I’m a tour guide. On a recent trip, one woman who was traveling alone was consistently oversleeping. Before every trip, I remind everyone of departure times, give printed schedules, and share my number in case someone is running late. Day one she was 10 minutes late; I let it slide but told the group: no more than 15 minutes late and call me if it happens. The trip went by okay otherwise. The next day this same tourist was late again, by TWENTY FIVE minutes. I called her twice to no answer, and we were just about to leave without her when she came out running and got on the bus. I reminded everyone AGAIN that I will not be waiting anymore for late tourists, and waking up on time is their responsibility. When we came back, she asked me if I could “make sure to wake her up on time.” I reminded her that I’m not responsible for waking people up. She kept saying, “No, no, just knock on my door if I’m not out by 8:15,” and I kept repeating, “I really can’t do that for everyone, please set an alarm.” Well, on the third day she…
On the third day, she was late again, but this time by only 10 minutes. I could see her running towards the bus with a flustered expression, her hair wild from the rush, and her face red from embarrassment. As she climbed on, she apologized profusely, even though I had already warned the group multiple times that I wouldn’t wait beyond 15 minutes. I glanced at her with a sigh but didn’t say anything. I just wasn’t sure how to deal with it anymore.
“Please, can you just knock on my door tomorrow if I’m not up?” she asked again, her voice laced with desperation. I could see she genuinely didn’t want to ruin the trip for anyone else. But I had already told her multiple times that it wasn’t my responsibility. It wasn’t even the fact that she was late that bothered me. It was the constant refusal to take responsibility for her own actions.
“I really can’t, you need to set an alarm,” I said as kindly as I could, trying not to sound frustrated. I could feel the group’s eyes on me, waiting to see how I would handle it.
The rest of the trip continued without any issues, but every time we had to gather at the meeting point, I could feel my patience wearing thin. I just didn’t get it. How could someone travel like this, with no regard for time? The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I disliked the position I was in—constantly having to accommodate her late arrivals while trying to be fair to the rest of the group. I could feel the weight of responsibility, but at the same time, I couldn’t figure out how to handle it.
On the final day, the tourist approached me again, looking down at her shoes, the shame evident in her eyes. “I just don’t know what to do,” she said quietly. “I’m always late, and I keep disappointing everyone. I don’t know why I can’t seem to get it together.” Her voice trembled slightly, and for a brief moment, I was caught off guard. She seemed so vulnerable, so open in that moment.
“Maybe you just need to be more mindful of your time,” I said, trying to be gentle, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was still not getting through to her. “Being late isn’t just a problem for you. It affects everyone else too.” I had tried to be nice, but part of me was still irritated by the pattern.
She nodded, the sadness evident in her expression. “I’ve tried. But every morning I set my alarm, and it doesn’t seem to matter. It’s like I can’t wake up on time no matter what I do.”
I paused for a moment, something about her tone sticking with me. I had heard that tone before, a mix of frustration and self-doubt, as though she couldn’t understand why things never seemed to work out. But I still couldn’t fully understand what was causing her to be so consistently late.
The next morning, after a good night’s sleep, we had to meet for our final excursion. When I walked past her hotel room, I found myself wondering if I would see her running out again, as usual. To my surprise, she was already standing by the bus when I arrived, quietly waiting in line with the rest of the group. She didn’t look frazzled at all. Her hair was neatly styled, and she wasn’t rushing. In fact, she seemed more relaxed than I’d ever seen her.
“Did you wake up early?” I asked, trying to keep the surprise from my voice.
She nodded, a small smile creeping onto her face. “I set three alarms last night. I woke up at 7:30. I think I’ve finally figured it out.” There was a sense of accomplishment in her eyes, like she had just conquered a big personal hurdle.
I felt a mix of relief and pride for her, though I hadn’t expected to feel that way. It was like she had learned something important on her own, something that I couldn’t teach her. And in that moment, I realized that maybe it wasn’t about me knocking on her door every morning. Maybe it wasn’t about her needing someone to hold her hand through the whole process. Maybe the real lesson she needed was learning to take responsibility for herself and her actions, even when it seemed like everything was against her.
The trip ended a few days later, and when we gathered for our farewell dinner, she came up to me with a small gift wrapped in brown paper. I took it, puzzled.
“I know I’ve been a bit of a pain,” she said with a laugh. “But I wanted to thank you for being patient with me. You didn’t have to be, and I’m sorry for being late all the time.”
I opened the gift and found a small leather notebook inside. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but it was meaningful. On the first page, she had written a quote that read, “The way you wake up each day shapes the rest of your life.”
I was touched, more than I could express. And suddenly, everything fell into place. I understood her struggle. It wasn’t about laziness or indifference. It wasn’t even about being disrespectful to the group. It was about her trying to navigate a world where she constantly felt like she was falling short, like she couldn’t meet her own expectations. And in that small notebook, she was telling me she was starting to change. She was learning to take control of the things she could, even if it was one small step at a time.
We said our goodbyes, and as she left the group, I couldn’t help but think that maybe the biggest lesson I’d learned was to be more patient with people, to understand that not everyone is dealing with the same struggles. It wasn’t about holding someone accountable every time they made a mistake—it was about giving them the space to learn and grow on their own.
She left that day with a new sense of confidence, and I realized she had already taken the most important step: she had stopped blaming external factors and started looking within herself for the change she needed.
I’ve had many difficult tourists over the years, but her journey was the one that stuck with me. It wasn’t just about the time she showed up late. It was about the way she faced her own shortcomings and took responsibility for changing them. Sometimes, the greatest breakthroughs don’t happen when someone tells us what to do. They happen when we finally realize that we are the ones responsible for our own actions, and that only we have the power to make the changes we need.
It made me think about how often we tend to blame others for our problems, expecting them to fix everything for us. But true growth only happens when we take ownership of our own choices, however small they may seem.
So, if you’re struggling with something in your life, remember this: sometimes it takes a little while to figure it out, but the most important step is the one you take towards fixing it. You might not have all the answers yet, but every effort counts.
And if you’ve ever been late, or if you’ve ever felt like you couldn’t get it together, just know that it’s okay. The important part is the progress you make, not the mistakes you’ve made.
Take responsibility. Take your time. And if you don’t have all the answers today, that’s okay too. Every small step is still a step forward.
If you’ve enjoyed this story, feel free to share it with someone who might need to hear it. We all have our moments of struggle, and sometimes a reminder that change is possible is just what we need.
