Time personalities
My high school band director (who quit and became a priest) had just been discharged from the Army. He lived by the motto: “If you aren’t at least 15 minutes early, you are late.” I can remember him standing at the door, and if you arrived late, you got paddled. Up until the mid-70’s, corporal punishment in schools was the norm. Needless to say, once the first few kids got “the board,” a 15-minute early arrival became the norm.
He also had my parents require me to keep a very comprehensive hourly schedule at home. I had to account for every minute of my time before and after school. Decades later, I still can’t get over it. If I’m not 15 minutes early for a meeting, a dinner, or even a coffee, I’m a basket case. Some folks find that admirable. Others find it freakin’ bonkers.
My wife is not compulsively punctual, but after all these years, she knows what to expect from me. She married a punctuality freak. She mostly shakes her head.
It makes me nuts when someone doesn’t care if they’re late. They casually stroll in smiling, Starbucks in hand, completely clueless about the fact that the rest of us have been checking our watches for a long time. And when you point it out, they shrug, like you’re the unrelenting task-master.
For years, I found this behavior disrespectful. But then I came across an article by Emily Laber-Warren in The New York Times, where she described your “time personality.” Her story about Anne Kelsh hit me like a ton of bricks. Kelsh’s husband asked for dinner to be served at 6 p.m. sharp. For her, 6 had the “-ish” ending on it. She told him, “I married you — I didn’t join the Army.”
Well, I guess I had joined the Army — the 15-minutes-early band Army — and I never really got my discharge papers.
She wrote about the anthropologist Edward T. Hall, who, back in the 1950s, described “monochronic” people (that’s me) as folks who see time as a straight line of blocks where we do one thing, then another, and another in neat order. Then he described “polychronic” people, who see time as more flexible and bending to relationships and circumstances.
You don’t have to be in Brazil or Germany to see this divide. It shows up everywhere. My monochronic self is in the car far too early for a 6 p.m. dinner reservation. My polychronic friends will text “On my way” at 6:10 p.m. while still looking for their keys in the kitchen.
Monochronics get mad when interrupted, but polychronics see interruptions as opportunities. They love those impromptu chats with a neighbor. How do you say, “Arrrrgh?” Monochronic people usually finish what they start and rarely miss deadlines. That’s the good news. Unfortunately, they can miss the joy of spontaneity. Polychronic people seem to thrive on chaos and multitasking jobs.
If adaptability is the real trick, I will try not to melt down if we don’t arrive 15 minutes early. I’ve even been seen walking in on the dot, and the universe didn’t collapse.
Still, it makes me really tense when I’m around people who think time is optional. And don’t get me started on doctor’s offices — I ran hospitals, I know the reasons, but my inner 15-minutes-early Army self still wants to scream. It’s probably the ghost of Father Tom and his paddle that’s hanging over my mudslide-shaped butt.
So, in my old age, here’s where I am: No matter if you are sitting in your car so early that you’re waiting until 5:45 p.m. to go in, or you’re the one skipping in at 6:15 p.m. with a story about the homeless guy who looked just like your cousin, you’re not broken. You’re just living your time personality.
I’ll always be early. You might always be late. I’ll forgive you — but understand you? Nope.
Nick Jacobs lives in Windber