I arrived at the mall the other morning at 10:02 AM. According to the posted hours, the stores were supposed to open at 10:00. But as I walked the quiet corridor, it became clear: some stores weren’t open yet. A few had their gates half-pulled. Lights were still flickering on. Employees moved behind counters with no particular urgency.
I wasn’t irritated—but I noticed. And that noticing brought with it a kind of curiosity: What happens in those minutes between “open” and “actually open”? And what does that say about how we relate to time—not just in malls, but everywhere?
A Conversation Behind the Counter
I asked someone working nearby what was going on. At first, there was hesitation—maybe they thought I was going to complain. But after a moment, they shared something quietly honest: if a call comes in and no one answers—say, because the employee is alone on shift or had to step away—it can get flagged straight to head office. There’s no context. No grace. Just escalation.
They mentioned how it’s different in smaller, independent shops. Those stores sometimes open a few minutes late without incident. But for chain stores, it’s more rigid. When head office shows up, it’s “Showtime.” Precision takes over. Tolerance disappears.
That conversation took me back.
The Retail Rhythm in the Early ’90s
Back to my early days working retail at Battery Plus, and later, at one of those center-aisle kiosks selling Surf Style windbreakers in bold neon colours. Back then, opening time was a rule. We’d open at opening time, every time. Precision reigned supreme.
But closing time? That was different. If you were scheduled to finish at 5:00 PM, and someone was still shopping at 5:02—or 5:15—you stayed. Especially if your job was commission-based. You didn’t want to lose the sale. And you didn’t want to seem like you were pushing someone out the door.
The tension here isn’t just about time. It’s about power.
Precision, Tolerance, and Power
In many systems, precision is expected most from those with the least power. Hourly workers are often held to exact schedules, while salaried roles have more fluidity. The higher up the ladder you go, the more tolerance you’re granted. The lower you are, the more you’re expected to perform with precision.
Precision can be useful—but it’s also a tool of control. When someone is measured down to the minute, it’s easier to penalize them for slipping. In fact, research has shown that missed deadlines or delays—even small ones—often lead people to judge work more harshly, regardless of quality. Tolerance, on the other hand, asks for context. It allows for human variance.
It’s interesting how this imbalance plays out at both ends of the day.
Closing Time and the Double Standard
Customers might expect a store to open exactly on time. But they don’t hold themselves to the same standard when it comes to closing. You rarely see someone apologize for staying past closing time. But a store that opens five minutes late? That’s more likely to trigger a complaint.
It reveals something about the power dynamic: when precision benefits us, we expect it. When it limits us, we ignore it. Those working under more rigid systems—usually hourly employees—are the ones navigating that tension daily.
What This Says About Time (and Us)
We talk about time as though it’s objective. But it’s not. Not entirely.
The seven-day week? A construct. Business hours? A convention. Legislative calendars can be rewritten. Schedules reshaped. Biff Tannen changed the future with a sports almanac—and in real life, those with enough power reshape time, too.
But most people don’t get that luxury.
What I saw in the mall that morning wasn’t laziness. It was a quiet act of navigating a system built for precision, not for people. And maybe what we need more of—in retail, in work, in life—isn’t stricter timekeeping.