The most important person 

arrives last.

I heard this one night on a stationary bus, where the passengers were waiting impatiently for the bus to start off. Suddenly, a man dashed into view, hastening up the bus. This person was apparently familiar to the driver, who shook his head and muttered, “The most important person arrives last.” 

This very brief statement, a saying that I had never heard before, has remained with me.

In many formalities, from award shows to government ceremonies, protocol calls for a buildup in status until, at last—the most essential person appears.

Most of us are not this person. 

Our real place in the scheme of things acknowledged, we need to ask ourselves whether we habitually run late, like that flustered man. If not, great. But if we do, then we might ask ourselves if we really want to announce to all involved that our time is more valuable than theirs. 

That we are the most important person!