Marilyn Monroe was no fun to work with. She would report to work

The words of Tony Randall, when he spoke of Marilyn Monroe, carry more weight than the complaint of an actor tired of waiting in the dressing room. They echo like the lament of a soldier delayed in the march, who watches time slip by while the one holding the banner lingers in slumber. “She would report to work around five in the evening,” he said, while others had sat in make-up since dawn. These words remind us of the ancient truth: talent alone is not enough; discipline and presence are the true companions of greatness. Without them, even the brightest star dims in the eyes of those who labor beside her.

Yet, let us not be harsh too quickly. For Marilyn Monroe, though adored as a goddess of beauty, bore chains unseen by the crowd. Her lateness was not always arrogance, but the weight of insecurity, of fear, of the endless battle between the public image and the fragile soul within. In this we are reminded that greatness often comes burdened with fragility. The jewel that shines most brightly is also the one most likely to crack. Thus, Tony’s frustration is the voice of the worker, but behind it stands the tragedy of the artist, torn between expectation and reality.

Consider how history repeats itself. In the courts of ancient Rome, the mighty Julius Caesar was famed for his swiftness in war, but Mark Antony, his companion, often delayed, indulging in pleasures that cost him the respect of his legions. Just as Monroe’s lateness strained her colleagues’ patience, Antony’s lack of discipline weakened alliances and hastened his ruin. The lesson is eternal: delay corrodes trust, and when trust is gone, even brilliance cannot hold a kingdom—or a company—together.

But there is another layer: the loneliness of those who wait. Imagine the actors and crew who rose with the sun, who endured the heat of lamps and the stiff patience of long hours, only to see the day’s work swallowed by another’s absence. Their sacrifice reminds us of the virtue of reliability. To be present, to honor the time of others, is a gift greater than beauty or fame. For beauty dazzles for a season, but reliability builds bonds that endure for a lifetime.

Do not think this lesson belongs only to stars of the silver screen or the annals of empire. It is alive in every workshop, in every household, in every friendship. When a friend delays endlessly, when a colleague arrives late with no regard for the hours lost, the heart grows weary. Trust, once strained, rarely returns in full. Thus, the wise learn to guard the time of others as carefully as their own, for time is the only coin that cannot be replaced once spent.

Still, compassion whispers its counter-song. Many who delay do not do so out of malice, but from wounds unseen. Monroe herself, though difficult to work with, has been remembered with tenderness by many who understood her pain. Here lies the balance of wisdom: hold others accountable, yes, but also seek the hidden burdens they carry. For to condemn without compassion is to judge with half-closed eyes.

Therefore, let the teaching of this quote be twofold. First, honor the time of others, for in doing so you honor their dignity and strengthen the cords of trust. Rise early, keep your word, and be steadfast, that those who labor with you may call you reliable. Second, when faced with the delay of others, do not let anger be your only response; seek to understand, and if possible, to help lighten the burden that hinders them. For every Marilyn Monroe who arrives late may be carrying a weight heavier than beauty allows us to see.

The practical path is this: be disciplined in your commitments, be punctual as though time were sacred, and be compassionate when others fail. In this balance, one finds harmony: the strength of the worker and the mercy of the sage. And if you live so, then when others speak of you, it will not be with frustration, but with gratitude, as of one whose presence was both steady and kind. Thus the old wisdom endures: the greatest star is not the one who shines alone, but the one who helps others to shine together.