Better late or whenever? Time for a heated debate…

THE mayor of Nashville has written a letter for ice hockey fans to give to their bosses.

The Nashville Predators are fighting it out for the sport’s most coveted trophy. A late night game is involved.

In an attempt to drum up support, the mayor drafted the letter for fans to give to employers excusing their lateness at work the day after the game.

It sparked a heated debate among The Sunday Post team.

Are those who always run late selfish?

Or do those left waiting for them, drumming their fingers in frustration, need to chill out?

Here, two of our writers with very different views argue it out…

“I find the always-early so weird”

ALI KIRKER

If you’re one of the people I’ve kept waiting over the years, I’m sorry. It’s annoying.

I didn’t mean it.

Not once, out of the million times I’ve been a bit belated.

I think it’s a medical condition. It’s something within the always-late that is genuinely hard to stop.

I’ve written before about how I love getting up early. I’m annoyingly up with the lark, and as chirpy as those lovely songbirds.

Again, sorry.

But getting up early makes no difference. No matter what appointment I have, you can guarantee I’ll end up running late, my stress levels will rocket and I’ll turn up sweaty and mad-eyed. Such a good look.

Then I say to myself, never again.

Until the next time.

I find the always-early so weird.

Why turn up early for an interview and get all nervous about it?

Why would you hang about on the coldest day of all time, waiting for the bus?

Wouldn’t you rather sprint along the street, as fast as your legs will carry you, then make the bus with a whole 10 seconds to go?

You’ll get some exercise, bring a glow to your cheeks and you’ll feel like you’re beating the system.

OK, I’m not sure how, exactly, but it’s true.

The funny thing is, if you’re the type who is constantly late, you often find yourself in a relationship with an other half who, annoyingly, must be early.

Meal booked for 7pm?

Let’s get there for 6.30pm and wait in the pouring rain until the restaurant opens!

Wedding at 3pm?

Let’s arrive at, ooh, 2pm, to make sure your hair’s blown about, your hat has ended up in a bush and your heels have stuck in the grass.

When we argued about this in the office this week, the very punctual among us told me it was arrogant, selfish and not cool to be constantly late.

It’s probably true. But it certainly isn’t deliberate. And you lot aren’t so perfect, either, smug earlies.

I honestly don’t start my day by thinking: “Great, I’m meeting my friends tonight. I think I’ll annoy them by being 10 minutes late.”

It’s just the way I’m made. Pretty sure it’s genetic.

Yes, it’s my parents fault I’m always keeping them waiting.

In the interests of fairness, they’re fairly punctual types. These incurable conditions often skip a generation, though, don’t they?

Ironically, my lovely wee gran used to say to me I’d be late for my own funeral.

Funny thing is, I was late for hers.

Look. It’s not my fault they closed the motorway, is it?

And that’s another thing. It’s always someone’s else’s fault, never mine.

“We’re why man went to the moon”

STEVIE GALLACHER

OUR planet is made up of a wonderful rainbow of cultures, each with their own traditions, customs and social mores.

Or so you might believe.

Scientists have in fact have divvied us up into two distinct groups that transcend the barriers of politics, language or even gender.

It turns out you’re either monochronic or polychronic.

The monochrones value organisation, doing tasks in order.

They believe time is a commodity and, since commodities are valuable, they don’t like to steal it by being late.

The other group are the polychrones. They believe time cannot be controlled, and plan life around events, not the clock.

They’ll turn up to a meeting, maybe, unless they’ve decided to watch the end of Frasier because it was really funny.

Once they get to the meeting they’ll take things off topic because, despite having to be somewhere else, they need to talk about how they once saw a puddle shaped like a bee.

Are they late for coffee? That’s because they presume you’ve been caught up in the same type of rubbish they’ve been distracted by, like watching a busker sing The Flintstones theme.

You might feel robbed of the valuable 45 minutes it took for them to turn up but polychrones, flighty and free-spirited, don’t see time as a commodity.

With industrial quantities of caffeine coursing through your veins from the four macchiatos you’ve bought simply to fill the time, you might make an effort to chastise them.

But they’ll just look at you without comprehension.

It’s like trying to teach your cat how to parallel park – they have neither the ability, nor the will.

You may harbour some sympathy for these folk but I’m convinced the rise of the smartphones is due to latecomers.

No one could see the point until they were left standing under the clock at the train station, waiting for their ever-late pal, after which even Twitter suddenly becomes tolerable.

Those who are on time might seem like boring old sticks-in-the-mud, but we are the reason humans visited the moon.

Do you think meetings at NASA start half-an-hour late because the astrophysicists have all stopped off at Auntie Joanne’s for a chat about her guttering?

No, because if they wandered in late to Mission Control, Neil Armstrong and the gang would have missed the cue to fire their boosters and would have shot off towards Alpha Centauri.

It’s not rocket science. Oh, you know what I mean.