How to talk to someone who is always late
How to raise lateness with someone whose work is good — the pattern and its cost in one breath, the 'it's ten minutes' reply, and the question that opens it up.
Ana joins every review and standup around ten minutes in, quietly, camera off, and then contributes well. Two client calls this month started without a designer in the room. Nobody has said anything, because her work is good and ten minutes doesn’t feel like enough to make a fuss about.
That’s exactly why it needs saying now, while it’s still small. This guide covers how to name the pattern and its cost in one breath, how to get past the apology reflex without turning it into a disciplinary, and how to leave room for a reason without demanding one.
Why this one is hard
She’ll apologise before you’ve started. “Sorry, I know, I know” is a reflex, and a good-natured one, but it closes the subject before it’s open. If you accept the apology and move on, you’ve had the meeting without the conversation.
The other difficulty is the size of it. Ten minutes is small enough that raising it feels petty, which is why nobody has. But a pattern isn’t an incident. Two client calls without design in the room is a cost, and a quiet one; the people who noticed were the clients.
And there’s the thing you don’t know. Someone who is reliably late to the same slot, and never mentions it, often has a reason they’ve decided isn’t worth your time. You’ll only hear it if you ask in a way that doesn’t require her to have one.
Before you walk in
One subject. Arriving late to the morning meetings and the client calls. Not her camera, not her standup contributions, not an audit of her calendar. The pattern, and what it costs.
The cost, in one sentence. Two client calls this month started with no designer in the room. That’s the fact that makes ten minutes matter. You don’t need a list of dates; you need the one consequence.
What good looks like. Not “be on time”. It’s “be in the room when the client is, and if the slot doesn’t work, tell me so we can move it.” You’re asking for presence, and offering flexibility on how.
The line you won’t cross. You won’t let “it’s only ten minutes” settle it. The ten minutes isn’t the point. The two calls are.
Your opening line
Pattern, cost, then an open question. Short, and before she can steer you to the work.
Before the work, one thing. You’ve been joining the morning meetings about ten minutes in for a while now, and twice this month a client call started with no design in the room. Is there something about that slot that doesn’t work?
You’ve named the pattern and the cost in two sentences and asked a question she can answer without confessing anything.
The version to avoid is the list:
I’ve noticed you were late on the 3rd, the 7th, the 10th, the 14th…
A list of dates turns a conversation into a charge sheet, and she’ll hear surveillance where you meant concern.
The three pushbacks you’ll hear
“Sorry, I know. It’s ten minutes. What did you need?”
Warm, quick, and already moving on. She’s minimising, not disputing. Don’t argue the ten minutes; restate the cost.
It’s not the ten minutes. It’s that a client call started without a designer, twice. That’s the part I can’t leave alone.
You’ve let the apology stand and kept the subject where it belongs.
“Did anyone actually miss me in those minutes? The work’s there.”
The output defence, and it’s a fair one: the work is good. Concede it in full before you answer.
The work’s good, and nobody’s questioning it. The clients noticed. The first ten minutes is where the room decides who’s leading, and twice it decided that without you.
She’s asking whether the lateness matters. You’ve said why it does without touching the quality of her work.
“Honestly, the meeting culture is the problem. Half my mornings are gone before I’ve opened a file.”
She’s widening the subject to the whole calendar, and she may have a point. Take it seriously, then bring it back.
Some of that’s probably true, and I’ll look at it. But I want to understand this slot specifically. If nine-fifteen is the hard one, say so. Moving it is easier than you think.
This is the sentence that gets you the thing you didn’t know. In this case it might be that she’s doing the school run alone this term, and asking to move a nine-fifteen meeting felt like announcing that her life was falling apart. You can move a meeting. You can’t move one you don’t know about.
Where you stop
You’ve named the pattern, held the cost through the apology, and asked about the slot. If she’s now telling you about the mornings, you’re doing well. The good ending is practical: “move the morning slots fifteen minutes and I’m in the room before anyone.” Say yes, there and then, if you can.
If she’s still on “it’s only ten minutes” and nothing has opened up, say this once:
I’m not asking for a reason. I’m asking that you’re in the room when the client is, and that if the slot’s the problem, you tell me. That’s all.
Then finish. If she goes clipped and formal and asks whether this is a documented warning, you’ve pushed past where the conversation can go today. Say no, it isn’t, and that you’d rather fix a meeting time than write anything down. Then let it rest. Pressing further turns a schedule problem into a trust problem.
Afterwards
Send one line the same day, and make it the offer rather than the complaint: “If a fifteen-minute shift on the morning slots helps, say the word and I’ll move them.” Whether or not she takes it, she now knows it was never about catching her out.
Then, if the slots move, be there at the new time yourself, every time, for the first fortnight. The person who asked for the change arriving late to it is the fastest way to teach her the conversation was theatre.