Two simple stories about managing time could change the way you see your organisation's culture?

I want to share two stories. Both about time. Both true. Both revealing.

Story One: How Late Is Too Late?

I was facilitating a business association event when the topic of time management arose. I posed what I thought was a straightforward question: how late is it acceptable to be for a business appointment?

The responses ranged widely — from “ten minutes early” to “never late” to, at the extreme end, thirty minutes after the scheduled time. I asked the person who offered thirty minutes to tell me more.

They were in their late twenties, and they were entirely unapologetic. That was just how they operated. They were busy. Things came up. Thirty minutes late was, in their view, within the range of normal.

I find it useful not to judge these views but to explore them. What struck me was how completely this position would be received in a corporate environment, a formal meeting, or by a client who had cleared time specifically for that appointment. The thirty-minute person wasn’t bad or careless — they simply held an assumption about professional time that was significantly at odds with the assumptions of most people they’d be meeting.

That gap — between what you assume and what the other person expects — is where professional credibility quietly erodes.

Story Two: The Speaking Engagement That Tested My Own Standards

I was engaged to speak at a conference in another city. The event was significant — a large audience, a high-profile client. I took the earliest available flight, calculated a comfortable buffer, and felt prepared.

What I hadn’t accounted for was a mechanical issue that grounded the plane for two and a half hours. By the time we landed, my buffer had vanished entirely. I arrived at the venue with minutes to spare, rattled in a way I rarely am before a keynote.

I made it. But I learned something important that day about the difference between planning for the expected and planning for the unexpected. A buffer that’s merely comfortable is not a true buffer. True preparation means building in enough time that even a two-hour delay doesn’t threaten the outcome.

I now travel the day before whenever there’s a consequential engagement the following morning. The extra hotel night is a small cost against the risk of letting down a client or audience.

What These Two Stories Reveal

Together, these stories point to something deeper than punctuality — though punctuality is part of it.

They reveal what an organisation, a team, or an individual actually values. Time is one of the clearest signals of respect we send each other. When you’re on time — genuinely on time, not within-margin-of-error on time — you’re communicating: I prepared for this. I value your time. You matter enough for me to be organised.

When you’re consistently late, or when “late” has been redefined within your culture to mean something comfortable, you’re communicating the opposite — even if that’s not your intention.

The Professional Culture Question

I’ve worked with organisations where starting on time for meetings was taken completely seriously — where the chair closed the door at the appointed minute and latecomers were genuinely noticeable exceptions. The culture of those organisations communicated respect and rigour in everything.

I’ve also worked with organisations where meetings routinely started ten to fifteen minutes late because everyone knew they would. The cumulative waste of time was significant. But more importantly, the culture it signalled — that commitments are approximate, that standards are soft — extended beyond meetings into other dimensions of how the business operated.

Your attitude to time is part of your professional brand. It’s one of the most consistent, observable signals you send about who you are and how you work.

Start on time. Arrive early. Build in the buffer you actually need. These aren’t small things.