Likely Normal

In a country that invented fast food, next-day delivery, and microwave meals, it is surprising how many people take a relaxed approach to timekeeping. While some cultures treat punctuality as sacred (looking at you, Japan and Switzerland), many in the U.S. operate on a more… flexible timeline. For them, “starts at 7” really means “wander in by 7:20,” and “I’m on my way” could indicate anything from “walking out the door” to “still in bed scrolling TikTok.”

This tardiness spectrum is fascinating. There are the “Five-Minute Rule” People who treat all appointments like movie start times (arriving late is expected), the “Fashionably Late” Crowd who consider timeliness gauche (your party isn’t cool until at least half the guests are MIA), and the “Time Blind” Tribe, who genuinely believe they can commute across town in eight minutes because Google Maps said so—ignoring parking, red lights, and their own inability to find their keys.

Then there are the Punctual Martyrs, those rare souls who show up exactly on time, only to spend 15 minutes awkwardly sipping water alone, wondering if they misread the invite or if everyone else is dead. These are often transplants from punctuality-obsessed households or cultures, or victims of overachieving parents who treated “five minutes early” as “on time.” Their suffering is real: They’ve mastered the art of the polite smile while seething internally as their lunch date texts, “Almost there!” (Translation: just left the house.)

We can’t omit the professionals who charge by the minute, yet treat your appointment time as fiction. Doctors, dentists, and mechanics operate on Tardiness Inflation Time, where 30 minutes late is “running on schedule.” The waiting room becomes a purgatory where time dilates—where you could earn a PhD in magazine crosswords before hearing “The doctor will see you now,” only to then wait another 20 minutes in the exam room. It’s the one place where even the most punctual among us must surrender to the universe’s whims… and the Architectural Digest backlog from 1988.

Why are so many people like this? Blame car culture, sprawling cities, or the national “my time is my own” ethos. But the real culprit might be competitive busyness: In a society where “I’m swamped” is a status symbol, lateness becomes collateral damage. (“Sorry I’m late—back-to-back meetings!” translates to: “I’m important enough to overbook.”)

Of course, not all lateness is equal. Creative lateness (blaming traffic/weather/the universe) is tolerated; serial lateness (your friend who’s never once made it to brunch before the mimosas are gone) is quietly resented. Meanwhile, corporate America has devised passive-aggressive solutions, such as “lockout policies” (late to the meeting? The door won’t open!) and calendar reminders that scream, “You have five minutes to get to the conference room —you time-management menace.”

At its core, our tardiness reflects a cultural tug-of-war between individualism and collective responsibility. We want to respect others’ time… but also refuse to be rushed by arbitrary clocks. The result? A nation where “on time” is a theoretical concept, like eating just one chip or replying to emails promptly.

So, to the punctual warriors out there: We salute you. Your suffering—nursing that first lonely coffee, rehearsing small talk with the receptionist—is the glue holding civilization together. The rest of us will be there soon. Probably.