This will come as a surprise to no one, but I always have to be early or at least on time.
Yes, I’m obsessed with Natalie Dee lately.
This is often to my detriment, as 98 percent of the population is apparently not this way, which means is I end up hurrying to wait. This in turn causes extreme frustration, occasional cursing and the creation of several voodoo dolls. Yet I still insist on being on time for things.
Because, well, OCD and schedules, but more importantly, because it’s simply respectful.
On a professional note, I’ll just say that deadlines are not suggestions people. You are not a special snowflake. That sense of entitlement and lack of respect is rude and frustrating.
In my personal life, I feel the same way. If you tell me to be ready at 6, please be there at 6. While I understand things happen, making me wait 30 minutes or more is grounds for violent behavior. By the time you show up, I will be too bitter and annoyed that you couldn’t get your shit together to be fun.
That will be your fault.
This is also why I always prefer to be the picker-upper and not get picked up. At least I can sit in your driveway and honk the horn like the crazy person you have forced me to be.
This annoyance is most prevalent in appointments—doctors, dentists, hairstylists, etc. Again, I understand things happen, but there is no good reason for them to happen every single time.
But I think dentists and doctors have figured out we’re annoyed with this and have devised their own plan.
The time spent in the waiting area has been cut down significantly, and at first I was excited to be called back to my own little room rather quickly. However, this was before I realized I was put there so when I freaked out over waiting 45 minutes it would be in the privacy of an exam room and not the public waiting area.
Side note: Please don’t tell me to read a magazine, as those things are like public petri publications full of germs and nastiness. You might as well lick a toilet seat.
But I’ve devised my own revenge.
I fill the time looking for fun little things I can take as a memory of my excursion. This obviously can’t be done somewhere like a hair salon where going through the drawers and taking bobby pins and shower caps would be frowned upon.
But if you’re stuck in an exam room for more than 40 minutes, you can legally take things like Band-Aids with cool cartoons characters, cotton balls and stickers given to good little patients.*
*I read that on the Internet—right after I wrote it—so it must be true.
Inevitably the same nurse who has avoided me for 40 minutes will walk in the one second I’m looking for a tongue depressor I can make into a little stick man, but whatever. At that point I no longer feel like talking about whatever I went there to talk to them about anyway, even if my head is about to fall off, so why not at least walk out with an art project?
I know, I know. Patience, not petty theft, but if everyone would just stick to a schedule—preferably mine—I wouldn’t be faced with this problem.
Remember that at the end of the day, it’s about respect.
So if you insist in being late on multiple occasions, there’s a good chance I will either sit in your driveway and blast the horn or steal your cotton balls.
That will be your fault.
Timing is everything.
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