What happened when I was late for work… again

Sorry I'm late

Sorry I’m late – I got here when I felt like it

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As a slave to the paymaster it is my duty to haul my face out of bed five days a week to sit in front of a screen counting the hours until wine o’clock.

My morning routine time is mostly swallowed by dithering in front of the wardrobe trying on at least three outfits before landing on the ‘this will do’ look.

I knew my day was cursed when I was onto my fifth outfit before I could confidently step out the front door.

Time was ticking and I had a cold well-lit cubicle I needed to rush to.

I fast paced walked/skipped to the train station cursing the folk in front of me. Every cell in my body screaming ‘get out of the way I need to hurry so I can sit for eight hours!’.

As I watched my train draw into the station a 200 meters ahead of me. My half awake brain wondered – could I make it?

It was not a conscious decision – it was the people around me who started to run and, like a pack animal, I joined them.

I shot down two flights of stairs leaping into the carriage as the beeping doors closed. Made it.

I was travelling so fast, I hit the opposite door with such force that two people immediately got up to offer me a seat. I graciously sat down in silence, after a nod of thanks, I avoided eye contact and pulled out the iPhone. Mortified.

I won’t be able to walk properly for the rest of the day, but I wasn’t late for work.

Not today anyway.

Do you have a super efficient morning routine?

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