A few nights, less than a week later, I was out again and paying little attention to the time. I distinctively remember noting the time was 22:18 and I probably should go home soon. But another part of me knew I didn’t want to face what awaited me at home. The difference this time was I had my cellphone with me and the text messages demanding to know my whereabouts started around 22:30. A friend picked up my phone and read the message but it wasn’t in English so I got a good laugh listening to my friend try to pronounce the foreign words.
Now, with some jobs, it didn’t matter if you were a few minutes late, but this was shift work. The telephones were staffed 16 hours a day and we needed full-time and part-time people to make up the shifts. One person would be scheduled to arrive when another person was going off shift. So, I advised her, one of the important parts of her duties was to arrive right on time. Well, Monday comes along and doesn’t she arrive a half-hour late. I met her when she arrived and her excuse was she had to drop her daughter off at school and had left the house late. I reminded her that being on time was vital and she said she wouldn’t be late again.