A Day in the Life of a Punctuality Freak
I am usually quite reluctant about sharing my thoughts on punctuality as I'm unsure about how well other humans can grasp the importance of time. But since you seem interested about my activities, I shall reflect on one of those days when nothing went as planned and it left me quite devastated.
June 13, 2015
I had considered changing my alarm tune the previous night – from the monotonous Nokia tune to “Time is not your friend” by Marco Pierre White – but my exhaustion after a long day had gotten the best of me. I blame my inability to do so as the reason why I slept an extra hundred and twenty seconds. Every five seconds, one child dies of starvation. Twenty-four children starved to death while I was sleeping!
I cannot fathom why our help always leaves making my breakfast down to the wire. “Five more minutes,” she says and I cannot help but notice the hint of annoyance in her voice (as if she's the one who is supposed be annoyed!). However, the pace at which the bread is being toasted is making my blood pressure skyrocket.
I have decided to skip the toast altogether and go for a banana instead. I have a feeling that I am not going to be late for class but time and time again, I forget I live in Dhaka and the chances of reaching somewhere on time are as slim as the dial of my watch. I wonder what's worse – the traffic or minions?
The only forty-five minutes of college I enjoy happens to be my Maths class, for my teacher bears an uncanny resemblance to the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. With his round, gold-rimmed glasses and pocket watch, he walks into class in a frantic rush, makes good use of the allocated time and dashes out as soon as the bell rings. It's terrible how my other teachers are so unlike him. With due respect, a thirty-five minutes class – during which they are 'fashionably' half an hour late – is definitely not worth my time.
I spend the afternoon finishing up my homework in the library while my friends make futile attempts to include me in their shenanigans, but I have to make every second count for every tick of the clock means I am one step closer to my deathbed. I plan on meeting my significant other at 0600 hours but judging from the way this day has been going, I already have a hunch he's going to be late.
Guess what, I was right. The fool does not even have the courtesy to call and inform me about his ten-minute delay. And just when I think I've had enough, he walks into the restaurant and flashes me a smile, as if he has done nothing wrong! There really is no hope for this relationship.
I do not know how time flies, especially when I'm stuck with someone who has a brain the size of a pea. I sprint my way back home, ignoring his insensitive advice to 'chillax'. The silence as I enter my home seems foreboding to me, although my father reassures it is fine. I make it a point to apologise profusely which worries him to some extent but does he not understand the severity of the situation? I have just wasted three hours and fifteen minutes of my life chit-chatting, when I could have potentially come up with a master plan that can change the course of the world for good!
Depression has taken over me, and with a heavy heart, I have retreated to bed. I have cautiously changed my alarm tune and said a silent prayer, asking for forgiveness for my unpunctuality. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.
[The characters in this article are fictional. Any resemblance to anyone in real life is purely coincidental.]
Shreyosi Endow is a tea addict who likes to read poetry and is obsessed with plants. Send her a mail at [email protected]