How Valuable Is Your Time?
When does your time matter more than your patience?
Do silly things ever get to you—things that in the grand scheme of it all don’t matter?
I’m an even-keeled kind of guy. Most people who know me might even say I’m quiet.
A few weeks back, I ordered a burrito bowl from a fine-dining establishment we’ll code name “Hipotlay.”
At Hipotlay, you can get a custom ordered, ready-to-go, delicious burrito, salad, taco, or anything in between—or so I thought.
On my way home from work, I decided I would have a Hipotlay day. As such, I ordered ahead on my phone to ensure my order would be ready even before I arrived. Of course, sometimes that means that the meal is a little less hot than if it just came out of the oven, but it’s worth it to avoid (or try and prevent) calamity.
I arrived on schedule.
As I entered the establishment, it was clear that several people had been waiting next to a queue of take-out bags as another line formed at the walk-up station. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noted a man with a white hat (who walked in just before me) stepping into the walk-up line while I moved to the take-out station.
I first searched for my bag amongst the several that had been laid upon the table. Then, I realized quickly that my order had yet to be completed. But I didn’t overthink it. Although my reservation was set for five minutes before, I knew a delay was possible at this rush hour.
I waited. Minutes passed.
I sat down. I waited more.
I looked at my phone. I waited.
Tick. Tock.
I looked up and just smiled. I’ve found that it’s better to smile than let it get to me in times like these. That works most of the time anyway.
This time was different. I raised my head from my phone and saw the man with the white hat. Not only had he gone the entire way through the line, but he also watched his order be made, had taken the bag and paid the cashier—he, was, leaving.
I looked at my watch. Twenty minutes had passed since I arrived.
I couldn’t believe it. Most of the people who arrived before me at the take-out area were still waiting with me.
A few frustrated Hipotlay customers asked what the issue was. The young lady assured the customers that the staff were working on the orders. It turns out that the computer system had accepted too many orders for them to handle, and they were trying to catch up.
We had entered a burrito-pocalypse.
I continued to wait. I knew it would be any minute. It had to be.
Then two more full lines of people when the entire way through the queue.
I asked myself a simple question—was my $10 burrito bowl worth it?
I didn’t have anywhere specific to be that evening, but now I had dumped the embodied energy of nearly an hour of my time waiting for a meal that, sadly, was nowhere to be found.
I checked once more.
I asked the young lady if the salad would be ready soon.
She didn’t know.
I made an about-face turn and proceeded to walk out the door, across the street, and into the competing Taco establishment. Yes, it’s that competitive in the mean streets of Buffalo between the local Tacorillas and the Hipotlays of the world.
Lesson learned—my time is my own, and it’s better spent enjoying life than watching everyone else around me get their tacos.
I do believe that patience is a virtue. Patience has saved me once or twice from making heated decisions I might regret.
I didn’t regret leaving Hipotlay that day. And the burrito I had instead was delicious.
There is a time to wait, and there is a time to cut your losses. Life is about knowing when to do one over the other.
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