The trouble with being punctual is that nobody’s there to appreciate it.

Franklin P. Jones (1908–1980) was an American journalist and humorist best known for compact, wry one-liners that circulated widely in mid‑20th‑century newspapers and quotation columns. This remark belongs to that tradition of office- and etiquette-centered humor, poking at the social reality behind a moral virtue: punctuality only “pays” when others are present to notice it. The line is often reproduced in collections of Jones’s aphorisms and in syndicated humor features, reflecting the period’s appetite for brief, quotable observations about everyday frustrations—appointments, meetings, and the small ironies of polite behavior.

The joke hinges on a mismatch between principle and payoff. Punctuality is praised as a sign of respect and reliability, yet arriving on time can leave one waiting alone—deprived of the very audience that might reward the virtue with gratitude or recognition. Jones’s quip gently criticizes social inconsideration (others’ lateness) while also deflating self-righteousness: being punctual may be ethically right, but it is not always socially gratifying. The line endures because it captures a common experience—showing up early, feeling foolish, and realizing that “doing the right thing” can be invisible labor.

1) “The trouble with being punctual is that nobody is there to appreciate it.”
2) “The trouble with being punctual is that there’s nobody there to appreciate it.”
3) “The trouble with being punctual is that no one’s there to appreciate it.”