late….OMG we have so much in common!
Confession #5 I’m that blogger who says “Tune in tomorrow!” and then fails to publish the post until 10PM (or sometimes not until the next morning)! This is the worst. Let me offer a sincere apology to anyone who has ever waited on a promised post from me. I swear I’ll never do it again, from henceforth “Tune in next time!” or “Tune in later this week!” are as specific about time as I’m ever going to get.
Confession #6 I’m that friend you’ve considered lying to about the start time of something. Do it, friend, lie to my face. Hey, if I actually arrive on time for once, it’ll teach me a valuable lesson.
Confession #7 I’m that book lover who avoids the library. I’ve spent hundreds more on library late fines in the past decade than I have on actually buying books. There’s a part of me that is paranoid my name is somewhere on a library black list. A part of me that feels like the lions judge me every time I walk by them. They can tell. “We know what you are. An abuser of this amazing public service! If we could spring to life and maul you, we would!”
Confession #8 I’m that commuter who expects the subway to run perfectly. Every New Yorker knows the MTA never runs smoothly. I always hope for a Subway Miracle. This may be the definition of NYC insanity.
How about you? Are you a chronically late person? Or one of those early people who I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND?
To all those who I’ve kept waiting, believe me when I say I’M SORRY. It’s not that I don’t respect your time it’s that I have a problem. I know I’m kinda late in admitting it…but at least I finally got here!