This morning, I awoke to the sunlight and a hungry cat. After about 10 seconds, I realized that those two things mean that I was NOT on time for work. After I finished cussing like a sailor and flying out of bed (practically literally), I called my supervisor to let her know I’d be in as soon as humanly and traffic-wise possible. (Fortunately, I was able to work through lunch to make up the difference.)
Finally, after a fast, frantic, and furious preparation to forge on to the office, I remembered something:
A former colleague was always on time (always in this case is not extreme language). If she were going to be out for any reason, she would let us know as far in advance as possible, even for sick days (calling in at 2 a.m. while still hanging over the porcelain throne). Timeliness was one of her many virtues.
One morning, she wasn’t in the office. At five minutes after the hour, she wasn’t there and no one had a message of any kind from her. At ten after we starting fearing the worst. By a quarter after I called her home. Our conversation went something like this:
She said, “Hello?”
I said, “Hello! How are you today?”
She said, “I’m fine, but it’s Saturday so I’m sleeping in.”
I said, “Are you sure it’s Saturday?”
She said, “Of course! The alarm didn’t go off.”
I said, “Are you sure it’s not earlier in the week?”
She said, “Today is Saturday! Why are you calling me?”
I said, “Because it’s not Saturday. It’s Thursday.”
She said, “No silly, it’s Saturday.”
I (who is NOT a morning person) said, “Would I be up at this hour on a Saturday?”
She was silent for a long while.
Then she said, “I’ll be in as fast as I can get there!”