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When it comes to being late
When I was growing up, I remember my dad's impatience whenever it came time to pack up the family and go somewhere.
When he was ready to go, he was ready. Getting to his destination early gave him more time to stand around and visit with anyone and everyone who would take the time to talk to him. That habit is still evident.
Never mind that my mom had to gather up four kids and all their security needs (blankets, bunnies, bears and snacks) -- if he arrived anywhere five minutes early, he considered himself to be 15 minutes late. Thankfully, for our mom, we've all flown the coop and she can skip bringing the blankie.
Whether it was church, bowling or a family gathering, it was important for my dad to be the first one there.
That's a philosophy I had adopted in my earlier days. I always enjoyed getting to work before the manager unlocked the door to the retail business I worked at. That meant I had 15 minutes to sit back, relax, and forget that my three-year-old was at the babysitters screaming his head off.
I looked down on the whole "fashionably late" concept. I knew that someone had to be the first one to arrive and I made every attempt to be known as punctual.
As I grow older, I seem to be getting slower. Now I consider it a miracle if I show up to an appointment before anyone has the opportunity to call the office and see if I'm coming.
It's not that I don't respect the people who are waiting around for me to take their picture so they can get back to their busy day, it's more that I've forgotten where I was supposed to be and when I was supposed to be there.
For those of you who have stood waiting on me, you might enjoy the incident I experienced a few days ago. Call it payback.
I had received notice a state official was to visit McCook regarding a duty of his elected office.
The meeting was schedule for 1:30 p.m. (it may have been 1:45, my notes are kind of scribbled on my calender.) I had been nervously looking at a site on the internet, trying to get all the information I could on his proposed topic of discussion.
I went to lunch and returned early to continue my research. My stomach was in knots, I had no idea what I could talk to this guy about. His discussion involved agriculture. I can't tell soybeans from sorghum or -- as was kindly pointed out the other day -- a steer from a bull.
The fact is, he allowed me more time to research than I actually needed. An hour after his scheduled appointment time, his secretary called to say he wasn't going to make it ... he had run over on his previous appointment and if he skipped McCook he could make up the time.
"What are we, chopped liver?" I thought to myself.
Understand, I wasn't exactly happy with the idea of sitting around for nearly an entire day learning about something I will have absolutely no use for in the future. As has been pointed out by co workers, friends and family and is sometimes evident in my attempts at forming cognitive thought, I seem to have a limited brain capacity and I could surely have used that space for something more useful.
Then I began to feel a little sympathy for the gentleman. The state of Nebraska, with all its spending, obviously doesn't provide its employees with cell phones.
Then it hit me. I have put people in that very same position. My fury began to wane and my more forgiving nature took over. "Hey, we all have that kind of day," I told myself. "You know how hard it can be to get away some time." So being the forgiving person I am, I've decided that next time he's in town and stops in the office to visit, as was promised by his secretary, I won't pretend I'm not in and go running out the back door.