The time. The time is such a relative concept. It differs so much from one another yet, those 60 seconds of a minute are exactly the same for everyone. No exceptions. Except on the management you take to use it on your benefit. Or not.
Besides those school years, I always had this thing with time. It’s a commitment you made, not only with the other part with whom you arrange to meet at that time, as is a commitment with that invisible institution that set and put your days marching.
When I was working as a journalist, if it was said that the press conference or whatever would start at time X, I would be there five minutes earlier. The event itself would probably start 15 to 20 minutes after the time agreed. If not later. Even aware about the late handicap inherent to the people, I’m always on time. And I tried to be late. Just to not have to wait that long. And still or I get right on time or, even if I’m late, which is NEVER more than 10 minutes, I have to wait.
Sometimes I’m sickly precise. When I sometimes arrange to meet a friend in half way so she can carpool me, I say to her: “the train will arrive at 6:15 with 3 minutes walking if no one gets on my way, I’ll be there at 6:18”. The stupid part is that I’m with no rush and I sometimes find myself speeding the steps just to not fail the time. And yet, when I’m there: I have to wait.
On the other hand, last week I went to help on the restaurant where I live. It’s a 30 seconds walk from home. I entered and the owner said “Xeka, you’re finally here. I was going crazy. I thought you had forgotten.” I was two minutes late. “You could always call me” I concluded.
With all this bends of time, I just don’t know what annoys me the most. The fact that, even when I try to get late, I get on time, with the acknowledgement that I’ll have to wait, or, the fact that I’ll have to wait because the other side won’t, obviously, be there on time.
Created: Apr 26, 2017Xeka Document Media