A seasoned Thai actor was in the hot seat recently for repeatedly arriving late to work — or failing to show up at all. Some of his fans argued that this is understandable, since he works very hard and is a father of two. Besides, a handsome man like him can do no wrong.
Punctuality is an absolute must in every society, of course. But for many Thais, it seems being on time is not a big concern. The concept of "Thai time" is sometimes used to account for a lack of punctuality, especially when compared to people from other countries who are committed to being timely. Take the Japanese, for instance, whose railways are among the most punctual in the world.
I have been a writer since I graduated from university a decade ago. If I had one baht for every minute someone has been late for an interview — not to mention when an interview subject forgets to show up entirely — I'd be able to retire in comfort by now.
In my experience, about half of my interviewees are late, and often don't call to inform me they won't be on time. The higher their position, the later they are. Being an hour late doesn't seem to warrant any apology from a high-ranking executive. Instead they just walk through the door and act as though nothing has happened.
A few weeks ago, I was at an event that was running an hour behind schedule. The reason was quite simple — the star of the event, a well-known singer, was late, and the event couldn't start without this journo magnet.
Before we deem this phenomenon "Famous Person Syndrome", here's another side of the story. How many of you have heard about maids, drivers and nannies disappearing after a long holiday such as Songkran? I've had my fair share of such experiences, both directly with my own maid and indirectly, with my relatives' helpers. They just don't show up when they are supposed to, and return at their own leisure.
One of my biggest pet peeves is when a friend is late for no good reason, keeping me waiting without a clue as to their whereabouts. When I call them to ask how much longer until they arrive, they often say, "a while". Five minutes is a while. An hour is a while. Which definition should I go for?
When I demand an answer, an attempt to decide whether I should keep waiting or go elsewhere and come back later, they tell me to lighten up. Well, maybe not verbally, but I sense that from their "I don't know", accompanied by an annoyed sigh.
Here's a particular example of how tardiness can have a butterfly effect. One day, there were three beauty product events lined up, at 10:30am, 1pm and 4pm. The attendants were beauty writers from various magazines and newspapers. The first one ran an hour late, so I decided to leave early. That way I could make it to the second event on time. Many of my fellow beauty writers stayed.
When I arrived at the second event, I was the only journalist there, and ended up having to wait another hour, as everyone else was held up at the previous event. The second event inevitably ran two hours late. So did the third. A Singaporean brand manager of the second event was baffled that no one showed up, and even more so when I explained what had happened.
But the worst is seeing parents at my son's school — or any school, in fact — habitually dropping off their kids school late. Sure, kindergarten students aren't being taught life-changing knowledge, but it's the notion that being late is normal that sets them up for trouble later in life.
People who are punctual are often labelled rigid, uptight or serious, and I'm often asked, "What's the rush?" I'm all about taking my time and enjoying life, just not at anyone else's expense. When you are late, you are wasting people's time. There is nothing Zen about that.
Maybe we should start a new tradition — a person has to pay one baht for every minute they are late, sort of like mobile phone usage. Feel free to try it out. I guarantee it will be a real moneymaker. Not to mention a friendship destroyer.
Napamon Roongwitoo is a writer for the Life section of the Bangkok Post.