Tuesday, July 11, 2017
SLICE OF LIFE
What can I say? I am the daughter of a salesman. My father ingrained in me, from the time I was a very little girl, that you show people that you respect them by being on time. That it's rude to be late. That it's disrespectful of others. His watch was always set ten minutes fast. As far as I know, no one ever waited for him.
When we went places as a family, my father would tell us what time we were leaving, and then he would be in the car fifteen minutes before that. He'd give us about five minutes, maybe honk the horn once, and then he would leave us. We learned early on never to be late.
I guess I have continued that habit even as a adult. I never thought it was a big deal. I always have a book, and if I get somewhere before everyone else, I sit and read. It works perfectly for me.
What can I say? I am an on-time kind of gal.
I didn't know other people paid that much attention, until a few weeks ago. I was meeting my friend, Laura, for lunch. That was the week that a father from my school died. I was trying to coordinate things between a lot of different groups- teachers, our PTA, and a district budget person. I got a phone call right as I was walking out the door, and ended up being about five minutes late. Not that big a deal, but totally out of character for me. So out of character that three minutes after I was supposed to be there, Laura called, wanting to know if she was at the right place. "You are always early," she said.
And I had to agree. I am an on-time kind of gal.
About a week after that, I was teaching a class on a Saturday morning. I guess I have a reputation there too. When I teach, I make a point of arriving an hour ahead of time. I like to make sure the computer is going to talk to the projector or SMART board, set out my handouts, review the agenda, etc., before anyone else gets there. I don't mind if I'm ready half an hour early. I'd rather stand around for 15 or 20 minutes than be rushing around at the last minutes. I'm an on-time kind of gal.
That particular Saturday, though, I only got there about 50 minutes ahead of time. I've been going to Weight Watchers on Saturday mornings. I figured out that if was at WW when the door opened, I could weigh-in, and still make it across town to teach in plenty of time. I wasn't worried, but evidently everyone else was. When I got to class, 50 minutes early, the coordinator met me at the door.
"Are you ok?" she asked.
"I'm fine. Why?"
"Because you are never this late," she said.
What can I say?
I am an on-time kind of gal.