One thing I hate (I know, one of the many) is being late for stuff – so I’m pretty much always on time.
Actually, that’s a lie. I’m always early – sometimes by stupid degrees. I don’t mind being early, I’m happy with waiting once I know I’m where I’m supposed to be, and I’ve always got a book or my phone with me, so I can be doing stuff once I’m there.
Even with the conference I was at a couple of weeks ago, I was daftly early. I came into London, and then walked down from Euston to Westminster, and still had an hour-ish to kill before we were let in. But both days were pleasant days, so I didn’t mind the walk, nor sitting outside and reading. Yes sure, I could’ve left an hour later and still been on time, but in my experience, then there’d have been delays, things would’ve gone tits-up, and I’d have been stressed about it.
If I’m early, I don’t get stressed – it’s more just about being where I’m expected to be, and from there, *shrug*.
I don’t expect anyone else to do it – although I have previously been in situations where we ended up being competitively early (if two people are pathologically early for stuff, and one knows the other gets there first each time, they want to be there before, and it all just escalates until it gets silly) and while I appreciate it if the people I’m meeting are on time, it doesn’t bother me if they’re not.
My earliness doesn’t force itself on others, and really I don’t mind even if those people are late (within reason – being chronically late all the time will annoy me, for example) – it’s more about “Well, I’m where I need to be” and that’s it.
There was going to be a point to this – but I’ve forgotten it. Hey Ho.