For as long as I can remember, when I’m not chasing people, I’ve been waiting for them.
My parents had drilled into me from young that being even five minutes early was as good as being late – a lesson I learnt after my dad once waited 10 minutes to pick me up. Just because I’d been dilly-dallying. Big mistake.
I only later realised this lesson hadn't been as universal as I thought.
All throughout polytechnic and university, I was often told to "chill" by groupmates whenever I pushed to finish a project way before the due date. I didn't want to risk eleventh-hour changes that would result in a late submission, costing us a fraction of our grade.
Over time, it became second nature to create buffer time around my plans to anticipate last-minute changes. So imagine my culture shock when I was in Switzerland about a month ago.
The Swiss are known sticklers for punctuality, but experiencing that firsthand made me feel right at home. Being told that a public bus would be arriving at 1.05pm, only for it to indeed arrive at 1.05pm? How refreshing.
Despite having evolved in many ways throughout a decade of working various jobs across different organisations, I try to remain just as militant about punctuality.
But more and more, this attitude seems to be in a diminishing minority. We've all gotten that "Sorry, still 15 minutes away" text. We've probably sent some of those ourselves. Even I've been guilty, especially if I know the other party will likely be late too.
With everyone instantly contactable now, last-minute rescheduling or delays are no longer a breach of social etiquette, provided you inform the other party beforehand.
Flexibility, in many cases, is now just another part of relationship management.
But why are so many of us increasingly content to give punctuality a pass?
If punctuality is nothing more than mechanical timekeeping, it's easy for us to write off lateness as just a disrupted schedule. We may even rationalise it by leaning on stereotypes about certain types of people.
Years ago, I moderated a panel discussion where some of the panellists were more than half an hour late to arrive at the requested time. With 20 minutes to showtime, the amount of time I had left to brief them on the conversation flow was rapidly dwindling.
To quell my anxiety, I asked the person-in-charge if he'd contacted them. Instead, he laughed sheepishly and apologised for forgetting.
While irritated, I was prepared to let it go – until he spoke again.
"Well, you know how it is. ADHD people and time blindness!" he quipped, referring to a common indicator of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, which he was open about having.
Because of the way they perceive time, people with ADHD often struggle to accurately estimate how long tasks take. This can often lead to chronic lateness or falling behind schedule.
Having been formally diagnosed with ADHD myself, I understood this tendency on a clinical level. But despite our shared neurotype, his comment felt less like an explanation and more like an excuse.
On one hand, him brushing off lateness as a default symptom of ADHD was an overgeneralisation, perhaps even problematic. Not all of us experience poor time management as underestimating how long tasks take – some of us overestimate instead and end up perpetually early.
Because of the way they perceive time, people with ADHD often struggle to accurately estimate how long tasks take. (Photo: iStock)
On the other hand, his attitude felt all too familiar. It wasn't the first instance I'd seen a lack of punctuality not just tolerated, but embraced and even expected.
A classmate, who was academically brilliant, once handed in schoolwork after the deadline, leading to an immediate deduction of 10 per cent off his final grade.
But because he still performed better than others, he reasoned that he could simply make up for tardiness with quality work. From then on, he continued turning in work late. I suspect he sometimes even did it on purpose.
I've observed a similar disregard for timekeeping among some so-called creative types too, where lateness often seems baked into their personal brand, enabled by the idea that flexibility fuels creativity.
And the infuriating thing is, it sometimes does.
Nonetheless, these justifications of lateness fail to consider that punctuality is never just about respecting other people's time. Our attitudes towards time reflect our values, priorities and even personal identity – whether we are aware or not.
This isn't a moral judgement of people who see time as fluid, to be clear. Even a punctuality hardliner such as myself can admit that there is no objectively right or wrong approach to time.
In the 1950s, US anthropologist Edward T Hall introduced the terms "monochronic" and "polychronic" to describe different cultural attitudes to time.
Monochronic cultures – such as Germany, Switzerland and Japan – tend to value deadlines, planning and sequential focus. Tasks are completed one at a time.
Meanwhile, in more fluid polychronic cultures, it's normal to shift gears mid-task. Relationships often take precedence over strict adherence to schedules and deadlines. Such cultures include those in Indonesia, the Philippines and the Middle East.
And although no society is entirely uniform, Dr Hall’s chronemic framing helps us understand our preferred ways of managing time and completing tasks.
You could simply be an "event timer" – someone who progresses at their own internal rhythm, transitioning between tasks when they feel the last one is finished. (Conversely, a "clock timer" uses external cues such as timers to schedule their actions.)
Still, there is no denying that the Singapore workplace – while placing value on relationships – remains largely monochronic.
"Event timers" who often find themselves running late may risk damaging their professional relationships and reputations. "Clock timers", on the other hand, may struggle or even refuse to empathise with those who don't perceive time in the traditional sense.
Many of my closest friends would be late to their own funeral, but our wildly differing time perceptions haven't coloured the reasons I love them or stopped us from finding ways around our differences. I often catch up on reading while waiting.
It’s a dynamic that works for us as friends. But we can hardly expect our bosses and colleagues to repeatedly give us the same allowances in a professional setting, where tasks must be done and goals met according to certain timelines.
As the line between personal and professional branding continues to blur, our relationship with punctuality can also suggest adjacent character traits, even if those impressions may not always be accurate.
Perennial lateness is frequently equated with laziness – they didn't put in "enough effort" to be on time. It's also easy to assume such a person thinks their time matters more than anyone else's, or that they don't care about the job.
These judgements may bleed into assumptions about their quality of work, even if proven otherwise: If a person can't meet a request as basic as arriving on time, can they really be trusted to consistently meet the greater standards their role demands?
Someone who's not strict about timeliness can also be seen as laidback. It may make it easier for others to approach them – or to attempt to take advantage of them.
On the flip side, someone who sticks rigidly to deadlines may be seen as unnecessarily stubborn or unwilling to accommodate others. To some, this feels just as disrespectful as lateness.
Prioritising punctuality may also suggest a fixed mindset, an overreliance on structure, or a discomfort with spontaneity or risk-taking to those on the opposing end of the spectrum – the sure kiss of death to creativity and innovation.
On its face, it’s an understandable assumption, but it couldn’t be further from my reality.
Clear, set deadlines or appointment times give me something tangible to work towards. Ironically, that structure allows me more creative freedom by easing my anxiety over time pressure. No longer is it yet another fluctuating variable, but a fixed factor more clearly defining the task at hand.
I'm far less rigid about punctuality now than I was 10 years ago, in favour of purposeful adaptability. Even so, I doubt I’ll ever be someone who "goes with the flow" nor do I want to be.
No matter how we try to cast punctuality in a different angle, we cannot hand-wave away the fact that what we do (or don't do) indelibly reflects something about who we are – and we can't always control what that something is. For me, it's less about showing respect for others, and more about upholding the standards I set for myself.
Grace Yeoh is a correspondent at CNA Lifestyle.
Continue reading...
My parents had drilled into me from young that being even five minutes early was as good as being late – a lesson I learnt after my dad once waited 10 minutes to pick me up. Just because I’d been dilly-dallying. Big mistake.
I only later realised this lesson hadn't been as universal as I thought.
All throughout polytechnic and university, I was often told to "chill" by groupmates whenever I pushed to finish a project way before the due date. I didn't want to risk eleventh-hour changes that would result in a late submission, costing us a fraction of our grade.
Over time, it became second nature to create buffer time around my plans to anticipate last-minute changes. So imagine my culture shock when I was in Switzerland about a month ago.
The Swiss are known sticklers for punctuality, but experiencing that firsthand made me feel right at home. Being told that a public bus would be arriving at 1.05pm, only for it to indeed arrive at 1.05pm? How refreshing.
Despite having evolved in many ways throughout a decade of working various jobs across different organisations, I try to remain just as militant about punctuality.
But more and more, this attitude seems to be in a diminishing minority. We've all gotten that "Sorry, still 15 minutes away" text. We've probably sent some of those ourselves. Even I've been guilty, especially if I know the other party will likely be late too.
With everyone instantly contactable now, last-minute rescheduling or delays are no longer a breach of social etiquette, provided you inform the other party beforehand.
Flexibility, in many cases, is now just another part of relationship management.
But why are so many of us increasingly content to give punctuality a pass?
IN DEFENCE OF LATENESS?
If punctuality is nothing more than mechanical timekeeping, it's easy for us to write off lateness as just a disrupted schedule. We may even rationalise it by leaning on stereotypes about certain types of people.
Related:
Years ago, I moderated a panel discussion where some of the panellists were more than half an hour late to arrive at the requested time. With 20 minutes to showtime, the amount of time I had left to brief them on the conversation flow was rapidly dwindling.
To quell my anxiety, I asked the person-in-charge if he'd contacted them. Instead, he laughed sheepishly and apologised for forgetting.
While irritated, I was prepared to let it go – until he spoke again.
"Well, you know how it is. ADHD people and time blindness!" he quipped, referring to a common indicator of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, which he was open about having.
Because of the way they perceive time, people with ADHD often struggle to accurately estimate how long tasks take. This can often lead to chronic lateness or falling behind schedule.
Having been formally diagnosed with ADHD myself, I understood this tendency on a clinical level. But despite our shared neurotype, his comment felt less like an explanation and more like an excuse.
On one hand, him brushing off lateness as a default symptom of ADHD was an overgeneralisation, perhaps even problematic. Not all of us experience poor time management as underestimating how long tasks take – some of us overestimate instead and end up perpetually early.
Because of the way they perceive time, people with ADHD often struggle to accurately estimate how long tasks take. (Photo: iStock)
On the other hand, his attitude felt all too familiar. It wasn't the first instance I'd seen a lack of punctuality not just tolerated, but embraced and even expected.
A classmate, who was academically brilliant, once handed in schoolwork after the deadline, leading to an immediate deduction of 10 per cent off his final grade.
But because he still performed better than others, he reasoned that he could simply make up for tardiness with quality work. From then on, he continued turning in work late. I suspect he sometimes even did it on purpose.
I've observed a similar disregard for timekeeping among some so-called creative types too, where lateness often seems baked into their personal brand, enabled by the idea that flexibility fuels creativity.
And the infuriating thing is, it sometimes does.
Nonetheless, these justifications of lateness fail to consider that punctuality is never just about respecting other people's time. Our attitudes towards time reflect our values, priorities and even personal identity – whether we are aware or not.
DIFFERING CULTURAL AND INDIVIDUAL APPROACHES TO TIME
This isn't a moral judgement of people who see time as fluid, to be clear. Even a punctuality hardliner such as myself can admit that there is no objectively right or wrong approach to time.
In the 1950s, US anthropologist Edward T Hall introduced the terms "monochronic" and "polychronic" to describe different cultural attitudes to time.
Monochronic cultures – such as Germany, Switzerland and Japan – tend to value deadlines, planning and sequential focus. Tasks are completed one at a time.
Meanwhile, in more fluid polychronic cultures, it's normal to shift gears mid-task. Relationships often take precedence over strict adherence to schedules and deadlines. Such cultures include those in Indonesia, the Philippines and the Middle East.
And although no society is entirely uniform, Dr Hall’s chronemic framing helps us understand our preferred ways of managing time and completing tasks.
You could simply be an "event timer" – someone who progresses at their own internal rhythm, transitioning between tasks when they feel the last one is finished. (Conversely, a "clock timer" uses external cues such as timers to schedule their actions.)
Still, there is no denying that the Singapore workplace – while placing value on relationships – remains largely monochronic.
"Event timers" who often find themselves running late may risk damaging their professional relationships and reputations. "Clock timers", on the other hand, may struggle or even refuse to empathise with those who don't perceive time in the traditional sense.
Many of my closest friends would be late to their own funeral, but our wildly differing time perceptions haven't coloured the reasons I love them or stopped us from finding ways around our differences. I often catch up on reading while waiting.
It’s a dynamic that works for us as friends. But we can hardly expect our bosses and colleagues to repeatedly give us the same allowances in a professional setting, where tasks must be done and goals met according to certain timelines.
WHEN BEING ON TIME IS NOT JUST ABOUT TIME
As the line between personal and professional branding continues to blur, our relationship with punctuality can also suggest adjacent character traits, even if those impressions may not always be accurate.
Perennial lateness is frequently equated with laziness – they didn't put in "enough effort" to be on time. It's also easy to assume such a person thinks their time matters more than anyone else's, or that they don't care about the job.
These judgements may bleed into assumptions about their quality of work, even if proven otherwise: If a person can't meet a request as basic as arriving on time, can they really be trusted to consistently meet the greater standards their role demands?
Someone who's not strict about timeliness can also be seen as laidback. It may make it easier for others to approach them – or to attempt to take advantage of them.
Related:
On the flip side, someone who sticks rigidly to deadlines may be seen as unnecessarily stubborn or unwilling to accommodate others. To some, this feels just as disrespectful as lateness.
Prioritising punctuality may also suggest a fixed mindset, an overreliance on structure, or a discomfort with spontaneity or risk-taking to those on the opposing end of the spectrum – the sure kiss of death to creativity and innovation.
On its face, it’s an understandable assumption, but it couldn’t be further from my reality.
Clear, set deadlines or appointment times give me something tangible to work towards. Ironically, that structure allows me more creative freedom by easing my anxiety over time pressure. No longer is it yet another fluctuating variable, but a fixed factor more clearly defining the task at hand.
I'm far less rigid about punctuality now than I was 10 years ago, in favour of purposeful adaptability. Even so, I doubt I’ll ever be someone who "goes with the flow" nor do I want to be.
No matter how we try to cast punctuality in a different angle, we cannot hand-wave away the fact that what we do (or don't do) indelibly reflects something about who we are – and we can't always control what that something is. For me, it's less about showing respect for others, and more about upholding the standards I set for myself.
Grace Yeoh is a correspondent at CNA Lifestyle.
Related:
Continue reading...