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This is a question Why I was late

"On the way to the station, I got hit by a bat, it almost took my head clean off. Then the machine would not accept my ticket and the guy at the gate didn't think I looked like the photo on my travel card. So I had to go home and get my passport.

Then the train was 45 minutes late to the station because of the dangerous badger threat at Carpenters Park.

When I was on the train it took and hour and a half to get past the biscuit factory because the driver was really fat.

Then there was a delay stopping at the station because the train in front had heard we were coming and decided to play a practical joke with a rubber shoe on the track.

That is why I couldn't get here on time today."

What's your best excuse?

(, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 10:36)
Pages: Latest, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, ... 1

This question is now closed.

Management Secrets: Part 1
We don't care why you're late. All we hear is "I'm going to be late...blah blah blah ...leaked all over the floor...blah blah...skidded and broke it's...blah blah"

If lateness is a rare occurrence we say 'OK, get in when you can' and leave it at that.

If you're breaking the don't take the piss rule on lateness frequency, we say 'OK, get in when you can' and start thinking about your 0% pay rise and how we're going to manufacture your redundancy.

(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 15:00, Reply)
Not me, but my best mate...
Dave (I shall call him) is late for just about everything, ever. One day he was over an hour late for a beer on a Sunday lunchtime. When he finally arrived I pointed out that an hour was a bit much, even for him (he lives about five minutes' walk from the pub). His excuse?

"I got out of the shower, dried off and put my pants on. there was a wasp in them. It stung me. On the bell-end." Ouch! Dave is a roundhead, BTW, so no foreskin for protection.

"Fuck me," I said. "Did you kill it?"

"No," he replied. "I had rather more pressing matters to attend to, like seeing exactly how cold a domestic shower can get."

I asked if he was so late because he'd been to the chemist for some Wasp-Eeze, but he said no, that would have made him miss the pub, and he'd promised to be there. He was standing there (in tightish jeans) with an untended wasp sting on his helmet, just to meet us. Kudos to the man of iron. Mind you, when the last bell went he was over to Tesco's pharmacy for some spray pretty damn sharpish.

Length? Legendary, but not nearly as legendary as his (temporary) girth.
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 14:23, Reply)
Ring of Fire
I have to agree. After many years in Bangkok people stil show up an hour late saying sorry mate trafic was terible, it took two hours to get across town on the bus.

It's fucking Bangkok, the traffi's lways terrible, and it always takes two hours to get across town on bus.

So why the fuck do people only leave half an hour before the arranged meeting time.

Or just get a boat.

(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 14:19, Reply)
I had to go to a shitty diversity course for work the day after a Buckcherry gig. I woke up the next day covered in "gig sweat" (You know, moshing, being crushed into people, heat, smoke...the smell of a gig!) I stank so badly and was 45 minutes late, nobody wanted to sit next to me on the train because I looked like a hobo... I fell asleep on the train seeing as I was exhausted and woke up 9 stops from where I should have gotten off.

Now I'm three hours late, I stink of booze, smoke and rock concert residue...what's my excuse for being late?

My alarm clock broke.

The cunt didn't believe me and phoned my manager.
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 13:31, Reply)
another friend
is soo busy at work that he took two weeks off and nobody noticed..
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 13:05, Reply)
Not my story.
I recall a while ago that a lot of people took a long time to get home one night because British Rail had lost the train somewhere around Crystal Palace.
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 12:58, Reply)
Not me, but a friend
Many years ago a friend and I were both working as industrial temps at the same company.

One Thursday night, both feeling pretty fed up with our lot, we decided to partake in a few beers. Several hours later, after much drowning of sorrows, we decided to stagger home...before going to our separate flea pits my friends final philosophical words were, "Uuuu knowww what'sss great about usss, mate? We jusss don't give a f**kkk!".

Fast forward a few hours, and I awake the next morning at around 10:00 in my beer stained, stinking clothing from the day before, feeling somewhat worse for wear. After several hungover moments, the realisation hits me that it's Friday morning, and obviously, I'm an hour late for work. After spraying my night/day time attire with deoderant, and a quick swill with some mouth wash, I'm out the door, into the car, and on my way to work.

Being the kind soul I am, I realise that my friend is probably in the same predicament as I, so I head round to his house to offer him a lift to work. When I get there I can't get any reply, so I figure he has probably managed to crawl out of bed and make it to work already.

I make it to work at about 10:30 and make my execuses, boss is fine about, and all is forgotten. At around lunch time, by now feeling pretty shattered, I decide to take a wander round to the other side of the grim industrial estate (situated slap bang next to the M25...not particularly soothing for a hungover headache) to find out how my friend was bearing up. I couldn't find him, and so I decided to give him a call.

Me: You alright mate.
Friend: Urrrgghh.....No.....I feel rubbish.
Me: Are you not coming to work?
Friend: Er...No....I've been sacked.

To cut a rambling, hungover conversation short, he had called into work to say that he was not going to make it, and his excuse was "I have an appointment at the American embassy in London, I've applied for a green card, and it has come through...oh...and I'm probably going to emmigrate."

Which, while it is true that he had applied for a green card for the USA some months ago, telling a company for whom you're working that:

a) Rather than coming to work you've decided to nip down to the American Embassy

b) About to emmigrate

Doesn't seem the most conducive for holding onto a position of employment. Also, it would have been easier to just say he had the flu.

EDIT: He spent the next 6 months sitting around in his pants playing Medal of Honour before emmigrating.

EDIT EDIT: I quit working at the same company a month later, I sepnt the next 6 months between other industrial temp. work, sitting around in my pants. One weekday afternoon we took our boredom and what little money we had left and went to the Galaxy Centre in Luton (Grreat!) to watch a movie, after which we spent the remainder of our money on the arcade next to the cinema. At about 14:30, after our funds were exhausted, and some wandering around aimlessy past chavs, single mothers and drunks, my friend said to me "Jesus mate.....let's go home.....I feel so unemployed".
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 12:56, Reply)
Faster, you weakling!
I missed the school bus & subsequently had to make the trip by train, including the 1 mile uphill trek from the destination that the journey entailed. The reason: I agreed to help a who bloke was sitting astride a Kawasaki Ninja looking a bit peturbed at its failure to start. He asked me to push start it for him but as I was only about 13, and he was a big fucker, I was having some trouble gathering the necessary speed. I heaved, I panted, I shoved, I pranced about like a tit trying to get the machine to turn over...

Whilst I was poncing up and down on the pavement trying to get the thing going, the bus passed me and I got mooned by my schoolbound chums; something that only served to add insult to injury. It occurred to me at this point that schoolkids have a funny way of displaying empathy. I've since used this excuse for lateness at work in various jobs and it has served me well.

To save subsequent posting, I'm also a big fan of "My washine machine suffered a sudden bout of incontinence and the kitchen was under a foot of water, you know how it is..." It always gets the sympathy vote because the other person is just chuffed it's happened to you and not them. As proof of its effectiveness, I used that in a job interview and still got the position.
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 12:26, Reply)
Running late...
Sometimes when I’m running late for work I fantasise about being hit by a car en route so that I can have a few weeks off work and avoid apologising to my boss for my tardiness...

Nothing too serious or debilitating (I want to enjoy my time off work remember) I think I could probably put up with a broken knee or ankle or similar... Anyone want to run me down?
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 11:52, Reply)
sorry I am late:
1. I had landlord issues
2. I was caught in traffic (only really works in a city)
3. I was finishing a piece of work/job application.
4. I was caught in an important phone call.

the list of bollocks reasons is almost endless, as long as they sound vaguly plausible you are OK
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 11:50, Reply)
I wasn't late.....
She was.....

The excuse: "forgot the pill"

Bye bye motor-bike.......hello dirty nappies...
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 11:41, Reply)
I was late home
because I was standing at a bus stop with a friend of mine (a rather petite and attractive girlie) who had a milwall jumper on. The bus driver took one look at her jersey and sped off.
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 11:40, Reply)
In school, if we were late, we had to sign a late form, which everybody could see.

I just put "my cat got ran over by aliens". Worked. Never bothered me about being late again. They knew I was a lazy shit.
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 11:34, Reply)
When my girlfriend was late
my excuse was "I thought you were on the pill".
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 11:20, Reply)
Flexi time
At my last work place, a mate had developed the flexi system application that we were using. It had a slight bug in it that it ran off the local computer's time instead of the server's time. If I was running late (or wanted to leave work a bit early), I'd just change the time on my computer. Simple. Thanks, Matt!
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 11:10, Reply)
Thankyou Sickipedia
Little Jonny goes into school a bit late...
His teacher demands"Why are you late Jonny?"
"I'm sorry Miss, my dad got burnt" replies Jonny
"Oh,I'm sorry,I hope it wasn't serious" says the teacher
To which Johnny replies,"Well,they don't fuck about at the crematorium"
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 10:58, Reply)
Homework excuse - year 7
Slightly off topic but...

'Sorry miss, last night I was abducted by aliens who conducted horrific experiments on my genitalia and I was too traumatised to complete my homework'

Made her laugh and I got an extra day, such a cool teacher
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 10:38, Reply)
Why I was late
This story is not about me,it concerns a young apprentice who I used to work with maybe 10-12 years ago.

Now,said person was not the brightest,constantly irritating our foreman with his sheer stupidity and incompetence.

One stormy morning,lashing rain,thunder and lightning,the young lad appears at about 10:30,after the storm has died down.

"Where the fuck have you been" demanded our exasperated foreman,

"My dad looked out of the window and said,only a fucking idiot would go out in that weather" came the reply

Cue disbelieving looks from eveyone in the work as the hapless youngster was hauled into the office for a final warning.

He didn't last much longer.
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 10:37, Reply)
It's OK I'm alive!
One Monday I was a bit (very) late and still a bit stoned, so I told my boss that I had been at the hospital all weekend because I'd had a minor stroke.
I was working on the premise that nobody would lie about something like that, so my deception would remain...erm...deceptive.

Anyway, my fecklessness continued and a couple of weeks later rather than go to work I smoked an 8am big'un with the plan of sleeping til lunch time and then some light self abuse.

Imagine how thrilled I was to be woken by my boss at around 10am, with my mate gleefully grinning over his shoulder. And how thrilled he was to find me mashed and red eyed surrounded by DRUGS.

He'd asked my housemates where I was (we all worked at the same place) and they told him they'd not seen me since the evening before, when I'd gone to bed early complaining of a headache.(True) My Boss -bless him- decided I'd been struck down by another stroke and set out to save me.

And the outcome - fuck all. This was a huge American corporation, as long as you didn’t say something that could be construed as being possibly sexist or racist it was impossible to get sacked. I think I had to see the occupational counselor for a couple of mornings.
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 10:08, Reply)

Is what I would say given the choice, but I'm not allowed.
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 9:39, Reply)
Well, it seems a legitimate excuse. If anyone where I work is late in now it's because they've been "delayed by terror".
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 9:26, Reply)
Bastard Post
I was late for school one day. I was walking down the road and an argument kicked off between two guys on the other side of the road. Being the nosy bastard that I am I kept watching them to see if it was going to get violent.

Next thing I know I've walked straight into a lamp post and cut my eyebrow open.

Manly face scar and a day of school. Result.
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 8:33, Reply)
Medical condition
Me: I have a problem with my eyes
Boss: What proble"m?
Me: I can't see myself coming in on time.
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 8:08, Reply)
Bastards being late just cos they're bastards
I remember a mate coming to collect me to go watch some band play nearby. I was on the phone at the time to my sister who happened to be in another country and we hadn't spoken for weeks.
Cue this dick hurrying me off the phone with my own family for his attitude. We arrived in time to have some bird bat her eyelids at him to go and fetch her boyfriend. yes her BOYFRIEND. so he missed most of the gig anyway.
I should have kicked the tosser in the freaking head for that.
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 8:03, Reply)
This is an entirely true story
I was born a month late. After 10 months in the womb, I was ready to make my way into the world. And even then, I was born asleep.

Ever since, I've been late and tired all my life.
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 6:17, Reply)
My Nan
Bless her,

She's a member of the Filey women's institute. Every few months they have to connect with the mother ship (York). My nan got herself on the train, got off in York, had a lovely day out and got back on the train to Scarborough (next to Filey). My grandad waited in the car at Scarborough station when my nan's train was due, and waited, and waited. Four hours (honestly) after my nan was due he left the station and in a panic phoned me (granddaughter - live in York - but cannot drive)and my mum (daughter - lives nowhere near York - but can drive).

My nan got off the train a stop too soon - Seamer for those in the know - found herself a pub near the station and buckled down for the night. I spent the best part of 50 quid in a taxi getting through to Filey and my grandad. My mum hired a car and got to Seamer to pick up my nan (best part of 100 notes).

Best bit, by the time I'd spent 50 quid and my mum 100 notes some fucking farmer boy had given my nan a lift home. My grandad had also driven to the pub to pick up my nan and arrived a few minutes after she departed. Me and mum arrived in the arse end of nowhere to find my grandad pissed as a lord in the company of farmer boys and my nan safe and sound at home.

My mum had the idea to drive the hire car back to my house in York, but the petrol run out on the A64. We got home though.

Late - my nan, 75 years old and late home

Late - my grandad going out to find her and ending up as pissed as possible

Late - my rent that month. I paid 50 quid for a taxi

Late - my mum. She was so relieved that her mum and dad (my nan and grandad)survived their ordeal that she spent a couple of days with me in York.

Cost of hire car 50 squid a day, cost of not telling AVIS you're going to keep it for 3 days - priceless.
(, Tue 3 Jul 2007, 2:56, Reply)
For rachelswipe and others...
Round trip to Brighton from Victoria? No problems - atleast the drunken tw*t ended up back in London.

Try Christmas Eve, last train from Victoria to Canterbury, only to wake one of your passengers up at Canterbury West station:

Me: "Come on mate, time to wake up"
Him:"Is this Bromley South?"
Me: "Nope, Bromley's 50miles that way"
Him:[Slurring]"How much is a cab..."

P.S - It's not our job to telepathically know where you need to get off the train, nor is it our job to wake you from your Stella-induced coma.

P.P.S - Aparently, it cost him £120 to get back to London.
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 23:11, Reply)
Travelling at high speed one day, my radio bleeped into life and the signaller made the internationally recognised indication that something was very wrong...

"Hello Driver of Train **** - can you come to a stand pretty quick please!"

Slamming on the emergency brake (and hearing the passengers coffee hit the bulkhead behing the drivers cab) I managed to stop and be informed by a concerned by no doubt p*ssing himself signalman that someone had pitched a tent on the line ahead.

So apologies for the 20 minute delay while me and the guard dismantled the tent, packed it all away and waited for the transport police to collect the owner's belongings....
(, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 22:49, Reply)

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