NO WAY, JOSÉ BY EMILY NAISMITH
You know those people who are painfully early to everything?
The ones who arrive at your barbeque while your aunty is still fi lling
a bowl with Cheezels? The ones you have to entertain with super-
awkward conversation because you haven’t hooked the music up
to the speakers yet? Yeah, they have the right idea.
If your invite says 2pm, they’ll be there at 2pm (or maybe 2.10pm,
depending how long they can sit in their car out the front before the
anxiety of being ‘late’ gets to them, despite the fact no other guests
will arrive for at least another 40 minutes). I speak from experience.
Hi, my name is Emily and I’m chronically on time. It’s OK, I’ll just help
your housemates arrange the prosciutto on the antipasto platter...
you keep clearing the table.
‘Running late’ is a foreign concept to me. But before I launch into
my tirade, there’s an important distinction to make between being
late and ‘running late’. Being late because of a circumstance out
of your control (such as your pet corgi eating a bunch of grapes
and needing to go to the emergency vet) is unavoidable – I get
that. But running late because you haven’t got your shit together?
That’s just plain rude.
Being on time is simple maths. You take the time you need to be
somewhere, then subtract how long it will take to get there – that’s
the time you need to leave. Then, from that time, subtract how long
it’ll take you to get ready. Get this: that’s when you need to start
getting ready. You know you’re going to stand in the shower for 15
minutes contemplating your existence, so factor that into your mental
schedule. If you’re always running late, it shows you can’t plan and
manage your time properly.
Whether it’s a party, job interview or date you’re running late for,
you’re basically saying, “My time is more important than yours, and
I don’t respect you.” It cuts deep, man.I’ll admit, being chronically on time can easily veer into being
chronically early, especially in high-stress situations. Take airports.
I once arrived at an airport hours before it opened. I’m not just talking
about a closed gate or check-in desk – the literal airport terminal had
chains on its doors, so I sat in the gutter and read a book for an hour
or two (OK, it was two). In my defence, it was a small airport in Spain
and I didn’t trust the bus system, so I factored in missing four buses
and still being there in time to make my fl ight. The fi rst bus got me
there fi ne. I’m fun to travel with.If you’re constantly running late, it’s likely your less-tardy friends have
strategies to get you places on time. I’ve lied to friends about what
time gigs and festivals start, so by the time they have fi ve outfi t crises,
stop for a coffee and miss the train, we’re all still punctual. (Note: this
usually only works once, before they fi nd out your master plan and
tease you about your time obsession forever.) I’m fun to party with.A few years into our relationship, I converted my boyfriend to my
obsessively punctual ways. I’m not exactly sure how I did it (most
likely, it involved cracking it regularly and lots of sulking), but he gets
it now and is rarely late. I’m fun to love.It’s clear I have issues – I know. But I’d rather be anxiety-ridden,
polite and on time than running late and goddamn rude. It’s fi ne,
I don’t expect an invite to your party. But if you do take pity and
invite me, you know I’ll be there in time to help ice the cake.eleanor robertson and emily naismith
debate whether running late is OK.
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