My time is valuable. It is my most prized possession. I respect it, cherish it, treat it well. I never waste it. And I have devised a way to make my living assuring that it is never wasted by others.
You see, I am never more than five or ten seconds late for anything. Additionally, I am rarely five or ten seconds late for anything. I am almost always early, and I bring books with me, so even then I am enriching my soul.
However, this very same punctuality is not shared by the greater populace. Indeed, the American Tardiness has become something of an epidemic. During my fiery youth, this Tardiness would enrage me, the ire boiling up inside me, causing me to waste my precious time cursing the late and devising tactics by which to fool them into displaying effective time management. Oh, those countless hours, frittered away with a task so rife with futility. My heart weeps for those lost hours.
Although a British immigrant, I have fully embraced my new American culture. I knew instinctively, as many Americans do, that I could use this unfortunate situation for my personal benefit. Life handed me expired milk, I would pasteurize it, add certain active cultures, separate the whey, pack the resultant curds into blocks, and let mature until the desired texture of cheese is achieved.
I took my cue from credit card companies. They charge interest on payments made after a specified date. Sometimes they are called finance charges (a purposefully ambiguous term, devised so as not to be noticed by the payer), but a more accurate term would be Late Fees. “Late fees,” I though out loud one fateful day. “I should charge late fees.”
So I did. I began charging late fees whenever my time was wasted. My original going rate was a mere one hundred dollars per hour (it has since risen to four hundred and twenty dollars per hour). If one was late for an appointment, late fee. For the woman writing a check at the supermarket, finance charge. For the children who could not decide which flavor of ice cream cone to order, service charge (to be fair I usually charge the parents). Anytime I feel that my time is wasted, I bill the responsible party for the money equivalent of the minutes I will never get back.
My original idealistic intention was to temporarily charge late fees to the people I interact with on a daily basis. I believed that by charging them late fees they would be conditioned to be punctual. I now know this will never be. A sense of time is a gift some, like me, are cursed with. It is genetic, and can never be learned in a society so laxidasical and overly-tolerant. I had never dreamed this would work to my favor, but it has. Oh, it has.
I have made my living from the Late Fees. The money they generate has kept me in quite an impressive tax bracket. Although I don’t pay taxes. The money generated from the time wasted by the government is staggering. Forget time at the Post Office, I once generated sixty thousand dollars while on jury duty. Doctors and dentists always end up owing me money, and I have never paid for an automobile repair. The charitable contributions I give based solely on Late Fees from banks makes up for much of the evil perpetrated by the usurious industry.
My time is never wasted anymore. It is, at the very least, a viable and voluminous source of income. Perhaps though some of my daily escapades (which may appear in this forum in the coming months) you will gain insight into my life, my career, and the small steps I take towards my goal of a punctual society. Until then, my fiends, I bid you adieu. It is time for me to leave you, so as not waste any more of your precious time.