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?
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chthonic, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 10:36)
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The funny thing is, for once I wan't being economical with the truth...In a past life (as some of you who frequent these hallowed pages will no doubt be aware), I was a recruitment consultant. And oh, how I hated it. Never before, nor since, have I come up with such a wide-ranging plethora of excuses as to why I was not chained in to my desk at 0845 on the ‘phone.
These have been known to include:
“I witnessed a car accident this morning.” Well, yes. If the car accident was in my bed.
(With an exaggerated limp) “I fell down the stairs and had to go to the Doctor.”
OK. So these aren’t particularly good excuses, but they earned me extra snooze time!
Anyway, one morning I was struggling in to work, and what’s more, I was on time. I veritably skipped off of the train at Mile End, twirled across the platform and leapt on to the District Line to complete my journey.
Due to a particularly cruel twist of fate, there had been a signal failure between Whitechapel and Stepney Green, but LU (in their infinite wisdom) kept sending trains in to the tunnels. 3, to be precise. Trapping 3,000 people underground. For an hour and a half.
To cut a long story short, I eventually rolled in to work a record breaking 2 and a half hours late. And when I told my tale, it was responded to with a curt “what utter bollocks.”
Which made coming in the next morning with the Evening Standard, which had the story on the front page, all the sweeter. Eat that, recruitment!
Yes, it’s long, but I haven’t been here for a while!
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Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 11:25,
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