Time Dan-bits

It's been a long day. This, like many other things we say to each other before properly engaging our brains, is a cliche. Except this time it isn't.

I first became aware that something was wrong at about lunchtime. I knew it was lunchtime because I was hungry, and had been working for roughly four hours. However, a glance at my PC clock told me otherwise. It told me that the time was 11.25am.

This, I was quick to bellow, was absurd. I realised that somewhere a mistake had been made. I was even willing to concede that the blame might lay with me (although I knew in my heart of hearts that this notion was as fanciful as it was ridiculous). So I continued with my day, and would have thought nothing more about it had my friend Stephen not sent me an email roughly an hour later.

'Seriously, is it me, or is today going really really slowly?' it read. 'Yes!' I replied promptly 'Yes it is!' Soon after, our friend Tom piped up with his agreement that the day was indeed proceeding at a peculiarly pedestrian pace. He didn't put it like that, of course. Nobody puts things like that.

So here we have three men, in three completely separate locations, all experiencing what can only be described as Perceived Relative Anomalous Temporal Slowdown. PRATS.

Now, I'm sure you've been on the receiving end of a nasty outbreak of PRATS before. Minutes ooze by painfully, like pus from a hippo's blister. A quarter of an hour seems doubled in size. You attempt something that you're sure cannot be done in less than ten minutes (smoking a cigarillo, perhaps, or taking a large dump), and you're finished in five.

This is by no means a new phenomena. Heidegger wrote a book about it - Sein und Zeit - which is widely considered to be his seminal work. I haven't read it, but if it's widely considered seminal then that's good enough for me. It's also in German, which isn't good for me at all. I only know the words 'Schildkrote' and 'Botschafter', and unless the book is about a tortoise who is also an ambassador it'll be lost on me. And it isn't - it's about Being and Time.

Neitzsche also had a few choice words to say about temporality, but these were probably German words too, so he's not much use to me either.

The crux of my problem is this: I'm not getting paid for all the extra time I'm experiencing. Let me cobble together an analogy. I'm buying some fruit in a greengrocers. Strawberries, for preference. The greengrocer puts all my fruit on his scales. Then he turns round, pulls down his trousers and curls out a steaming poo onto the top. He makes a note of the weight, converts it into the cost of strawberries, then carefully removes the poo and feeds it to his cat. I have to pay more for the strawberries, and I also have to eat them knowing that there has been a poo on them, and that nobody in authority would believe me if I told them that I'd paid more money for a poo that I didn't get to keep.

That, in essence, is what getting paid for 7 hours that felt like 10 really feels like. And something has to be done.

However, it's not as simple as that. It's not like getting over-charged for your gas bill. If you do, you just send a strongly worded letter to the gas company. If your electricity is cut off, you call the electricity company. If the space-time continuum goes all to cock, there's nobody who's going to come round in overalls and sort it out for you.

However, I can still try. Arguably, the place with the strongest ties to temporality in England is Greenwich. The home of Greenwich Mean Time. I mean, how many other places have a time named after them? Not lots. And Greenwich was where they invented the first clock able to tell the time at sea, which back then was quite a feat. Basically, Greenwich is in charge of all the time in Britain. So, if anyone's responsible for my inconveniences today, it'll be someone at the Royal Observatory in Greenwich.

So I emailed them.

From: dan'semailaddressathotmail.com (pseudonym)

Sent:
01 December 2008 18:02:19

To:
comments@nmm.ac.uk

Dear Sir/Madam,

I wish to enquire about some recent disruptions to my perception of time and the duration thereof.

As I understand it, Greenwich Observatory is the British home of time and all things temporal. It is therefore to you that I submit my complaint.

Today seemed considerably longer - to myself and to a number of my friends - than my watch would have given it credit. I would estimate (and I have always been a precocious estimator) that each hour was in actual fact roughly 15 minutes longer than necessary.

This would have been all well and good had today been a Saturday, or a religious holiday, but it was in fact a Monday and I was required to work. This meant that I was forced to spend a far greater perceived time in my office with my colleagues - many of whom are bilious and unsavoury - while only getting paid the usual rate.

I understand that this may seem rather outlandish, but then I have never had any problems with time before and was not sure of the correct channel to voice my disgruntlement. In fact, I'm not totally sure that disgruntlement is even a word, but that is the least of my worries right now.

My suggestion, if you don't mind me suggesting it, would be for you to arrange it so that the rest of my working week appears to go by more quickly than usual. I would consider this to be a fair way to reimburse me of the inconvenience caused by the very long day I have just been forced to experience. If you could also see your way clear to making the weekend seem very long as well, that would be very much appreciated.

I'm sorry to take up your time with this, but then there seems to be much more of it about today than usual.

Yours very faithfully,

Dan

I'm very much looking forward to hearing from them.