For us, lateness is a national disease. After all this is the country that invented the concept rubber time. I read somewhere the concept went way back to an era where most of people were still farmers, who viewed time as something fluid that flows like a river (huh???) rather than blocks of schedules and appointments to be filled. It’s the westerners who introduced the concept of “being on time” to us.
It’s so common here that 10 o’clock meetings start as late as 10.45. And the people responsible for that will stroll in leisurely, always blaming something other than themselves for being late. Now, I don’t want to be a prude here but I find that kind of irresponsibility really lame.
Blame it on my western education, blame it on my impatient genes (if impatience is gene-related like everything else these days) but I hate to be late. And hate it even more when people make me wait. And I never get used to the rubber time concept even though I spend the bulk of my life living here, in this country. I only lived abroad for three years out of the 36 years of my life so my “westernized” concept of time is not a product of my living abroad. I am just wired that way.
I do not understand people who are constantly late. Why? Because I always know when and why I am running late. It’s usually because I slack off. I wake up leisurely, I take my time sipping my coffee, I am enjoying my morning banter with hubby so much I don’t want to cut it off to get into the shower on time, etc. The point is: being late is a conscious decision. Unless an earthquake suddenly erupts as we are getting ready for work or for our appointments, the only thing to blame when we are running late is ourselves.
When I know I have a 9 o’clock appointment, it’s either I wake up an hour early or I cut those morning activities short to be able to leave the house at 8. Because I don’t want to be late. As simple as that. On the days I have no appointments or deadlines, I stop and smell the roses.
People blame it on the traffic. Now, how many years have we been living in Jakarta? Jakarta is always congested. Traffic is no news. It’s something that we have to anticipate. I have no car so I depend a lot on the undependable taxi service here. 80% of the time they never show. I know that. I have an option: I could take an ojek. Reliability: 100%. Comfort level: 0%. I will arrive sweaty and smelling like car mufflers. But I won’t be late.
So when I make that decision to wait for the freaking taxi instead of taking the ojek, I know I will be late. When I make that decision to wait for the freaking taxi, I am basically saying screw my schedules, screw the people who have to wait for me, because I don’t want to sacrifice my comfort in order to arrive on time. Because if I want to, I can actually arrive on time.
So moral of the story is: EVERYONE should be able to be on time. Yes, even those who are living in Jakarta. I can tolerate people who are late only if they have major drama in life: abusive husbands threaten to kill them, depressive wives hanging themselves or jump out the building, a dozen of hyperactive kids coming down with chicken pox at the same time, crazy ass mother in law chase them with an axe the night before… you get the picture. But the mortals, common people with common lives and common problems, should be able to be on time, like 90% of the time at least.
Now, there were times when I spent the night drinking and drugging myself into a stupor and there was no way I could make it to the 9 o’clock meeting. What did I do then? I quit my job to be a full time fuck up. That way, I won’t get in anybody’s way. That’s responsibility I believe. Now that I managed to get my act together, I got back on the game. And I arrive on time. And on occasions when I am late, I won’t blame anyone but myself.
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