Punctuality. I have trouble with that word, the meaning behind that word. Maybe it’s because I didn’t want to exit from my mother’s womb. They had to romper fuente, as she tells me, because I was sitting pretty, way too comfortable swimming in my sac.
As an adult, I realize that my issues with punctuality are, in fact, an issue. I am usually late to functions, events, and work. Work even more so as I do not care for my daily. Yet, I am on time, punctual even, when having to meet writing deadlines. If an editor states I must submit a piece by June 13th, it is in her Inbox on June 13th, sometimes even earlier. But that is because I love writing. It truly is my first love. Now, my daily? That’s another story.
This past Saturday, I was 3 hours late to work. I set my alarm and turned it off in my sleep, exhausted from writing the night before. I stayed up late working on my website and my action plan. Those were my priorities. Yesterday, due to my lateness, I had a meeting with my manager, and surprisingly, my manager’s manager. I wasn’t informed he would join us, but alas, there he was, closing the door behind him after walking into the office. “You have an issue with lateness,” the Teen Program Manager exclaimed. I nodded, agreeing with her statement. I may be tardy, but I am not a liar. The meeting continued in this fashion. They accusing me of being tardy and setting a bad example for the students in our program. I agreeing, nodding, though my Teen Program Manager was 5 minutes late to my punctuality meeting. Toward the end, I apologized. Expressed that it was not my intention to turn off my alarm in my sleep. I am only human. I also pointed out how I’ve improved over the course of three months. “In my 3 month review, you stated punctuality was a problem,” I said, addressing the Teen Program Manager. “And as you said in my 6 month review,” I continued defending myself, “I haven’t been late once which shows improvement.” It was her turn to nod and agree with my statement. “I am only human,” I repeated.
With that said, the meeting was officially over. And now I sit here at work, in front of a computer screen, killing time with this piece as I, and my other co-worker, wait for the Teen Program Manager to arrive. My work phone suddenly buzzes. I reach for it, grab it from my black H&M handbag, and read the text.
“I’m running late due to a train delay. We will begin at 11:45am.” 15 minutes after our staff meeting was supposed to start. 5 minutes the day before, 15 minutes today.
Punctuality. I have trouble with that word, the meaning behind that word, especially when the reprimanding boss is hardly ever punctual.