Saving time and face is a lost art

Transportation was unexpectedly smooth and I arrived at the meeting half an hour before time. I kept my eyes on the restaurant door. Several customers entered, but not my friend. At 6 pm, she sent me a text message: "Urgent work to finish. Will be 20 minutes late."

I had forgotten my book, so I spent the time reflecting on my experiences of being late in China. On my first visit in 1985, punctuality was deeply rooted in Chinese morality. There were no traffic jams then.

Our tour guide told us the previous night the bus would leave at 8 am, but at 8:02, one person was still missing. The guide panicked: "Something must have happened? This is impossible! Maybe he overslept?" And she asked the reception desk to send someone to the absentee's room for a check.

As a teacher in Canada, I always insisted on punctuality. I would open the classroom door to a late student for the first breach and the second, but not the third. He or she would have to remain in the corridor and catch up at the end of the day.

For one particular group of students, however, I had a bunch of guys who never cured their habit of arriving late. They included my son, who never made up, as he was born one week later than expected.

As an Italian, however, I was used to this disregard for punctuality. During a summer vacation in Italy, we had an appointment at 7:30 pm with a notary. He arrived at 8:15 pm. We chatted for a while, as we were old friends and had not seen each other for long. At 9:45 pm, he said: "Too late to talk business today. Let's go to the bar."

During the six years I worked for CCTV, I had a Chinese friend whom I often saw at lunch time, or after work. We used to meet at the subway station nearby. He was always late by 10-20 minutes. To my question, "You were busy?" he would surprisingly answer, "No". Once I asked him to check the clock in his office, thinking it must be wrong - it dawned on me later that this man was simply late-by-nature.

During the last years of my employment at Beijing Review, I moved to Shunyi district, near Beijing Capital International Airport and I contracted a taxi to drive me daily to Dongzhimen subway station in the city, so I could reach my office at a decent time, though my schedule was quite flexible.

In March 2005, I was granted permanent residence in China. The ceremony was scheduled for 9 am at the Public Security Bureau on the Second Ring Road.

I told my driver I had to get there by 8:40 am. "No problem," he replied. But, he miscalculated by thinking he had time to drop someone at the airport before picking me up. I desperately waited for him. Then, to rub salt into my wounds, he needed to stop at the gas station.

Finally, I entered the room at 9:07 am - the last guest to arrive. And here is the point: Instead of starting the ceremony immediately, the organizers let 10 more minutes run so as to make me feel at ease and politely cover my offence. They saved face for me and I will never forget their tactful kindness.

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