I went to a retirement party last night for a man who had been in sales for more than 44 years. Fellow co-workers and life-long friends stood to tell stories of the man and his commitment to doing things right for the company he loved. A certain theme repeated in each toast (roast); he was always on time. In fact, some went so far to say he taught them the importance of being punctual. They said relationships were better because everyone knew they could count on him to arrive right on time. Customers and coworkers planned their day around his. Sales were better because of the level of trust customers had in him; when he said he'd be there, he was - right on time. It was a real testimony to the power of timing and punctuality.
I've always worked hard to be on time. That doesn't mean I never fail, but I make a conscious effort to ensure others aren't waiting on me. We don't have a whole lot of time to spare between meetings and appointments and the tiny, yet important, moments that make up life; the last thing I want to do is waste someone else's. A college professor told our lecture hall once: If you're going to show up late to class, don't bother coming. You arriving late says nothing more than your time is more important than mine, and I have no use for people who think they are more important than others. I will never forget that. You shouldn't either. A dear friend of mine is notorious for being late. In fact, we plan girls' night with a clear understanding that Laramie will show up at least one hour after the dinner has started. We've come to understand this and usually have her order and beverage waiting for her when she arrives - if we remember. She is always hustling and bustling to get to her next destination, forever battling the clock and the forces of those two tiny hands that seemingly twirl against her.
That same dear friend was in a serious car accident two weeks ago. Like, a real doozie. In fact, when I finally had a chance to communicate with Laramie, I reminded her that every time we have girls' night, the next day she always says she feels like she got hit by a semi; I asked her if the actual event felt anything like that? Not sure if she laughed; it was over text. I learned shortly there after that if Laramie had been running just a split second later, her outcome would have been much worse. Scarily, sadly worse. So, I had to ask Laramie: The day of your accident, were you running late? Her response: "I, for once, was ahead of schedule." Looking back on how that morning could have unfolded, I believe she, for once, was right on time. And I thank God every day that August 26 was the day Laramie finally aligned her clock with the rest of the world. She lives to entertain us for a another day.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go jump in the shower and get some other things done. Dixie gets so moody if I drop her off at the farm one minute past 7:34. Lots to do, this little pup.
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