Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?

Yes. Yes I do.

And YOU’RE LATE, Mister New Guy.

I hate being tardy. Hate it worse than bad veggies, worse than insulin injections, worse than the fact that Spanish television has beautiful women for Sergei and ugly men for me.

My family brought this on me. My parents purposely set all the clocks in the house 5 minutes ahead, a mental psych-out that somehow got us to work and school and church and 4-H on time, even with a few minutes to spare. We got the best seats, the freshest food, the self-obsessing glee at noting who was late.

So I grew up in a time-jumped world. And now in my house, all clocks, watches, and VCRs have the time set 5-10 minutes fast. (And I hate that I can’t change the time on the cable boxes or the caller id. Control freaky-girl.)

I like being early.

And now we jump to work.

My company has a very liberal flex-time policy. VEEEERY liberal. Core hours, the times you MUST be here, are 10 a.m. to 3 p.m., with 2 hours allowed between those times for lunch. Any time you want. As long as you put in 40 hours a week. Fridays, you can leave as early as Noon if you have your time in. Some people come in at 6 am, work until 3 with no lunch break, and work 4 hours on Friday. Some come in at 9, work until 6, take an hour lunch. It’s really up to each person to figure out what works best for them. And it’s a sweet policy.

Until you start abusing it.

Then the malenky little hairs on my neck stand up and I sincerely just want to punch you, and not a friendly shoulder-punch, but more a fist-to-jaw punch, the kind that rattles your head-cage, the kind that makes you afraid of me and willing to do what I ask. Not being a violent person, I hold the punch-reflex inside my belly until it explodes in exhausted-mom sighs and then I have to tattle on you.

The new programmer we hired a month ago is constantly late. Okay, we hired him even though he was LATE to his FIRST interview with us. Half an hour late. And he didn’t call to let us know that he would be late. He was late to his second interview. Late to the luncheon to introduce him to our department. Late late late. He’s a good programmer. But the lateness thing has wrenched my panties in a bunch that sticks in my crack.

Last week the boss was on vacation. New Guy didn’t show up until AFTER 10 a.m. EVERY day of the week. So several of us made notes of when he arrived and calmly, politely, squealed on him to the boss this week. Because that crap MUST stop.

Now look. If you can’t get your sorry ass outta bed by, oh, 9:30 a.m. and throw on clothes and get to work by 10, then you need more alarm clocks. You need your wife and three kids to kick your sorry excuse for a working-class ass outta bed and get you here ON TIME. ‘Cause you know what? You’re still technically on probation. For two more months. And even though you’re a good worker, you’re not HERE when we need you to be. And we can fire you with that cause alone. It took you 6 months to find THIS job, are you really so willing to let that go, because you are lazy and slothful and ignorant and rude?

TEN AY-EM.

Is that so bloody hard?

11 Comments:

At 12:21 PM, Anonymous Bugg said...

God, I HATE it when people are late. It drives me bat shit crazy!
Oh, please tell me that you get to say something to him, something snarky and semi-threatening.

 
At 1:12 PM, Blogger Maine said...

Sorry I'm late commenting on this. Traffic.

Um... yeah. Get up on time, folks!

 
At 2:36 PM, Blogger annush said...

dude if you fire him, you should totally hire me. I would LOVE to have a job with that kind of flexibility!!

 
At 2:45 PM, Blogger Lost said...

My ex was like that - always always late and it really used to burn my toast. People who knew him when they were inviting us anywhere would tell him we had to be there at 7 when it actually started at 8. He calls it Jamaican time lol.

 
At 3:34 PM, Blogger Beltane said...

I don't think its the actual lateness that gets in people's nerves. It's the laissez-faire attitude that naturally goes along WITH the lateness. They don't care. They don't care that you care. They are fat and happy with their lives and how they run them and remain blissfully impregnable to your tortuous anal-sticking undies.

That is what gets under everyone's skin. Their own perfectly happy self-importance.

 
At 6:14 PM, Blogger Mad Munkey said...

No offense, but did anyone talk to the guy before they squealed on him? What a harsh crowd...

That said, I freakin' hate people that are chronically late. My last girlfriend usually at least an hour late. And she started sucking me into it... Oh, hell NO. It's pure ego. It was on her part and se admitted it... She didn't care if she kept people waiting... Whatever... off my soapbox.

 
At 8:10 PM, Blogger pinky pinkerson said...

why IS it that the women on spanish tv are so incredibly hot, and the men are always dressed in sailor suits carrying big lollipops?

(i'm so glad you said something about that)

 
At 10:01 PM, Blogger Pisser said...

You stick-up-the-butt pantywad people will never understand why us chronically late people are chronically late. It has to do with bats...and the voices.

That being said, I could show up at 10 ay-em with bells on. I cannot show up at 8 ay-em. I will happily show up any time in the pee-em.

 
At 10:55 PM, Blogger Mona Buonanotte said...

Bugg: I'm a pussy, and haven't said anything...yet. My M.O. is saying something sly and cutting disguised as something funny that when they get home they go, "Hey! I think that was a put-down!" But I like snarky. I'll have to try that.

Maine: Whew! I'm glad you're all right! I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere! Next time, call!

Annush: I would LOVE to hire you! And yeah, it's a cake schedule! Cupcake, even!

Lost: I had a friend like that in college. We resorted to lying about times we had to be places. We felt kinda bad about it at first, then it totally worked, so we enjoyed the lies!

Beltane: I want to smack that attitude offa his face! He came in today at exactly 10 a.m. with a pint of weird tomatoes and told everyone ALL DAY LONG to eat them. Maybe he just bugs me in general....

Mad Munkey: Actually, the week that the boss was gone and Late Guy was...well...late...a co-worker with a management title pulled Late Guy aside and told him to cut the crap, and that he was gonna tell the Big Boss when he returned. Which he did.

Pinky: Yea! Sergei *claims* to watch Spanish tv to 'learn Spanish', but all he can do is say "Sabado Gigante" in a baritone, and 'Ay chihuahua!' when the hot chippies come on. And I get the guy in the fake teeth and real receeding hairline. Parity! I want parity!

Pisser: Before kids, I used to get there at 6 a.m. HAH! Now I'm lucky if I get there by 8:15, bleary-eyed, helplessly clutching a cuppa coffee and some sort of meat. (Damn Atkins.)

 
At 6:53 PM, Blogger your fiend, mr. jones said...

I would've commented sooner, but, you know, traffic...

 
At 1:19 PM, Blogger Vaard said...

i am sure your conmpany would be happier with an incompentent programmer that was on time than a compentent programmer who was always late....

as long as he gets his work done, who really cares?.....

i wish people would worry more about their own jobs and duties than other people....

and no, i am not a late person, like you, i set my clocks ahead and am almost always early to appointments.... i also worry about myself and dont spend all day worrying about other people business....

 

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