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?
(
chthonic, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 10:36)
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You can't handle the truth.One midweek evening a few years ago, I was in the company of a most attractive young lady. After a couple of drink we retired back to hers for coffee (etc etc). The next morning I awaken to the thought that in my libido driven haste last the night before, I had forgotten to set an alarm on my phone (she hadn't bothered as she was off work all week).
I turn my phone on two find two things; 1) the time was 11:20am and 2) a voicemail message from my then boss enquiring as to my whereabouts.
I decided that if you are going to be late then it pretty much doesn't matter how late and was in no rush. When I eventually rang my boss to explain my no-show, the first thing that came to mind was a grandparent dying. I chose not to say this as I didn't want to tempt fate and so the immediate next gem of bullshit that left my lips before I could even think about it was 'I've broken my wrist and I've been in hospital (in East London) all morning'.
I should point out that at the time I worked for an NHS hospital myself and then spent the following 2 weeks with my left forearm/wrist in heavy dressing borrowed from friends in the A&E Dept sitting around not doing much work and occasionally being sent to have my sling re-fitted.
An interesting side note is that that afternoon as I was arsing about, my Father rang me at work to tell me he'd dropped the keys through my letter box only for my boss to tell him that I'd broken my wrist...good job I didn't use the dead grandparent excuse as that may have come as a bit of a shock to him.
Yadda yadda yadda length yadda yadda.
(, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 13:11, Reply)
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