By Lisabet Sarai
I
dream about missing deadlines. My plane has already boarded, while
I’m not even finished packing. I’ve got to teach a class in ten
minutes, starting with the quiz I use to make sure everyone arrives
on time, but I’m still half an hour from the university. Then
there’s the classic anxiety dream where I realize I have an exam
scheduled today, yet somehow haven’t studied or attended class for
a full term —astonishing
given how long it’s been since I graduated!
While
these aren’t exactly nightmares, their regular recurrence testifies
to my concern about the issue. In the real world, I work hard to
avoid this sort of close call.
My
DH and I are the kind of people who arrive at the airport more than the
recommended two or three hours prior to departure, just in case we
encounter some unexpected obstacles. I’ve spent a lot of time
hanging around in airport restaurants, gates and lounges. On the
other hand, in four decades traveling around the world, I’ve never
missed a plane (though we almost didn’t make a connecting flight on
a recent trip to China, due to poor planning on the part of the
airline).
I
spent sixteen years in school and university. In that entire period,
I don’t remember ever turning in a late assignment—or
“pulling an all-nighter”, as we used to call it. I’d start
tackling homework or term papers the very day I learned about them.
Now, when I have a commitment to produce some sort of work, I plan my
schedule way ahead of time in order to make sure I can fulfill my
promise. Occasionally I’ll experience problems and discover my
effort estimates were too optimistic. I don’t react well to that
sort of stress, as my long-suffering DH will attest. And when I have
a challenging deadline, one I fear I can’t meet, I seriously
suffer.
Not
everyone is like me. (My students, in particular, seem to feel little
distress about upcoming deadlines.) I’ve met people who seem to get
a thrill out of living on the edge, cutting their margins to the
absolute minimum, gleefully living one day at a time without concern
for tomorrow’s looming responsibilities. I’d like to say that I
envy them their lack of tension, but honestly, the prospect of being
like that fills me with horror!
Our
topic this fortnight is “Close Calls”. Some readers might argue
that almost missing a deadline, or a plane flight, doesn’t capture
the real meaning of the term. A close call, they’ll say, is a
near-disaster that could not have been anticipated or avoided. My
experience with the landslide in Peru, the subject of my post here
when our topic was “Near-Death Experiences”, might qualify.
Almost being discovered in
flagrante
by a parent or authority figure could be an equally good, though less
severe, example. Having the condom break the day before you ovulated
would definitely fit the topic. If you have any control, though, it’s
not really a close call.
I’m
not completely convinced. Obviously external circumstances cannot be
predicted. The drunk driver who almost but not quite totals your car
may be beyond your control. The earthquake that levels the town while
you happen to be away on business; the fanatic who barges into the
movie theater to mow down a dozen people, after you decide at the
last minute to see a different film; the brick tumbling off a
building that lands on the sidewalk two feet ahead of you; these all
represent lucky escapes from dire events that could easily have
impacted you. No deliberate action on your part could have prevented
the terrible outcomes you barely avoided.
However,
I think that some “close calls” are the direct result of the
choices people make. People take risks, choosing to ignore the
potential consequences. Indeed, risk can add to the excitement. I
considered writing a quickie for this topic about having sex in a
public place and nearly being caught. (I refrained, figuring Daddy X
could do a much better job.) Without the danger of discovery, public
sex wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.
Some
people prefer to push things to the limit. They don’t start on
assigned work until the night before it’s due. They show up at the
exit gate five minutes before it closes. They enjoy tempting fate.
Not
me. I’m a pussy when it comes to stress. I recognized that I can’t
control the universe, but I’ll do whatever I can to avoid close
calls in situations where my actions make some difference.
Then
I’ll write stories about those of you who dare to thumb their nose
at danger. You’re much more interesting.
