by Paula Geister

Created on: October 14, 2008

My manager in the video production department happened to be an old friend from college. We spent a lot of time sharing over the tops of our desks and catching up on family news. It seemed to stimulate us to keep our desks nose to nose in the cramped space of our one room office where we could see each other and hold creative sessions impromptu. It was also face to face across the tops of our desks that we finally began to discuss his recent problem with tardiness at work. He said the problem was his alarm clock.

The problem wasn't so much that he was tempted to hit snooze and doze off again for another hour, although that often tempted him. He just couldn't seem to wake up once it went off. He was a true sleepy head.

He'd tried setting the alarm for an earlier time. He was still sleeping right through it. He tried setting it to loud alarm instead of music and still no luck. He even tried a different alarm clock. The poor guy just didn't seem to be able to find a solution. One day we hit on an answer. That night he was to take the clock and move it to the dresser across the room. We figured if he had to actually get out of bed to shut the alarm off, he would then be on his feet and able to begin his day.

The first challenge would be if he would even hear the alarm. But we hoped for the best and he went home believing that with the loud alarm set, not music, he would hear the fateful bleating and have success. I couldn't wait to come to work the next day and find my friend sitting at his desk working busily when I arrived. I painted a picture of success for him in my mind. I pictured him in his jammies sitting bolt upright in bed to the sound of reveille. I imagined him jumping happily from bed to shut the alarm off and then I imagined some more and saw him happily scrubbing his teeth and humming as he got ready for work.

It would be great.

So with all my imagining, imagine my surprise and chagrin when I arrived at work the next day and he was still a no-show. When he finally schlepped in, he slumped into his chair and just sighed. "What happened?" I wanted to know.

The plan started off great, he said. He moved the alarm clock to the dresser across the room just as planned. He chose the windup clock with loud noise, not music. He crawled into bed with high hopes of greeting me with a cup of coffee and a headstart on me the next morning. He just didn't anticipate that, in addition to being a sleepy head, he could also be an expert sleepwalker. My poor manager had been successful at getting up at the sound of the alarm that morning. But when he finally woke up the second time, he was hugging the alarm clock to his chest.

Jammies and all.

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