First, I shall start by admitting I am not the world’s most punctual person. In fact, to be quite honest, I have a fairly flexible attitude toward time-keeping. I will make an effort if it’s important to the other person, and I am always on time for work. This apparently makes me the annoying kind of late person because I am only late when it suits me. (Although missing public transport does not suit me – and I do that often enough).
I don’t wear a watch. In fact, I haven’t worn one since last time we moved and it got packed in a box, not to be uncovered until a good three months later – by which stage, I was eleventy months pregnant and it wouldn’t go around my wrist any more. I sort of got out of the habit not wearing it for six months or so, too. But hey, mobile phone has a clock on it, and as long as I remember to take it with me, it’s all good. The Bloke doesn’t wear a watch either – apparently he’s good at losing them so has given up in disgust. He also carries a mobile phone – which doesn’t stop him from asking ME what the time is! (I don’t know darling, I will just find my mobile phone and look at it shall I?)
But today, I would like to discuss other people’s ideas about punctuality.
In my previous incarnation, I worked in an industry where people were expected to a) make appointments and b) show up to these appointments on time. This was all very well as a concept, however PEOPLE were involved. People who were generally visiting my former employer for reasons often not unrelated to their dubious time keeping abilities. This meant that they would (more often than not) not show up on time. But then insist on being seen because they had an appointment…
I don’t mind so much waiting at the Doctors surgery for the doctor to finish up with the previous patient – I hope that the doctor will give me the same level of attention when it’s my turn. However, when I am first cab off the rank… the first patient for the day and I still have to wait – THAT is another issue entirely!
The Bloke of the House is Mr Last Minute. He does other things right up to the point where I would like to start getting ready – then jumps in the shower! This is annoying on several fronts, the main one being that I take longer to get ready than he does, therefore I should shower first; the other is that he also (without fail) tells me off for keeping everyone waiting. Once, he asked me why I always took so long to get ready. I replied “Because I not only have to get myself ready, I have THREE CHILDREN to organise as well”. Oh. Ok.
Then, when we were half way to our destination…
“Three children? We’ve only got two children…”
Yes. We do, don’t we?
The Outlaws are never ever ever on time. They are never on time for ANYTHING. In fact in the last ten years, I don’t think they have ever arrived at the requested time for a single solitary thing. But they are never late. They are worse than late. They are always early. Fifteen minutes early, to be exact. And fifteen minutes is the exact amount of time I need to get myself showered, hair-dryered and face on when I am leaving things to the last minute. This – as you may have gathered – is what I have a tendency to do on a very regular basis. Therefore, The Outlaws often catch me in the state of not quite ready-ness best described as bare and nekkid. This is always greeted with much hilarity and eye rolling and guffaws and statements such as “oh, you are not dressed. We’re always catching you out”. Which as you can well imagine goes down about as well as a cup of warm sick.
I wonder if they’ve realised why we always invite them to things at decidedly peculiar times these days…
Mrs Archer is one of those people who worries if she’s kept waiting. (She’s also one of two people I will make an effort for – but she is my mother, and we all do lots of things for our mothers that we wouldn’t consider for other people!) She has also become accustomed to my rather flexible attitude to timekeeping and will tell me when I MUST be on time. I appreciate this, and as a result try my darndest to remove the ish-factor when meeting my mother for anything.
The Offspring appear to be even more flexible than I am when it comes to keeping time. The Big Kid is not so bad, however, the Little Kid is going to find himself dragged kicking and screaming out the door bare naked one day soon if he doesn’t get his finger out! Astonishingly, when confronted with a deadline of insane proportions – they managed to get dressed, teeth cleaned and beds made and out the door in under five minutes. Of course, this will never happen on a normal day… We have to leave home before 8am for me to be at work on time at 8.30am. In a perfect world, we walk out the door at 7.45am. However…The world is NOT perfect.
I content myself with the thought that I am going to be driving my childrens around for a rather long time, and the time will come when they need to be somewhere on time… I am also a Very Patient Person bwhahahahahaaaaa!
