Tardiness

I hate tardiness. I hate being the tardy one and I do my best to be on time for things. Barring that, if someone is expecting me and I know that I'm going to be late, I try to reach them so that I can let them know that I'm on my way but am not going to be there on time.

To me, tardiness - whether in the workplace when someone is late for a meeting, or home when you're waiting for a babysitter to arrive, or when you're meeting up with others for a road trip - tardiness says to me that your time is more important than mine and that you do not respect me. If it comes with an apology, that helps, but it really should be prefaced by communication, especially if you're able to let me know before the expected time comes and goes. And if it comes with neither a forewarning nor an apology, you've pretty much sealed my opinion of you as rude.

I think that's why I go crazy when Rachel's dawdling results in another late school arrival. I don't like being that person and hate when the departure time hinges on a willful 6-year-old choosing to get ready to go. Although Rachel was not the reason for today's tardiness, thank goodness.