Here I am waiting…Again! I once tried to calculate how many
hours I’ve spent waiting but my calculator doesn’t go that high.
Oh, the hours I have spent in the waiting rooms of doctors,
lawyers and hairdressers. Do they think their time is more valuable than mine?
I’m a professional, too. Perhaps I should bill them at my hourly rate.
I understand emergencies (I’ve been one) and a client who
has more questions than anticipated (mea culpa) and a day blowing up because
one salon client is late (never me). What I don’t understand is keeping people
waiting as a way of life.
Some of the people I love most have a flexible relationship
with the clock. I know this about them and have come up with many ways of
coping. Some are obvious, some not. Don’t bother asking, I won’t give away my trade secrets here lest they read this and catch on.
Given the traffic conditions in Los Angeles, most everyone
allows a ten-minute window of waiting. Somehow I manage to get wherever I need
to go on time. And I’m time dyslexic! I can’t tell you if something happened a
week ago or two months ago. I can quote conversations; I just have no concept
of time. But I am punctual.
Last week I sat in a restaurant 12 miles from home. It was
twenty minutes after the agreed upon time. The acquaintance I awaited picked
the place, the time and, I believe, lives 5 minutes away. He requested the
meeting because he needed a favor. Did he think this Fairy Godmother would be
inclined to wave her magic wand and grant his wish after he’d been so cavalier
with my time?
I expected him to stroll in with some tried and true excuse
– a last minute phone call or L.A. traffic or the dog ate his date book. He
used the “I lost track of time” excuse and gave me puppy dog eyes. What? Was he
the dog that ate his date book?
If you can’t meet me on time at least come up with an
entertaining story. My faves are: 1) I remembered I wasn’t wearing underwear
and had to go home. 2) There was an accident on the way here and I had to stop
to call 911 and a woman went into labor and I had to help and when I went back
to my car it had been towed. 3) A naked guy popped out of the stairwell in the
mall and I was so horrified I had find security and they made me fill out a
report while the guy dressed and left. And the Grand Prize winner is: I
couldn’t remember where I parked my car.
So here are some suggestions gleaned from years of
experience (and mother’s etiquette lessons). If you have to be somewhere, don’t
answer the phone on the way out. If you’re on the phone when it’s time to go,
excuse yourself. Anybody worthy of your time will be considerate of mine. If
you have to stop for an emergency, get stuck in traffic or misplace your car,
call me, text me, email me. We have these wonderful new devices now. Unless, of
course, you can’t find your cell phone. Then I don’t even want to know you.
You need to get somewhere at a certain time. So how hard is
the math? Figure out how far you need to go and add extra time. Done! As for
date books, most people use electronic devices now…with backups! Set your alarm
for the time you need to hit the road. And if you are early (and haven’t lost
your cell phone), there are some great apps you can use to pass the time.
So friends, please show up at the appointed hour. It’s so
much easier than coming up with those same lame excuses, isn’t it? And please, professionals
instruct your office to schedule your appointments more realistically.
OK, I’ve got to go now. Don’t want to keep my date waiting.
