On the Town

Please Don't Keep-A Me Waitin'

“What are you talking about? You’ve never been late in your life,” my husband yelled at a recent dinner party, ruining the punch line to my story and causing my friends to howl with laughter. I can’t remember anymore what the story was about, but those who know me can appreciate the part about never being late. For me it’s a compulsion. When it comes to being on time, I just can’t seem to help myself. “Of [ital]course[ital] you’re never late,” a contemporary once explained to me. “You’re a deadline journalist, for God’s sake. What do you expect?”

He has a point. That must account for why I’m usually first to arrive at a party, first at the movie theater, and so anal over hosting a dinner party that I have all the food cooked by noon—not so good when you’re serving roasted chicken. I’ve actually tried to make myself be late, or at least not early. I’ll be dressed for an event and then sit and watch the clock, clutching my chair, until I feel that an appropriate amount of lateness has passed (usually about 20 minutes before a dinner that’s five minutes from our house). When smoothly arriving at the restaurant, I’ll inevitably hear, “You’re the first in your party to arrive. Would you like to be seated now or wait at the bar?”

Perhaps I have it all wrong. Instead of feeling like I’m at fault for being so timely, I need to get more upset at the chronically tardy. As far as I can tell, the only thing Aspen residents will not put up with is lateness for a skiing or hiking date. Show up 10 minutes after the proposed meeting time and you’re history. No quarter is given for the typical excuses: “I couldn’t find a parking space,” or “My United flight was late and they lost my luggage and now I’m stuck in the driveway.”

You’ve all heard the arguments from timely people about the rudeness of those who are always late: “It’s like they are saying their time is more important than mine.” True, but I’ve found that bringing up that old adage does little except create defensiveness. “Well, sorry, but my child threw a tantrum when the babysitter showed up, then he broke his leg, and then the dog got sick.”Or, “The traffic on 82 is just so terrible, and then that deer jumped into my windshield.” The excuses are endless—and often transparent. Just tell the truth. “My golf game ran late.” Or, “Sorry, I was finishing my emails and then had a pedicure. Then I looked at the clock and realized I was supposed to be at your house. But I had to wash my hair first, and I couldn’t find the outfit that I wanted to wear.…” Whatever.

Enough about what I think. I decided to do a little research to see what the experts—prominent psychologists, students of etiquette, and advice columnists—have to say. Bear in mind, these are their words, not mine.

First of all, the definition of “late” means “after the expected time” or “deceased,” an excuse I would have to find legitimate. The first study I came across was conducted in association with San Francisco State University. It claims that being on time “consistently shows everyone around you that you are the master of your life,” while the chronically late “suffer from higher-than-average anxiety, depression, and lower self-esteem.” Tardiness apparently distracts some people from these negative emotions. Ouch.

Another article accuses latecomers of being “Time Bandits,” people who have “questionable and even faulty conceptions of time commitments, scheduling, and time management.” It adds that certain cultures appear to be “chronically laid-back and late,” something that anyone who has invited a South American to dinner would never dispute. This same article claims that certain astrological signs tend to run late, though whoever wrote it couldn’t remember exactly which ones. “Libras, perhaps?”

My personal favorite is the piece that tucks lateness under the arm of social graces.  This is about people who want to make a splashy entrance, “using their lack of punctuality to show their status.” These types of characters show off their importance by “having other people wait for them, clearly saying, ‘You’re not important to me.’” Sit solo at a lunch table at the Nell sometime and watch as an already late friend table-hops till he or she finally reaches you, and you can empathize. Well, this article goes on to warn that this will eventually backfire, and it advises everyone to “wait until the moment’s just right, then stab that high-and-mighty loser in the back.” I’m assuming that’s meant figuratively, but it does paint a satisfying picture for those of us like my friend who once arrived at a dinner party promptly, only to have the hostess show up an hour and a half late. Apparently there was an art exhibit she just [ital]had[ital] to see. That’s really how to show you care.

In the end, I don’t know if it’s possible for someone who is always late to be on time any more than I can make myself not be early. These theories give us something to consider. As for me, here’s a tip: You’ll know I’m really upset when the first words out of my mouth are “Do you happen to be a Libra?”