How Did It Get to Be 'OK' for People to Be Late for Everything?

I stumbled across this article recently and I couldn’t agree more!

Baring an emergency, the only time I will happily accept lateness is when TTC and AF hasn’t made an appearance, and if she was simply late for no reason I will be pissed! Seriously though, it drives me crazy that people just don’t seem to care. Someone I work with actually leaves his house at the time a meeting is supposed to begin in the office… and no, I am not exaggerating! I have always been punctual; this is the way I was brought up and I don’t think that it is too much to expect from others.

As always, I have edited for length. The full post first appeared on The Savage Truth.

… I don't care if I sound old-fashioned, because actually it's nothing to do with 'fashion' or 'generation'. It's got everything to do with basic good manners and respect for other people.

So here goes... How did it get to be "OK" for people to be late for everything?

Because as far as I am concerned, it's not OK.

In recent years it seems that a meeting set to start at 9 am, for some people means in the general vicinity of any time which starts with the numeral '9'. Like 9.30 for example.

People drift in at 9.10 or 9.20, or even later. And they smile warmly at the waiting group, as they unwrap their bacon sandwich, apparently totally unconcerned that others have been there since five to nine, prepared and ready to start...

And an arrangement to meet someone for a business meeting at a coffee shop at 3 pm, more often than not means at 3.10 you get a text saying 'I am five minutes away' which inevitably means 10 minutes, and so you wait for 15 or 20 minutes, kicking your heels in frustration…

And it's not only business.

Why do people, invited for a dinner party at 7.30, think it's cool to arrive at 8.30? It's rude. It's inconsiderate. And it's selfish… Three "ladies who lunch"… were chatting loudly at the table next to me. One inquired what time the 'drinks do' was that night. The reply for all the world to hear was 'Oh 7.30, but we won't get there till 9 because by then it will have warmed up and all the interesting people will have arrived'. Nice. Imagine if everyone took that view. Cocktail parties would start at 3 am eventually.

Or a dinner at a restaurant where I was meeting two other couples. My wife was away, so I was flying solo. I arrived at two minutes to eight for an eight o'clock booking. At 8.20, I was into my second glass of Pinot and at half-past I got a text saying 'on the way'. We finally were all seated at 8.45. There were not even attempted excuses from either of the two couples, who seemed oblivious to the fact I might actually have got there at the agreed time. Meanwhile I had put a huge dent in the bottle of Pinot, and was ready to go home.

And it is not that we lead 'busy lives'. That's a given, we all do, and it's a cop out to use that as an excuse. It's simply that some people no longer even pretend that they think your time is as important as theirs. And technology makes it worse. It seems texting or emailing that you are late somehow means you are no longer late.

Rubbish.

You are rude. And inconsiderate...

Me? Am I ever late? Sure, sometimes. That's inevitable even with the best intentions. But I never plan to be late. I never 'let time slide' because my stuff is more important than yours.

I am not talking about the odd occasion of lateness. I am talking about people who are routinely late. In fact, never on time. You know who I am talking about!...

F*ck Cancer

For reasons that are not completely clear to me, we always celebrated my father-in-laws birthday on December 2nd, but his birth certificate listed the 17th as his actual birth date. On December 17, 2013 my father-in-law turned 64 and my sister-in-law gave birth to our second niece; officially, they shared a birthday! They were released from the hospital the following day and while everyone was ready to race over and visit, I wanted to give them space… but I am so glad, for once, that we didn’t wait. 

Just a few days later, my father-in-law ended up in hospital with side effects from an aggressive chemo treatment. The effects were so bad, he was there straight through until New Year’s Eve. He was released from the hospital around dinner time, but he was re-admitted about 24 hours later.

I don’t want to list all of the details here, but he never left the hospital again. That last week was a rollercoaster. Initially we were told he may go into palliative care so DH flew home from California immediately. And then they gave everyone hope with the talk of radiation. But lastly, they suggested morphine and said it was only a matter of time… less than 10 hours to be precise. 

On January 17th, 2014 he lost his battle with cancer. Just one month after his 64th birthday. He did not go down without a fight, and he was as stubborn as ever. His extended family visited his bedside all evening, and his immediate family stayed through the night. I still don’t know how I coped with it, but I stood by while DH held his hand even during those last few breaths. And somehow watching him die, relatively peacefully, brought closure and I am happy that I fought my fears and stayed there – both for him and for DH. 

This was not how we wanted to see him go. It wasn’t his time. He didn’t deserve this, and neither does his family. I understand that his pain is over now, and he will no longer suffer, but I wanted him to meet his grandchildren… our future children. I wanted him to be a big part of their lives, and it makes me so angry that he will not have that opportunity. He won’t get to see the son that he raised become a father… and that devastates me. He would have wanted to be there, and it won’t be the same without him.