What are your feelings about being on time for work?
Faithful Reader Paula H&B has been a, you know, faithful reader for something like 92 years. She might be the funniest commentor, and don’t get mad at me cause you know she’s funny.
The point is, on social media, she’s been complaining because a coworker of hers keeps showing up at 9:00 on the dot. The coworker’s start time? Is 9:00. But she’s a new employee, and it’s irking H&B that she’s not getting there a few minutes early.
The second day that H&B commented on this, and people were all, Yeah, wow, that sucks, I said something. I believe it was sensitive and understanding, and really opened up the dialogue so we could have a measured discussion. It was something like, What the fuck is up your ass, for god’s sake? She’s there on time.
My job is a creative job, and we have flex time, and while technically I’m supposed to get there around 8:30 it’s really closer to 9:00. When they switched bosses on me, I asked my boss if that was something that was going to annoy him and he said no. I stay past 5:00 as a rule, and I certainly work nights and weekends if there’s extra work, but me being there at 8:30 or 8:50 makes pretty much zero difference, as no one is champing at the bit for me to get anything done right then. My deadlines are almost always for 5 p.m. on whatever day, or sometimes a chilling 2:00.
I never miss deadlines.
So, in my opinion, and I say this because it’s how I am, if one is bad at mornings, if one has to pill a dog and feed him and let him out and feed two other cats and then schlep down the hall and feed a kitten–just to throw a random scenario out there–and shower and put on makeup and try to squeeze one’s enormous, never-weighed-this-much self into clothes and incidentally blog, if one is bad at managing how long these things take, but one gets all her work done, hoooo care if she’s late?
But H&B has serious feelings about getting in a little early, and my strolling in whenever would give her seven heart attacks.
Now, when it comes to lateness in life, that bugs. I used to be friends with a woman who was always, always late. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I hung around, waiting 20, even 40 minutes till she deigned to show up.
Being late when your friends are waiting is akin to saying, “My time matters more than yours.” And I assure you that what was taking time was her hair. I assure you. She was part of my past taste in women friends: The Nervous Perfectionist. I have no idea why the NP was my type for awhile, but it was.
I moved on to the Charismatic Narcissist, and have also gotten past that and now I seem to favor the More Practical Than Me But Still Funny woman, which seems to be a good fit for me. Lilly, The Alexes, Kaye, The Other Copy Editor, The Poet.
Anyway. There was quite a bit of discussion on this on H&B’s poor Facebook page yesterday, so I wondered what your thoughts were on getting to work on time.
I gotta go, I’m late for work. Bah.