Please, don't waste my time! If you do, don't expect me to hang out with you for very long. And don't expect me to spend time with you in the future.

I confess, I discriminate against certain people. I don¡¯t hate these people; most are quite decent and likeable. Though I do avoid them as much as possible. And when I meet these people, I¡¯m not mean to them. But I do plan my exit as soon as I can (without appearing to be a complete jerk).

No, I¡¯m not a racist, sexist, or ageist. Rather, I¡¯m a ¡®timeist.¡¯ What, you may wonder, is a timeist? Okay, I made the term up, but it has real meaning to me. A timeist is someone who discriminates against others who waste their time. And I really hate it when people waste my time!

As I have moved well into middle age, I hoard my time like some misers hoard their money and animals hoard their food. Time has become truly precious to me and any second not spent with people or activities I care about feels like time stolen from me with no chance of return.

Many might argue that money is our most valuable resource because it enables us to survive. I would suggest otherwise because most of us can almost always make more money. But time is an entirely non-renewable resource; once time passes, it is gone forever. No matter how much we wish, we simply can¡¯t get more time.

Time also doesn¡¯t discriminate. Whether you are rich or poor, the clock is ticking and more time can¡¯t be bought. However, I admit that affluence may improve how that time is spent or how long one¡¯s time on Earth is (think life expectancies and medical care).

I¡¯m sure this relationship I have with time is a result of my being on the backside of my life with fewer days ahead of me than behind. Like most people, when I was young, I thought I was immortal (not to mention invulnerable). So, I wasted my time with people who didn¡¯t have any real value to me and engaged in activities that didn¡¯t do much for my life in the grand scheme of things.

Admittedly, this wasted time was due partly to the fact that, when you¡¯re young, you don¡¯t necessarily know what you value or what will bring benefit to you long term. But early in your life, much like having a lot of money in the bank, it doesn¡¯t seem to matter because you, at that point, have plenty of time to spend.

Yet, once you reach a certain age and look back on your life, you ponder (and perhaps regret) the immense opportunity costs of your past relationships and things you did. But, as we so painfully learn, not only is time nonrenewable, it is also not reversible. Such, as they say, is life.

I realize that being a timeist doesn¡¯t make me the most popular guy in the room. Timeism can cause me real impatience. For example, if I¡¯m in a meeting going nowhere (or at least in a direction that doesn¡¯t interest me), I can abruptly intervene and attempt to get the meeting back on track. Or, if I meet someone who I don¡¯t find interesting or worthy of my time, I can, rather suddenly, end the conversation and move on.