"Next time you're late, I'm gonna have to let you go," said Mr. Toole; "it's the fifth time that you've come in late this month!"
Mr. Toole had an unapproachable demeanor and was as heartless as a rock. His shirts always seemed to be undersized, with sweat-stains at his armpits. He was just one of the many managers threatening to terminate me if I didn't work on punctuality. My attendance was the reason why I couldn't get along with many of my colleagues, who picked up my slack on the days where I arrived late. I even got into it with a customer who blamed me for the long line and bad service when I arrived two hours late for my shift. I found myself constantly reminding myself that I wasn't going to be selling shoes for the rest of my life.
Everything for me was last minute, and I wasn't sure if I was ever going to learn. I didn't know what it felt like to show up on time for anything. I always had a backup sob story for each of my late appearances. Either I was sick, someone died, I was robbed, or a wheelchair passenger boarded each stop as another disembarked. I didn't begin to realize that something was wrong with me until my lateness started to affect my own personal life. I would receive bad grades because I showed up to class late and missed all the work, my girlfriend was always waiting on me, and I couldn't get a new job because I showed up late to all of the interviews.
One night, I went into a deep sleep and dreamt about escaping all of the problems that were ruining my life. I remember someone in the dream trying to relay a message to me, but I became so distracted in all the material things around me. It were as though someone was trying to wake me up and I didn't want to. I was in a tranquil space and I did not want to get up. It was not until I began to dream about coming into work one day and said to Mr. Toole "I quit!" that I realized the voice had gotten louder and louder. When I finally paid closer attention to it, it was loud enough to wake me out of my sleep. It was the voice of Chaka Khan shattering the speakers of my alarm clock radio two hours after my scheduled work time, and over a dozen missed calls from Mr. Toole.
