Be on time or else.
But here’s the thing, New York is a late town. Things happen here. Trains stall, buses breakdown. Weather creates havoc like flooding and delays leaving you in the tall grass, or at least stuck on the number C train.
Like trying to keep the tide from coming in.
So where does this disciplinarian get off shooting buckshot at your feet – a martinet of legislated misery making you sweat en route to a job you all but killed yourself to get?
Makes me angry alright. Would like to forge a legal complaint with Human Resources if only models had an HR to complain to.
I know a woman who peed in her pants after getting lost on her way to a location, she got that shook-up.
Here’s the kahuna of questions. What’s the worst that could have happened?
That they fired her – sent her home with her lip-pencil between her legs…say, we’re sorry, but we had to start without you?
Thrashings and lashings, caning and maiming as this lateness isn’t tolerated?
Lets haul us off to jail in cuffs and leg irons by some grizzled cop with a nightstick.
And who knows, maybe one of us will make the front of the New York Post with the headline…MODEL LATE FOR THE LAST TIME
Life is so short.
I will be the late Susannah Bianchi soon enough without having to worry in the interim, I’ll be late.
Besides, haven’t you ever heard of a fashionable entrance?