On Being Late

A few days ago, I had a meeting with some folks I’m looking to possibly do some business with. I was given an address and directions, and I looked them up on mapquest as backup. Unfortunately, the address I wrote in my note had a couple numbers transposed—my fault in writing or their fault in speaking, I don’t know. I couldn’t find their office until I was about five minutes late for the meeting. That’s annoying and embarrassing.

First thing this morning, I had an important meeting with the same folks as a couple days ago and some new folks. I had tried to look the address up on mapquest, but mapquest was having problems displaying the map images. So I had to leave without a map. The directions I was given were just slightly off, and I couldn’t find the street I was supposed to turn onto. A couple phone calls got me some landmark information, and I eventually got going in the correct direction. I was almost 20 minutes late for the meeting.

I hate being late for anything. I always try to be on time if for no other reason than it is just polite and respectable. It drives me crazy when someone else is late for an appointment with me. Even when I’ve got two kids to drag along, by myself, I manage to be on time for most appointments. I don’t like being late, for any reason.

I was busy last evening, so I wasn’t able to write today’s blog post. I also knew I’d be tied up this morning and so wouldn’t be able to write it until noon or later. (I try to post my daily stuff by 8:00 a.m. each day. But I don’t get paid for this blog, so it has to take a second place behind things I do get paid for.) When I post late I get an email from my mother “reminding” me. Sorry, mom.

I hope I’m over my late fever of this week. It just bugs me to be late, for anything and anyone. Apologies all around.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com