I’m late!

For as long as I can remember I have always been on time.  At some point in my childhood my parents instilled in me the importance of being on time.  To them being on time was a sign of respect.  I quickly learned to return home from friends’ homes on time.  I made sure I was on time coming home from school.  When I was in college and my flight was late I would call home and let my dad know.  Too many times in the past I saw my parent’s disappointed faces when my older brother or sister came home late or came late to events.  I wasn’t going to be “That child”.  I was always on time for my parents.

Not only is being on time something that showed my parents that I respected them, being on time is something I could control.  In a world where I couldn’t control the weather, the traffic, my children, or my spouse, I could always control my timeliness.  I could work to make sure that I was always on time (as long as the weather or traffic didn’t hold me back).

When I started my career I was always on time for meetings.  I remember at one of the first offices I worked at in Utah I was known for always on time for meetings.  One day I was late, for a meeting I think I had an earlier meeting that had run late.  When I finally arrived at the next meeting late everyone in the room had a look of relief on their faces.  “We thought you might have passed out somewhere”, one of them said.  Clearly I had a reputation for being on time.

Recently I purchased a set of theater tickets and planned to go see the show with 2 friends.  I had yoga teacher training earlier in the day and I let my instructor know I had to leave training early to ensure that I made it to the theater on time.  Luckily class ended early.  I quickly texted my friends to let them know I was on my way and to meet me at my home.

Driving home I thought about all the zen-like things we learned in teacher training.  Interrupting those thoughts were thoughts of how I needed to get home quickly so I could scarf down something to eat before the show.

I got home about 5 minutes before my friends were scheduled to arrive.  I quickly ate half of a pre-made sandwich.  My friends hadn’t arrived yet so I went ahead and ate the rest sandwich.  I was pretty pleased that I had managed to eat the entire sandwich without being interrupted.  Then I looked at the clock.  My friends were 7 minutes late.  I started to worry.  The theater tickets were general admission.  Were we going to to get there on time?  Would we be able to sit together?

Time continued to tick by.  Once my friends were 15 minutes late I called one of them, J.  She said that M, our other friend thought I was going to pick them up.  “No!” I exclaimed.  “You guys should have met me at my house!.  Just meet me at the parking lot at Sizzler”.  I hung up the phone and ran out the door.  I imagined us late, missing the first scene of the play.  I sensed myself losing  control of being on time.  That feeling of losing control unnerved me.  I sped down the highway.  Once I arrived at Sizzler I discovered the parking lot was full.  I quickly called J again.  She didn’t answer.  I tried M.  Her phone went straight to voicemail.  I was stressed.  All that zen from yoga teacher training was draining out of my head.  I tried J again this time she answered. “We’re at the corner!”, she said.  I told her the parking lot was full and suggested we meet at the parking lot of Dunkin Donuts a few doors down.  She agreed.  I got to Dunkin Donuts and alas, the parking lot there was full too.  I drove away and called J again.  She remained calm (to my anxiety) and said they would park a block away and meet me on the street.  

I sat in the car waiting for what seemed like forever watching for them to walk down the road.  While I waited I thought, “We aren’t going to find parking at the show.  We’re going to be late.  By the time we get in we will have probably missed half the show.  What if they sell my will-call tickets?!”  That losing control feeling was nipping at my heels again.  Finally the 2 arrived.  M immediately diffused the situation by stating, “I’m sorry I really fucked up here”.  Wow.  I had nothing to say to that statement.

Luckily (or unluckily) M has a disability tag for her car.  So we placed the tag on my rear view mirror and off we went.  With the tag we managed to get a parking space right in front of the theater.  We ran inside and I went to the will call desk.  They informed me that all we had to do was approach the ushers- they had iPads with our names listed.   I was ready to head into the theater but M and J needed to visit the restroom.  I couldn’t believe it!  We might not get seats but they wanted to pee?  I looked around the lobby.  Actually there were many people milling about.  There was probably time for me to pee too!

After we all relieved ourselves we headed into the theater.  There were plenty of seats!  We were able to get 3 seats together and we weren’t even in the nosebleed section.  I felt foolish for making such a big deal about being late.  I felt bad about being angry with my friends for the misunderstanding.  All was fine.  

Honestly, if we had been later and we hadn’t found a good parking spot or we hadn’t found seats together or we hadn’t even seen the first sketch it would have been okay.  Being on time absolutely all the time isn’t worth the stress I give myself.  I need to remember that the next time I’m late.  As long as I’m not headed to the airport.