How Old Are You?

I asked someone a very simple question in email today, “How old are you?”

This was after they had literally wasted months of my time setting up an appointment, cancelling it, rescheduling it, recancelling it, attempting to ask all parties involved (4 of us) when we could reschedule again. We offered more times and dates. They accepted the offers, then rescinded—asking again if we could push the meeting off another week. This meeting was supposed to take place in May. It’s nearly August.

“How old are you?” I asked. They replied to my simple question, “Why?” instead of answering by simply stating a number.

I can only assume they are VERY young as they have a delightful perspective on the abundance of minutes, hours, days, weeks, and years they have to waste. They’ve somehow won a veritable LOTTO of time—millions of hours of time and they are fine with wasting their time and mine.

I see things a little differently. Life is short, and thanks to this tenuous world of terror, tsunamis, and other life-shortening events, I don’t like wasting time.

Okay, it’s very beastly hot here in Boston and I’m feeling a little cranky. Go ahead, tell me how to deal with this person. I can use all good advice you’ve got.