Of course your boss is coming to talk to you on the one morning you're accompanied to work by a mysterious and funky musical trio. Of course he would. You actually hear him first, his voice which echoes around the corner and shoes which tap just a little too loudly on the tiles. Out of primal instinct, you react fast enough to deliver a fierce shove to the three Bee Gee bros. They're tumbling out the door as your boss rounds the corner, but he doesn't notice; he's talking to that tiny earpiece, the one small enough to make it look like he's talking to himself. Maybe he actually is talking to himself.
At length, the boss notices you. Then he notices his watch. He notices you again, then glances back and forth between you and the watch a couple more times for good meansure. "Hold on, Janice," he says. He looks at you with haughty corporate disdain and says, "Steven, right?"
"That's not even close to my name," you answer.
"Right," he says, "anyway, Steven, listen; we take punctuality very seriously here. Now, if my watch is right, and the person I paid seven thousand dollars to buy it from assured me it would be, then you are four minutes late."