So far

All week I've been arriving around 10 minutes late. No one says anything.

Yesterday I was an incredible 15 minutes late, and still no raised eyebrows. Hmmm. I, myself, feel horribly guilty (as well as tired) and I imagine all the secret angry thoughts my coworkers must have behind my back. (or in their heads.)

So last night I went to bed early (10 - 11 PMish) and even set my alarm clock earlier -- 7:15 AM. But somehow or another -- maybe it was hitting the snooze button a couple of times, or the natural sluggishness from being sleep-deprived -- I don't know -- I arrived at my usual 8:10 AM.

And who's leaning against the doorway, waiting for me.

Chad.

Oh, boy. Here it comes. I brace myself for an embarrassing "respect our timeclock" kinda thing, but instead he asks if I candrivehimtopickuphiscar?

(Chad mumbles.)

"What?" (You're not mad at me for being late again?)

"Could you give me a ride over there to pickupmycar?"

"Oh -- OK, sure -- let me just put my things away."

I race to my desk and throw stuff down. No time to let him think I should've been ready by now.

I meet him in the lobby and we head to my car.

He's somewhat silent, and I think he's preparing to let me have it about all this lateness in the car, in private. I steel myself again.

But nope. In the car we talk about Invision matters. (Invision -- a company that screws up every purchase order / invoice / shipment collection / dealing whatsoever that we have with them.) So we talked about the latest Invision crisis and it dawns on me -- he's just not a time-conscious guy. In fact, I think he might feel a little uneasy about pawning a ride off me. Ahhhh...

I make quick to make him feel comfortable. Here, put on music. My Jimmy Fallon CD blares. Unfortunately, it's the "drinking in the woods" song. (It's hilarious. But I don't think Chad appreciates the partial lyrics thrown at him -- "puke by a tree, pee in the woods, and you get poison ivy all over your ass -- you're drinking in the woods") Yaaaaa. So I quickly tone that down. What the poor guy must think of me now.

General small talk ensues, I drop him off at the car tune-up place, expecting him to pick up this big lumbering old gray van of his, but instead he gets this shiny red new hot lookin' thing. Where did that come from? It must be his wife's.

I was very good today (no doubt fueled by guilty thoughts about being late so often) so I did all my work, straight through, no stopping to email / blog / fiddle around / etc. Now I can blog at work with a clean conscious. The only thing left I can think of to do ...hmm..shred papers.